Thank God for little kids!

There must be something in my face that kids can only see.

Maybe, in their eyes, it’s either I look like a clown or a doll (no, never a doll!). Maybe more of a clown. Or a funny fish with bulging pair of eyes and twistedly concave mouth. Or a ready-to-amuse hairy monkey.

Just this evening, as I boarded a jeepney on my way to a friend’s house, there was a boy, about two, who was having a tantrum that his dad (I assume) turned him over to sit on his mom’s (I also assume) lap while I was slowly inching my way to the only space cleared for me as the passengers edged sideways. It was just across the family (again, assuming).

The boy was still twitching up and down churning muffled cries as I sat down, clutching my travelling bag and knapsack in front of me.

My first thought was that, maybe he’s hungry, or tired and sleepy. Just like his parents when I stole a look at them.

Then the boy sat still, stared at me. I guess he took pity on me as I squeezed to my place, two bags on my lap, and trying hard not to slide from my seat. Good thing, a passenger alit and all my behind got a full cushion.

The little boy had gone quiet, and yes, he continued to look at me. No, he’s not frightened. He was also not ecstatic, not even smiling. Just a curious gaze, I think. Once in a while, he would look at my seatmate but his eyes would return to my face, or was he looking at my nose? My forehead? My eyebrows?

I can sense this from my sight’s periphery, and I would occasionally stare back at the boy, with a half smile. I didn’t know for how long our mutually curious stance went until the boy fluttered his eyes and began to sleep!

And I remembered another little boy too during the Simbang Gabi just a few hours ago that day. He was hyperactively walking back and forth on the pew and on our seat during the Gospel reading. His mom (a former neighbor coz we moved) somehow surrendered to his boy’s activity. During the homily though, the boy sat between me and his mom. And before the sermon was over, the boy was leaning on me, and was already asleep!

Is my presence a sleep inducer? I can assure you, NO. My aura’s a bit frayed this evening.

There was another instance at a wake’s mass a few weeks back, I was sitting and leaning on the stairs when someone tapped my leg. And you might have guessed it. Another young boy, all vibrance amidst the weeping family members. I could only smile at him and gave him a hush-hush look. But the tirade went over and over with him giving me a tap and would seemingly hide himself from me only to scuttle to my place and tap me time and again!

Do I look like someone who’s all to willing for peek-a-boo? Again, NO. Not on that particular time.

One early morning, just almost a month ago (this I am sure since I was waiting for my pending Big Breakfast meal and focused on reading the headlines on the Ampatuans), there was yet another another boy (oh, boy!). He was with his family sitting three tables away from mine. Transfixed as I was scanning the newspaper, I could still here his giggles. As I looked up, I was happily surprised to find that he was giggling while looking at me! Well, his chin was on his mom’s shoulders (I am assuming again that she is his mom). His dancing eyes were on me! The two tables were empty so I know that he was not making fun of anybody but me. The mom got curious at his son’s giggles and even looked from behind her and saw me as the only person there. She smiled at me too. Even as they stood up to leave, the boy was still giving me nice smiles and giggles. That made the mom smiled and even gave me a nice goodbye wave.

Was I in a playful mood that time? Goodness, NO. That morning was a pure letdown.

I had never laid eyes on these tots. I was simply and justifiably someone unfamiliar in their eyes. And yet, they were willing to share with me their untainted sense of contentment and happiness.

However I felt as nothing, empty and non-important, my varied experiences during these instances, as I look back on them, gives me an undeniable sense of joyous wonder and unadulterated pride. Because in those wee moments, with these little guileless souls, I knew that the youngsters were not really seeing nor feeling me.

Those tots, bewildered maybe or simply just “believing” were actually being comforted and playing with my “companions” who, during that time, were just as busy with them as on me. Because as I look back, those were the times when I was at my lowest. Only now do I fully accept and understand that in times when my spirit flashes an SOS to HIM, HE sends extra guides to soothe me. And those tots whom I encountered, seemingly comforted by my presence were actually living proofs that I were in the company of angels, giving my guardian angel the ayuda he needs!

Those tots have to make me realize it — because I was so blinded by my hurts to believe that they really do exist.

“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.”

I woke up a bit late today… I mean, really late. It was past noon. But forgivable, I guess, since I slept around 4am already. And now, here I am again, nudging the cool Christmas air and blinking with the stars again.

The first thought that I had was Christmas, and then I got into a reminisce-mode during my not-so-forgotten days when we (my two elder sisters and younger brother) would hang Christmas stockings and I wondered if there are still children who do this.

And then I remembered the much reprinted editorial written by Francis Pharcellus Church of The New York Sun which has withstood a century, it being published in September 1897.

The editorial was a response to 8-year old Virginia O’Hanlon’s short letter asking, “Is There a Santa Claus?”. It was a touching article, the kind that will never lose spirit and if it withstood a century, it will surely be touching hearts in eras to come.

Let there be light!

Popsy had to remind me that i was in darkness, literally.

since i am without the ever dependable laptop that i got used to having for almost three years, i am back to the pen-and-paper scribbling. i started drafting a friend’s wedding program flow at noon right after getting the confirmation that i’ll be doing it.

nonetheless, it seemed that my brain was still wired to a computer network and in frantic freeze! i couldn’t get it to work! there i was, absentmindedly doodling on my notebook anything that came to mind — a poem, a prayer, and about to start on drawing pretty little hearts (hahaha! yes, hearts!)…

that’s when Popsy came into the room and turned on the lights. he said, “ba’t hindi ka nag-iilaw?”

after giving dad my sweetest smile and thanks, i couldn’t stop laughing at myself. how come i didn’t even notice that it was already dusk?

i really was warped, and saved by the light… and i believe it’s a good thing.

uneasiness

i woke up with a feeling of uneasiness at the pit of my stomach. it didn’t fade as quickly as i thought it would. i whispered a prayer of comfort during the mass, but the feeling lingered on.

slept with hanging thoughts while on the bus. waking up was the same, there’s the sense of foreboding again.

was it hunger pangs? but then, even after breakfast at mcdo didn’t do much. spent an hour just browsing through the newspaper, each sentence becoming more blurred than the next.

tried to clear my mind and killed time in an internet shop. the grey clouds stayed over my head. got a lot of “misclicking” even in reading my emails and facebook.

what is it this time? did i forget something? is there anything that i should have done but failed to do? did someone need to reach me but can’t?

i spent another hour just walking while waiting for a meetup. and then, my mind and body wearied, i rested. bought a cup of coffee. calmed myself and asked for guidance and enlightenment. got my Guide and the Words just stared at me: it says, “He will let you laugh and shout again…”

The Answer that I Didn’t Exactly Pray For

Imagine a little girl who, upon opening her Christmas present, danced with delight and sang in all merriment because it was, what she has been asking Santa Claus; after all, she had really exerted all efforts to be a truly good kid all year round. And good kids deserve a wish come true come Christmastime.

Imagine that little girl, and imagine me as her. Yes, I was prancing and leaping in happiness one Monday morning that I went out personally to thank the sisters of Mary Immaculate Community for their prayers. I sought for Ate Babie, oops, Sister Lorenza, or Sister Babie, who was formerly our choir instructress but is now serving full time at the Lord’s vineyard.

She was beaming with happiness, too, when she saw me. It has been years since I visited their humble abode and more years even when we last talked. But I know that I had been in their prayers, especially during the past weeks — where my heart, faith and courage were tested in all angles. I know because a dear friend was too concerned and listed my name on their special intentions when I decided to go secluded and solitary instead of reaching out.  (Thank you, bless your heart!)

The sisters were having their lunch that time but Sister Babie didn’t join them but led me inside their conference hall.

I told her that I just dropped by to say thank you for the prayers they were offering in my behalf. I shared that I feel it was already an answered prayer and then I ranted on the news that I got — of a leap of faith.

Sister Babie, all too calmly serenely smiling had just one question after my “good” news: she asked me how I feel about it.

And there, my ecstatic facade broke down. For months of trying my hardest to keep everything to myself,  here is one soul whom I have not seen nor spoke with for decades but is radiating with the sincerity of asking me how I really feel behind my widest smile ever. (Gee, just reliving that experience makes me want to shed out tears all over again! Brssst).

In between sobs, I admitted that I felt all the more the outcast that I was depicted to be. It’s as if I was announced as a leper and everyone who heard believed. And no one was brave enough to approach me to see my medical certificate for fear that I might infect them. Or that I walk among the crowd and even in the darkest night feel that everyone is staring and hurling accusations at me. Everywhere I go, at work or to home, someone has a sharp sense against me. I have never fully understand why I was “chosen” to be in the receiving end of all these trials.

I even humored Mumsy (not just a mom but a friend and a confidante) one time when I was taking all things with a smile, that I inherited “forbearance” from her. Why didn’t I get Popsy’s eloquence?

But as I reflected on the turn of events, I told myself that I should have an open mind and an open heart. People change. All’s well that ends well. That’s why the news is one good news!

Sister Babie though still had a lot of heart-changing (and mind-changing) ideas. A person won’t transform in an instant, unless by a miracle (which can be a possibility). And my grief won’t fade so easily (which is a fact). And my process of suffering, forgiveness and acceptance is a rocky and steep road to discernment.

My little visit of gratitude to the Mary Immaculate Community of Sisters became a long stay when I was invited to join the 5-day (November 23 – 27) Enclosure Retreat which I readily said “Yes!” to.

A cliche maybe, but no words can fully describe my experience then. It was as if I was alone in the retreat house and all the talks and reflections were specially written and done for me. A realization also came to me that as my faith heals my hurts, greater ones and bigger stones would come to strengthen me.

And truly, when I came home from the Enclosure Retreat,  during Mumsy’s birthday celebration, I was treated again to another test of heart, faith and courage.

But this time, I was all smiles. Nothing is greater that sharing in the passion of the Saviour.

So I say again, even when limping and bruising, “Thanks, Bro!”.