Not Letting It Slip Away

Lately I've been reading books of our brothers and sisters in Christ who have suffered for Him yet still have emerged victorious, thus their testimonies. I just couldn't picture myself being in their shoes.

What if I was the one getting chased at by authorities? Or what if it was my life being threatened by the families of those I have shared the gospel to? Will I be able to endure as much as these Christians did? Will I go on the race set out for me? Or will I deny my faith like some did?

Living in Iligan City is a blessing enough for me. Sharing the gospel and praying in public is not even prohibited unlike other countries, thus giving me so much opportunity to proclaim Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. What are we doing with this freedom to share? Many Christians do not even bother to share the gospel just because they believe it might be not really necessary in a country such as the Philippines. However, despite our country's claims on Christianity, there are still millions who do not know who Jesus really is, aside from what they hear on Christmas carols or what they see on posters (that portrait of that sad-looking man many call Jesus). Isn't it sad? Doesn't it pain us to look at these people around us who didn't even think they might not be going to heaven? God is giving us, the ones who know, this task to tell the world!

Tell the world that Jesus lives!
Tell the world that
Tell the world that
Tell the world that He died for them
Tell the world that He lives again


I, myself, have been singing this song for years now, and thinking about it, it's such a shame for those first years I sang this almost every Sunday (and even everyday) and didn't even actually do it. Like other "Christians", I was convinced there were other people who could do the evangelism - the missionaries. I was too naive. Too confident of my not being part of it. "Nuh-uh, not me," my younger self said, "Missions and Aine do not seem to go well together. I'm not good in talking about these things! I think I'll just stick to singing during services. I could do that." And there goes my puberty and teenage years into waste.



That one campus raid with Daiza and Aimae was one of the moments that truly pained me and opened my eyes as to what the conditions of most nominal Christians in the Philippines are in. They were ten girls sitting around one long table and the three of us took turns explaining the gospel. My heart had not really felt that heaviness until Daiza asked them if all human beings are children of God. Guess what. Everyone answered YES. I was expecting that, though.

"Why?" Daiza asked.

"Because," they replied in chorus, "we were all created by Him, and that means He is our Father and we are His children!" They were so happy and sure with their answers that you could just not imagine their faces when Daiza responded with a compassionate smile before saying, "What if I tell you that not all are called His children?"

I looked at their expressions. They were crushed. They didn't know what to do. All their life they were taught that no matter what they do, and no matter how much they deny Him, they were God's children and would always be His children. Most didn't even understand why Jesus died on the cross for us when they thought they could get to heaven by not doing "big" sins and by regularly attending the church.


What had I been doing? What had we been doing all this time, interacting with the people who needed Jesus? What have we done with this great opportunity the Lord has granted us?


I remember I refused to share Jesus to my high school best friends before because I feared they would hate me for implying the faith they had been clinging to was not the truth. Once, during lunch, I tried, but one of my best friends shushed me and told us not to continue with the conversation unless we would want to proceed to an argument. I did remain silent and convinced myself that at least I tried. Another time, a guy classmate in high school proudly said he'd rather end up in hell because he believes more people would be there. "It would be more fun! Like a party!" he exclaimed to another guy bud. I quickly countered him and told him what it really was like in hell, and how much better it was in heaven. As I gave him details, he, being one of the boys who teased me greatly, started arguing with me and telling me things that hurt me so much, I ended up crying (I was just eleven, I think). Afterwards he just mimicked me and I pretty much avoided the topic with him for the rest of the year. (We're still good friends though, and I hope I'd have the chance to talk with him again)

I greatly regretted the moments I allowed to slip because of cowardice. I let possible embarrassment and insults be the filter that didn't allow this truth inside me to flow towards the people that had surrounded me.


My mom loves to tell me the story of when I wouldn't stop sharing the gospel to my childhood friend, Macky when I was only four. We had just been told of the gospel by our ABC's supervisor and wouldn't you know it, I was too excited to share it to someone else that I repeated it a lot of times to Macky when our parents met for the usual get-together! Until now, I couldn't help but laugh when I remember my mom telling me Macky got so tired of it that he told me to stop talking. LOL.


As we grow up, the filters increase, giving us more reasons to not share the truth. These filters convince us at the same time that if we are not able to do it, God might probably find another instrument. What had happened to the child of God with that childlike faith? What had happened to our commitment? I know there are a lot of us that struggle with this, because I, myself, find it hard to share, especially to my relatives and closest friends who still have not known the truth. But it is a challenge that the Lord is giving us, isn't it? What is there to be afraid of? Embarrassment? Possible arguments? Persecution? Insults?

Brothers and Sisters, let us remember the other Christians all around the world going through much harder times than we are in. They had been tortured by authorities and even by their own families! They were thrown to dirty prison cells. They were flogged. They were beaten to paralysis, and so much more that the difficulties we might be facing today for the Lord might not even be a hundredth of what they are going through. Could you imagine how blessed we are?


"Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit." Matthew 28:19

"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile." Romans 1:16


Brother Yun (The Heavenly Man) said, "We're not called to live by human reason. All that matters is obedience to God's Word and His leading in our lives. If God says go, we'll go. If He says stay, we'll stay. When we are in His will, we are in the safest place in the world."

Never worry, brethren, because no matter what happens, the Lord would certainly be with you. :)

Let us claim victory over the unreached through Christ Jesus our Lord. Spread His love. <3


May the Lord bless you.
xx, Aine

P.S.
Brothers and Sisters that have just read this blog entry, I urge you to pray for our fellow Christians suffering for the Lord. Some of them might be in prison, and some might be hiding for their lives. Please pray for the Lord's protection to be upon them. Another thing, please pray for provisions for these brothers and sisters. A number of them could barely get by, financially, and some might not even have a roof over their heads or a loaf of bread to satisfy their starving stomachs. Most importantly, please pray for the Holy Spirit to continue working in them, granting comfort, encouragement, joy, strength, and peace, wherever they are led to. :)

For the Joy that comes from HIM

HALLELUJAH! I just want to praise the Lord. The joy He has granted me is overflowing, I could not contain it. This privilege that He has given me is simply wonderful, I could not even find the right words to express how honored I am to be in the picture He himself had painted. It makes me smile whenever I recall I had been grinning broadly and singing hymns and Sunday School songs since yesterday morning. I was so glad. No, wait. I was exhilarated. I was bursting in joy.

“The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise Him.” Psalm 28:7

Everytime I think about how messed up I had become, and everytime I recall the Lord's revealed plans for me, I literally shiver. My knees weaken and I'm not exactly sure if I'd be crying for joy or for the uncertainty.

“Lord,” I had asked quite a few times before, “are you sure you're choosing me?”

I had been convinced that I had always fallen short of the 'standards' I thought there was. I was conditioned to view the chosen ones to be righteous, strong, capable, and devout Christians who probably fasted on a regular basis and never dared to miss a single quiet time that would most probably last for hours every time. What was I? I was no where near people like that, I thought. So, what is in me that God would pick me out to be a part of this team He had planned to build? Nothing, I thought.

I would love to be part of this battle. I seriously do. But the question the enemy always injects in my mind is this: “I'm not good enough to be in this. I had been a lukewarm Christian most of my life. Hello? I don't think I have what it takes. I couldn't possibly be called, could I?” So instead of finding out, I slowly dismiss the thought, in the embarrassment of even considering myself 'called', or so they say.

But it was gnawing me. It was eating my insides, like I knew I just couldn't sit and watch and be a lukewarm and passive 'Christian' all over again. I had forgotten Moses: the young man who took another man's life, considered himself unclean, and couldn't even manage to speak to a crowd. He was given this great task that the Lord wanted him to obey. And I had forgotten Isaiah: the man with unclean lips. He was purified by the Lord. And because he had been more than willing, he was sent by the Lord to the nations with this huge responsibility that he never thought he'd be given. How about Paul? The other apostles? David? Gideon? What kind of people had they been prior to God's calling?

How different am I from them? They were as incapable as I am at first. They were as ungodly as I am at first. And the enemy was attacking me using this past that I have. Discouraging me. Telling me I was still not worthy. That I was not good enough. Making me doubt what the Lord could do through me. Somehow, I was limiting the Lord.

It almost got me, honestly. I almost convinced myself maybe I was not part of this plan because I was not good enough. But He shook me. He shook me hard. The Holy Spirit told me to wake up from this deep slumber I had been in. And I did. And I wouldn't want to go back to sleep again.

This is not about me. This is not about what I can do. This is not about how good I am, or how much I could contribute with my capabilities. None of 'me' is going to matter in this warfare. It's all about Him. It's all about who He is. It's all about how He is going to use me. He is in control, and none of what I am able or not able to do is going to matter. Because this is His story. And He could do whatever He wants to do with me. He could place me wherever He wants to place me. Nothing is too hard for Him because He is all-powerful! None of the enemy's attacks is going to tear me apart because I am covered with the blood of Jesus Christ. It does not matter anymore for by just being in the Lord's side, we are already declared victors. And nothing that the enemy will be doing is going to intimidate me again. My eyes are set on Jesus Christ, my Lord. That is more than enough to keep me from falling. Praise the Lord.

“Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:37-39

“Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?' And I said, 'Here am I. Send me!'” Isaiah 6:8


**The prayer for today that had appeared below my blog page:

Lord, I have but a bread and a fish, I do not have much but I offer all I have to you. I know that with your blessings, my efforts will yield a thousandfold more than I could ever bring forth alone.

Escalation? Oh please, no.

Short update. I'm out of words.

What if.

I know. These two words are dangerous. They set my heart in a fast pace, I can't even keep up with it. Oh, why. :| I haven't even thought about it. I was too reckless and thought young, like I was trapped in a fairytale - a Jasmine aboard the flying carpet.


To you who I'd probably hurt accidentally in the future, though I do not want to:

Sorry. Just sorry. I didn't know. I had been too careless when I was with you. I thought you were the closest non-sibling I could ever get. When we talked, I was always in my foulest mood, and I often took it out on you and you wouldn't care. You saw me at my worst state because, well, you were an almost-sibling. I thought. I thought you thought that too. I thought it was normal - being like that. I didn't know something else had sprung up. Too late, I guess. Or maybe not. Oh. Just. Just sorry I couldn't. Sorry if it's empty. Sorry if I can't.


Friends will always be friends, though. Smile. Tabangan pa taka bi. Haha. Bitaw, tinuod, tabangan taka hantod sa makaya. Fighting!

xx,
Aine, your manghud and friend

Hazy Days

Sembreak didn't mean I had all the time in the world to update my blog. Ironically, vacation days prove to be the days I spend the least hours in front of my computer, being in a family that just can't stay in one place. And because I had been out for ages, and I had just been enrolled for the second semester (hurray), I was compelled to do a random entry to keep this blog from being dormant.

(Clears throat)

"Where had you been?"

After mustering all the courage she needed, Alyssa walked up to Joash who was busy playing with his new guitar. Joash blinked, looked up at her, and resumed to strumming a couple of strings. He had seemed distant for days, but Alyssa just couldn't be so sure. She wanted to know what it was that seemed to be pulling everything apart. She wanted to know why, all of a sudden, it vanished. For what seemed like forever, she stared at Joash who was trying his best to avoid her eyes. If there was guilt in his eyes, Alyssa couldn't see it clearly. It was the longest minute they had ever gone through and all they heard was the tuning of Joash's guitar strings and their own heartbeat. Patience, Alyssa noticed, suddenly seemed to be the most difficult word.

"Joash," she continued, "You've been missing. Didn't you say you wouldn't go?"

He stood up and gently placed the guitar in the case. Running his fingers through his hair, he hesitated but answered anyway. "I was just...here. You've been seeing me everyday, what are you talking about?"

It was Alyssa's turn to pause and sigh. "That was not what I meant. I know you know that."

Joash offered her a sad smile before walking away. She wanted to pull him back and shake him until he'd explain, but she had no courage left. All she had left was just an empty well, she couldn't even see the bottom. It was useless to run after him. Now, she was left standing at the corner like nothing has ever happened. She wanted to kick herself for even talking to him.

"Wow. I never knew promises were short-lived and conditional," Alyssa mumbled before smiling bitterly at herself.









Haha. I have no idea why I decided to write this thing. Maybe I just missed writing, or I just wanted to say something left unsaid but eventually decided to mask it anyway in the vaguest way as possible. Ang gulo lang. LOL. I think I'm too hyped up today. Am I? I thought I abstained from caffeine. Oh well, I'm officially enrolled, and there's no better reason than that. When there is victory through Christ, there is joy. Praise the Lord. :) Hazy days shall pass.

Changing the View

"In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of His robe filled the temple." Isaiah 6:1


It may be earthly glory that keeps us away. It may be material things that cloud our eyes. Thus, the failure to marvel on the One that truly mattered - the One behind everything beautiful in life.

Isaiah, on this passage, was mourning for the loss of one of Judah's great kings. He thought Uzziah was a hero. But just as he thought they lost someone great, his eyes were opened. And something much more incredible happened. He saw the glory of God. In the midst of Isaiah's sorrow his eyes were lifted up and he saw the Lord. It might had taken the death of someone great to be able to look at someone even greater.



How about us? What are the things that are filling our vision?

Yesterday was a day of loss but greater gain. Yes. The one thing that I had taken pride on for quite some time had been taken away from me. Of course that thing was not out of my capabilities. I knew. It was just a blessing. Somehow, though, I let it get through my head. It's what they say: The bigger they are, the harder they fall. I sensed it coming. Now that I'm back to zero, and everything is practically wiped out, it became much clearer. It had to be knocked out so that I could see the Lord better. That it is He Who matters. And it is He Who I should show the nations, not the earthly glory that fades like mist.


The Lord told me that I had to change the view, just like how we put wipers on our cars' windshields for a better view of the road we're on.


Today we may be experiencing trouble and sorrow in our life. We may have a great heartache. But in the midst of it right now God wants us to lift our eyes and see Him.


There was once a man whose eyes had been blinded for a long time. He underwent surgery in an attempt to restore his eyesight. When the bandages were being removed, it was evident that he would be able to see. He said, "Have the surgeon right here by my side. The first one I want to see is the one who has restored sight to my eyes."


How about us? What is filling our vision today? The things of the earth? Or the Lord? May a new vision of God Himself be ours today.


XOXO

A Sunset Change

Things change when the things that were once hidden from you are now in large, bold letters before your eyes. Things change when you see the difference that was never shown before. Things change when the sun sets but you know it's just starting.

Okay. I'm blabbering.

Yesterday, I had my hair cut short. I thought I needed a hair revamp. Little did I know, there were little irrelevant things in my life that felt like they were part of my hair - they wanted change too. I didn't want to, but I knew I had to. The Lord knows how troubled I was (for a while, anyway), but what could I say, He, Who is in control of everything, is setting things in their rightful places, just as He had promised. A tiny splinter, at last, is being pulled out from my chest.

Sometimes, I think sunsets could be deceiving moments. It might be beautiful for a few minutes, but you just know it would be getting darker. Sometimes, even, the stars refuse to shine, and you'd begin to feel cold and alone. Worse is when insomnia kicks in and you become restless and anxious. Dawn, though, would be breaking soon and everything would be crystal clear as soon the sun rises again. I just know. Because it just would be. I am holding on to His promises. Sunrises are just as beautiful as sunsets, they say. The only difference is that sunrises have a brighter promise. The problem we, humans, usually have, though, is that most of the time, we fail to wake up to see it. (Oh, the metaphor is just brilliant, says moi.)



P.S. It's weird how my post title sounds a lot like a beauty vlog like Michelle Phan's. Or maybe it's just me and my random thoughts working. ._______. Hey, what a coinky-dinky! I spotted this short prayer at the bottom right corner of my page just after I published this entry, and I knew I just had to include it here. Thanks, Lord. :)

"Renew my spirit when the morning breaks and let me look forward to a day of blessing and of peace."

The Things I've Missed

Because of recent happenings (what else is new?), I have come up with a new short. Yes, after a century, I have written again. I have no ideas left for this baby's title, so I ended up playing with this: The Things I've Missed. I know, it does sound cheesy, but I'm tired and I have a long exam tomorrow that I have to get ready for, so this is sort of rushed. I've jammed the writing of this piece in between making my final requirements. Not too laid-back, huh?

Anyway, here it is. Enjoy.

It was barely sundown when I reached the park. There were only a few people strolling around, mostly couples. Exams were finally over so I decided to take a break and spend some time alone, away from the things I used to know. Crissa told me it works. So I had to try. Bored, I took out my pen and diary and began to doodle symbols I have invented myself. I smiled at the silliness of the shapes on the paper. It was as if I had gone back to kindergarten without knowing anything. I felt the wind pick up and I absentmindedly watched the fallen leaves in front of me sail away into the other side of the park. Some things are just too weak to be blown away by the wind.

“How much longer until this ends?” I mumbled to myself, feeling my chest tighten. Involuntarily, I reached up to my cheeks and wiped the tears that had stubbornly trickled down my face. “Lord, what's next?”

Tired of waiting for nothing and of swatting the starving mosquitos away, I got up from the bench and decided to head somewhere else to grab something to eat. In my head was a battle between cheeseburger and barbeque. It was already six when I checked my watch so I thought it wouldn't matter if I had a heavy snack by now. Mama and Kuya Gab wouldn't be back until eight. I don't think I could manage to cook a full meal for myself yet so I told myself I'd play safe tonight. I proceeded to Nanay Seliang's stall and ordered several sticks of isaw and gizzard and four wraps of puso, rice balls in woven coconut leaves.

“Alone?” Nanay Seliang asked as she fanned the already glowing coal. I watched her brush a little oil on the isaw before I bobbed my head up and down into a nod. Cautiously, she put the sticks on the grill.

“Hoy, Kainah,” somebody called out behind me. I wheeled around and saw him, my best friend and cousin, in his usual sweaty jersey. Somehow, it was obvious he just got home from a basketball game with his guy friends. I used to hang out with them too, but ever since we stepped in college, things got different. Eventually it was just him that I had continued to hang out with.

“Uy,” he laughed, drawing near to me before he reached over for a stick of gizzard that had just been grilled. “Thanks!”

Nanay Seliang cackled her usual hearty laugh and playfully smacked him on the arm, reminding him to greet his mother for her. Mouth too full to answer, he nodded his head vigorously like he had seizures. I bawled with laughter.

Offering him a silly grin, I ruffled his thick black hair. When I drew back my hand, I faked a disgusted look and mouthed a “yuck” as I showed him the sweat on my palm.

“Luis, you have to get home. You stink!”

But being the usual airhead that he already is, Luis just lifted his arm and pressed my head to sniff his pits. I do not remember how much I had wanted to throw up right then and there. I was not kidding, he smelled of manly sweat, which he says is a good thing. Rolling my eyes, I told him, “Yeah. It's a good thing if you intended to keep girls a good ten feet away from you.”

He snorted with laughter.

“Alright, Kai,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I'm taking a shower. I'll just be real quick.”

“What for?”

He shrugged. “Tita said they wouldn't be back until ten. Problems. She says I need to keep an eye on you.”

“So you're baby-sitting me?”

Luis took a swig from his Gatorade bottle.

“If that's what you'd like to call it. Your mom just wants to make sure you wouldn't be wandering off with Mr. Suave over there,” he chuckled, elbowing me. He was looking at Bong prompted on his new tricycle, picking his nose.

“You are unbelievable!” I scoffed, running towards our door.

“That's why I'm your best friend!” he hollered back, spinning his basketball on one finger. “Don't forget to prepare some chips!”

I shook my head when I made a dash towards my room to change into my favorite shirt and shorts. After staring at my face at the mirror for a good five minutes, trying my best not to let the tears fall down again, I jumped in front of my closet and pulled out the tangerine over-sized shirt that was once Luis'. It had a faded Power Rangers print on front. Although I never was a fan of Power Rangers, it was one of my favorite clothing. When I wanted to tease Luis, I'd use this shirt against him. He doesn't like them anymore. “It's childish,” he always argued. But because I wanted to be a mean cousin sometimes, I tell his friends about it. It always works.

I didn't know I was already poking a large hole at the hem of the shirt when Luis barged in the living room.

“Hoy,” he called out, pointing at the untouched food on the table. I smacked my forehead. I forgot about my barbeque. Luis strode to the dining table and grabbed the package before he plopped hiself back on the couch in front of our TV.

“I believe that would be my dinner,” I whispered dramatically to him, as I placed one hand on my hip. He turned to me.

“Our dinner,” he retorted. “You have to be hospitable to your baby-sitter.”

I was not in the mood to argue right now. My head still throbbed and my chest was still aching, so I sunk to the carpet and spooned my face with my palms. I felt like throwing up. I wish I were back at the park. I could have endured the mosquito bites. At least it was more peaceful there.

“Kai?” I heard Luis call out to me. “Kainah?”

I refused to budge. I just listened to the rhythm of my own breathing. It kept me from minding the pain. A few seconds after, I heard Luis take the space beside me. He cautiously placed the bag of barbeque next to my feet. When I still stayed as still as a statue, he placed a large cup beside the barbeque. My face lit up.

“I bought that Halo-halo just for you,” he winked. Then out of nowhere, another spoon appeared and he burst out laughing. “Of course you have to share with me.”

I giggled and let him fish the halo-halo for his favorite leche flan. My eyes darted around the living room and noticed that the TV was not even turned on yet. I decided to keep it that way for now. I brought my attention back to Luis who was now half-way through the halo-halo. That's guys for you.

“Luis?'

His eyes momentarily looked up to me, but quickly went back to focusing on his halo-halo. I snickered and continued staring at him wolf down on the remaining halo-halo.

“Can I tell you something?” I finally breathed out. Completely satisfied with his cup, not even remembering he was supposed to give some to me, Luis sat up straight and turned towards my direction. My face must've been a mess because he squinted his eyes before he made a childish frown.

“What's wrong?” he asked, taking me by the arm. Carefully, like assisting a dying grandma, he led me to the porch. He insisted it was better to have serious talks when the stars were shining brightly and the breeze could whip your hair like you were in a soap opera. I laughed silently.

“You could tell me all about it,” Luis started, with his eyes searching the sky for nothing in particular. “Did somebody hurt you? Or are you mad at somebody?” My lips quivered. How much should I say? Or should I say anything at all?

I shook my head. “I...I'm not angry,” I replied. For what seemed like a decade, I searched my head for the right word. “Maybe I'm just...sad.” I looked up to him and he returned the gaze as if he were expecting me to say some more. Nervously I fumbled with my fingers and looked at my worn out ballet flats.

“Kainah...”

“Luis, there's a void inside,” I began, sucking up the tears that were about to drown me. “All the while I thought they were real. The smiles, the talks, the time spent. They're just illusions, aren't they?”

Luis' eyes widened as if he already knew. And like a father to his child, he carefully took my hands into his rough ones and warmed them with his steady blowing. I never saw Luis this soft before, I didn't know if I was about to laugh or cry.

“Kainah...”

“Luis, from one to ten, rate how good of a friend I am.”

He let go of my hands and pinched both sides of my cheeks like I was just a rag doll he found on the street. Sometimes my cousin could be the most brutal friend you could ever have.

“Ten and a half.”

I looked away. He drew a deep breath.

“Kainah, do not listen to them. Never let their words eat you up. They don't even know you that well. And I know you know God doesn't want you to dwell in this foolishness.”

I couldn't help it. I tried to look at the house across our street, at the sky, at the old Talisay tree that had been on its spot even before there were houses in the place. I tried staring at the lamp posts at the street and at Whitey, our neighbor's dog, chasing a large rat that ran towards the creek, but the tears still wanted to show themselves. So I let them. They are the most stubborn things I have ever known.

“Here,” Luis took off his jacket and offered the sleeve of the yellow hoodie. I gingerly took it. He wouldn't mind so I placed it over my nose and made the most terrible nose blow that could have awakened the whole neighborhood, Papa would be so proud.

“And you say I'm gross,” Luis laughed while wiping the tears from my red cheeks. “Sometimes I do not know if you really are a girl.”

Without thinking, I grabbed Luis and crushed him in a bear hug. “You're the best, Luis.”

He just laughed and ruffled my already messy hair. “I know I am,” he mumbled. “But that doesn't mean I'm going to wash that jacket.”

Grinning at him, I pinched his cheeks, which I know he absolutely hates as much as I do. “Thanks. I'm so blessed God gave me a cousin that could double up as my best bud.”

As if on cue, a comforting breeze came and whipped my hair back. Luis was right. It did feel like we were in a soap opera. I looked over at him who was also enjoying the cold sweep of wind and we both exchanged a meaningful smile before we remembered the bag of cold barbeque lying on our living room carpet. Miming, the stray cat that we had adopted a few weeks ago, was very happy that night, while we had resorted to starve ourselves with a small can of corned tuna we had scavenged from the kitchen cupboard. Luis complained that I should have ordered takeout instead but I just shook my head and told him there are things in life that we should just bear with.

For a True Friend

I admit, I do not make covers of songs, but this time, I thought I had to. So here's for Tjin, to whom my first "published" cover is dedicated to. I love you, Tjin. :x

Click HERE, please. Haha. I do not want thumbnails of videos on my page, so hope you understand. =3

Sandwiched

I'm in the middle of editing a short film and a promotional video due tomorrow but here I am tonight, updating my poor blog which probably doesn't have more than a few readers. I know. I'm sick; I need professional help.

Below, written, is a part of my brain. I do not know how else to say it so I eventually resorted to this.

Leah swept her hair behind her ears and did not notice her brooding face taking over. Slowly she lifted her fingers to her head and felt her temples starting to throb. So far, she was having a bad day. Flipping a torn photograph on her hand, she stared at the almost faded face that had apparently knocked her socks off last year. Until now, she has no idea what happened. She's still in the phase she was in since last year.

"Problem?" Marie piped in as she strode towards the swing next to Leah's.

Leah listened for the usual tune Marie always whistled whenever they meet. She only heard the monotonous drill from a road construction a block away. Saturday had always been a good day for the both of them, but this time, it felt different. The air around them seemed heavy and still; it almost suffocated them. Wanting to break the silence, Marie smacked her gum and waited for Leah to speak. All they heard was the squeaking of the swings' hinges. Slowly, they rocked themselves back and forth and just stared ahead, although there was nothing else left to see aside from a few ancient-looking fountains and benches. Across them was the wooden bench the two of them had carved their names on when they were little. It felt like it had just been yesterday.

Leah drew a deep breath and dug her heel on the ground below her.

"Em, do looks really matter?"

Marie nearly choked on her gum that she had to spit it out. Glancing sideways at Leah, she giggled, before popping another stick of gum into her mouth. She sucked the gum and waited for the strawberry flavor to absorb itself all over her mouth. She always said it calms her nerves.

"Of course not, silly!" she laughed, giving her friend a playful smack on the arm. She wanted to make her friend laugh again, but Leah seemed to insist on her blank expression, while absentmindedly twirling her already curled locks that had tumbled down her shoulders.

"Hey," Marie mumbled. Leah curved her lips upward into a little smile. She knew Marie wouldn't stop badgering her until she said something.

"What would you do, Em, if your heart becomes blind to appearance?"

Marie stopped swinging and placed her palms on her lap. She was thinking. It wasn't usual for Leah to talk about serious matters. Times like this gave her thrills.

"That would be a good thing, wouldn't it?" she finally replied, pausing tentatively before nodding, as if agreeing to her own answer. "Nobody would care."

Leah dug some more of the soil beneath her sneakers.

"Wrong. The society does. Your family might. And you end up having a hard time."

"What do you mean?"

"You know. It's like the government telling you we're a free nation, but its norms and traditions still keep us bounded. It's pointless, isn't it?"

That was initial deflation. She realized, she needed to do more. She wanted to tell Marie the whole story, so she led her back home, to her small room, with that faded photograph clutched on her hand. And all she prayed for at that moment, was for Marie to understand.

Gaano Ba Kalalim ang Buntong Hininga?

A somewhat brief post because I care about your eyes. Prescription glasses are so expensive nowadays. :D

The most truthful things in life are the ones left unsaid. With occurrences like this, listening takes a backseat, you learn to watch, reflect, then understand.



There are more than a couple of times when I realize I have to take a moment to detach myself for a while from the overwhelming things life hurls at me and just heave a sigh. I like my entry title. As much as I find myself awkward speaking or writing in Tagalog, I have to admit that there are certain things that could only be emphasized and brought to life when said in a certain language. For this post, I have especially chosen Tagalog (Okay, fine,"Filipino" for Pinoy language enthusiasts) simply because it sounded much heavier than when written in plain English. Speaking of the heaviness of words, I find sighs much heavier than any string of words combined. Sighs, to simply put it, are manifestations of the thoughts in the deepest realm for your thinking that you just can't manage to spit out. And the deeper your sighs get, the more jammed your thoughts seem to be, and the more words you seem to be holding back.



Maybe a few people noticed that I sigh quite a lot recently. I sigh when I'm tired, when I'm amazed, when I'm disappointed, when I'm satisfied, when I'm relieved, when I'm nervous, when I'm excited, or when I'm just overwhelmed with happiness. Even if I had never heard anybody say this before, I believe the sigh is a cousin of paintings - it speaks a thousand words. Thinking about it, I wonder why there aren't a lot of people who take a second look at sighs. People seem to regard them as annoying and thought-provoking. They're beautiful, really. In fact, I saw this wedding video recently where the groom, who couldn't contain his extreme joy, heaved sighs a million times before the wedding started, as if he were deflating himself of this unexplainable feeling he'd probably experience only once in his lifetime, otherwise he'd burst. And I don't know if it's his breath that he let go through his sighs, but it was actually contagious, I was practically grinning from ear to ear throughout the video.


Sighs are only a few of my secret languages. Although I do not mean to, my sighs tend to mean a lot more than what I am actually saying. They reflect the condition of my heart at the moment. They are extensions to human communication, as barbaric the people say sighs sound. They are the manifestations of the things I have decided to be kept to myself and the Lord.



I promised to keep this entry short, so I'm going to stop here. I was originally planning to write something deep in Filipino in this post but I sounded way too corny so I hesitated and ended up deleting the few lines I had managed to stitch together. Maybe one day, though, I could bring myself to be brave enough to write a whole blog entry in Filipino. I'm not exactly sure if this still qualifies for a brief entry. Sorry, people. I really have to hit the sack now. TTFN.

xx, Aine.



P.S.

SIGH.

Daddylo

I remember your toothless grin.

I remember how you used to giggle at the slightest of things.

Do you remember the times when I used to rest my palms on your bald head and call it bolang krystal? Or the times when we mused over your veins that snaked over your strong arms?

Do you remember when you used to carry me on your back and we'd laugh about something only the two of us knew?

I was your first grandchild, and Mommy used to tell me you used to hide me from the youth at church. Do you remember? The youth always barged in the parsonage after their fellowship and you would run me upstairs because you didn't want them to take turns kissing my chubby cheeks.

I was your first grandchild, and I remember you built a highchair for me where I'd happily sit whenever I devour spoonfuls of the experimental porridge Mommylo used to make. Do you remember?

I was your first grandchild, and I can never recall a moment when you didn't play your hand-made ukelele. You said nobody taught you music, so you made your own.


I remember.


I remember the times you and Mommylo would spend the whole day talking about something only the two of you seemed to know. It makes me smile, you know. Then I decided that if ever I'm going to marry somebody, he's going to be a lot like you -- somebody who I could spend the rest of my life with, and still never run out of things to talk about.

I remember how you loved to massage Mommylo's pained legs and how you treated her extra special as if you were still courting her. I remember how the two of you used to whisper to each other as if you were sharing a secret the world didn't know.

I remember how we used to have family devotionals that would last for hours, that Anne would sometimes doze off before we even finish. I remember how we always racked our brains for memory verses whenever you asked us to. Then you'd tell us stories. You always loved to tell stories. I remember. I'd miss them.

I'd miss how you always taught me how to debate and how your eyes sparkled whenever Mommy says I'm going to be a lawyer. I remember the proud smile plastered on your face when I asked for your book on the Civil Code. I remember how you paused when I told you about Bible School. And I remember how you patted my back afterwards and mumbled something incomprehensible.


I remember you wake up early each morning and sing hymns with Mommylo with your raspy voice. I remember how your eyes seem to dance whenever you talk about Jesus. I remember how you used to give me sermons with a singsong tone. I remember how you didn't want me to do the dishes. I remember how you insisted to do it yourself.

I was supposed to tour you around the world, wasn't I, Dad? I'm sorry you had to leave so soon. I'm sorry you wouldn't be able to witness the Lord's plan for me. I wanted you to know first. I wanted to see your smile when you see me following the Lord's will. I wanted to. I even wanted my children to learn from you.


I'd miss you, Dad. I'd miss how your eyes disappeared whenever you smile. I'd miss your smile wrinkles at the corners of your eyes. I'd miss your stubby toes that dig itself through the warm soil you used to till. I'd miss your sandpaper hands that would let themselves rest on my lap whenever you talk to me about the treasures in life. I'd miss how your prominent nose twitches whenever somebody compliments your son. I'd miss your smile -- the sweetest one I had ever seen.


I'd miss how you used to say you love me. I miss you.

You would forever be in my heart, Dad. Someday, I'm going to join you up there. Yes, with the Lord's help, I am going to finish this race just like you. I know if you were still here, you'd have your toothless grin on display again. And I'd love that.


Thank you, Daddylo...for everything. I love you. So much. So, so much.


Love,
Aine

Pampam Falls of Kalubihon

There is more to Iligan than Tinago and Ma. Christina Falls. Believe it or not, in this tiny city of Northern Mindanao lie 23 waterfalls. Although not originally an Iliganon, I grew up here. I thought this was my turf, but I realized that there are a lot of things that I had actually missed.

Only Tinago and Ma. Christina are the most-visited waterfalls in the city. I have been there, of course. I have been to Mimbalot Falls too, though it's already developed now so I suppose it would not be long enough before people would crowd themselves at the place. Somehow, seeing the well-known waterfalls didn't satisfy me enough, rather it was like being starved for weeks and only managed to scavenge a small loaf of bread to eat. Yes, I was still hungry.

Last night, I scanned through my classmate's photos and was delighted to find this folder of photos of us during our trip to the hidden Pampam Falls. This waterfall is located at Kalubihon, a barangay just before Dalipuga and believe it or not, it is much more beautiful than the other waterfalls I had seen around the city. I am not exaggerating. Maybe it's because nobody had plans of developing the waterfall, I do not know.

We had to ride motorcycles that could fit five persons just because jeepneys were scarce in this area of the city. It was Nikko, an acquaintance, who became our tour guide as he had been to the place a couple of times before. He lives at Kalubihon so getting lost never haunted us.

This is me getting behind on the tracks. How could they walk so fast? I was literally panting like a dog when we reached the destination. It was like a five-kilometer walk, I think, from the rocky road (hmm, ice cream!) to the waterfall. Although the trail in the photo seems too easy to walk on, trust me, I had the worst experiences trying to catch up with my swift-footed classmates.

YAY! Looks like I did catch up!

This is dry land. You could just imagine how large the blisters on my foot were after I slipped a couple of times at the muddy area. Do you know how much I wanted to cry and just go home? But I remembered I was a big girl already so I sucked it up and acted brave and strong. Woop!

At last we arrived at our destination. As you can see, the water is beyond clear. It's actually better in person, but whatever. It is certainly beautiful.

Enchanting, isn't it?

Lewey here couldn't wait and quickly took off his shirt and dove for the water. I couldn't blame the guy, though. The water was remedy to the scorching heat of the sun.

Here I am again, who after several minutes, decided to wade in. I didn't bring clothes with me thinking the place wasn't worth a swim, but I realized how wrong I had been. Thank you, Kenneth and Paul for lending me shirts. They're still with me after several months. You don't think they're better off with me, do you?

I reminded myself to always stay close to the edge. There were deep parts that I couldn't even feel the floor, and for those who do not know, I do not now how to swim. You could just imagine how scared I was trying to wade to the other side of the waterfall. I kept on imagining diwatas hiding underwater, waiting to take advantage of my weakness.

Nah, I was only kidding. I did not imagine those mythical creatures, but I was still kind of scared of how deep the water was. I remembered when I jumped off a boulder and my bottom landed on a large rock hard. I think it remained bruised for a whole week.

Ninja-ninja in the water. I love this game. I believe I won here too :D:D Oh, look at my pose, I could be a real ninja. LOL.

If you think Tarzan and Jane were only in the deep jungle, think again. We took turns swinging with that flexible branch I'm grasping on the photo for a whole two hours, I think, I felt like I was this generation's Jane, but only in an over-sized shirt and denim shorts. Yes, this was when my bottom landed on an invisible rock below the water. Ouch.

 A quick shot of Paul and I with our obnoxious Miss Universe poses before we headed back to Nikko's house.

This my friends, is Pampam Falls. It's amazing how God could create majestic spots such as this. Nobody else could have made anything as beautiful as this. Although the walk back and forth the waterfall nearly killed me (I was wheezing!), I did not regret visiting the place. The experience was priceless, and it felt like I had been transported to a different world. Yes, I felt like Jane -- left behind and unaware of the real earth.

Will I go back to the waterfall?

Certainly! But only if someone is willing to carry me on his/her back. Haha. I guess since nobody is willing to, I think I should just resort to working out with my cardio. Yes, walks really are agonizing when you're a girl with an exercise-deprived body.

Next stop, I think, would be the highest waterfall in the Philippines, Limunsudan Falls, of Rogongon. If you want to know what it looks like, here it is:

I read somewhere that Limunsudan Falls is harder to reach than Pampam, but I still want to go there. I just hope I could actually take a swim here, not that I know how. If all else fails, though, it's okay. I heard Rogongon has a lot more less violent waterfalls, so I don't think the future trip would really be in vain.

I know this is a long post...again, but I hope it's okay. I missed posting entries with a lot of photos, so please bear with me. :)

Sawat di khaa, Aine.  GOD bless you. <3

When the World is Screaming "Feminism"

I know. This is a pretty long post. Please bear with me because I actually like this entry. Basaha tanan. Haha.

Simone de Beauvoir, a feminist and an important proponent in literary criticism, argued in her essay, "The Second Sex", that women should wake up, stand up, and change how society has degraded them through the myths that it has created for the people to believe in. Literature, according to her, had always presented females as weak and inferior to men, which is an insult to women, and a motivation for men to view the opposite sex as lesser beings than themselves. This realization not only saddened her, but also made her furious at society and the norms it had set for the people to follow.

Honestly, Feminism's original aim had appealed to me before, especially when it defended the abused women. That was about it, though. Unfortunately, the feminists didn't seem to be contented with this that their objectives had escalated into a movement with more demands. All of a sudden, Feminism was more than just protecting women. It had become a rebellion, somehow, and it honestly disgusted me. There are even a number of instances that Feminism goes over the border of gender just so they could tell the world how women are deprived of a lot of things.

One of the last lessons we took up for midterms in our Literary Criticism class was the Queer Gender Theory. Believe it or not, this is only an extension of Feminism, and, yes, its proponents were feminists. The Queer Gender Theory focuses on how heterosexuality has become a burden in society. I am not really good at explaining things, so to further elaborate on what I am talking about, I think I'd just share my answer to a check-up quiz we had about this theory.

Discuss heterosexuality and lesbian experience according to Adrienne Rich.

Rich argues that heterosexuality abuses women. Heterosexuality, according to her, emphasizes how we tend to make men superior over women, to the point of depriving women of their sexuality and making them objects to men. Lesbianism, then, is just channeling a female's energy to another female. It acts as a rebellion to heterosexuality and showing the world that females are also capable of taking over their sexuality and taking control over themselves.

You could just imagine what I was thinking while writing this. This is when Feminism goes crazy.

It saddens me whenever I think about this and how people want to be over the otherss. They think being superior and liberal is a human right! Feminists think women are not supposed to be where they are right now -- under men. As much as I agree with the fact that some men do take advantage of the weakness of women, I also believe this, Feminism, is just too much. We are supposed to view others better than ourselves. We are supposed to want to serve others. Why are we trying so hard to be up at the top? Why are we trying so hard to be where we should not be? Why do we want to make worldly royals of ourselves?

This also reminds me of the time when the serpent deceived Eve. The serpent coaxed her to take a bite of the fruit that God had told them not to eat. Eve yielded to the serpent, as we all know, because of her desire to be better than she already is. I know you know what happened next. Looking at it, the feminists do have a similar way of thinking.

The Bible says that we should have a heart of a servant, through Him, our Lord Jesus. Either they didn't know that, or they didn't want to. We have to remember that even our Lord, Jesus Christ, became a servant himself. Who are we to complain? Our Lord didn't.

Our professor, who's a guy, by the way, joked about it while we were discussing the theory. He ranted about why females still wanted gentlemen to hold the doors open for them, pay for the bill during dates, pull the chair for them, or carry heavy things for them, when they wanted equality in the first place. Females always cry for equality, yet when the males give it to them even in the slightest of things, they go on saying, "Be a gentleman!" I believe I was the only one in class who shouted, "Hear here!" Being in a class full of females and homosexuals, I don't think it would be easy for me to vent out my belief with regard to this issue.

Honestly, I still do not get how feminists wanted to be on the same platform the males are on. Simone de Beauvoir opposes Eternal Femininity which is a belief that females are bound to stick to their roles being a woman -- modest and submissive. Beauvoir claims this belief to be terribly wrong. I beg to disagree.

I believe being feminine is undeniably beautiful. Being feminine isn't about being weak. It never was supposed to be viewed that way, in the first place. Could you imagine a world when gender isn't a distinction anymore? It wouldn't be as lovely as the Feminists say it would be. Why would you think the Lord created a male and a female? If the Lord wanted the genders to be completely equal in society, He could have just created men. There is beauty in difference. That's why He created females especially different from males. Wake up.

So what if feminists cry to us about being slaves to the norms of society? So what if they want power and we don't? Life is not about trying to be on the top of the ranks. Life is not about seeking for equality in society. We do not need that. The Bible tells us that there is no male nor female in God's love. For Him, we are equal. Even Christ died for all of us -- not just the Jews, not just the males...but for all of us. So the next time the world screams "Feminism" right at our ears, let us just immerse ourselves in God's equal love for us, and all noises and rallies of the world would be barely noticeable.

"There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians 3:28

xx, Aine <3

P.S. I am so proud of you. You actually finished reading this? Wow. Clap, clap, clap. Thanks. GOD bless you. Read previous posts? I posted two today. Haha. :3

Something I said I'd share

Which writer created the biggest impact in your life? How is he/she set apart from others?


Life is too short. Life is too fragile. Somebody said that life is just a vapor in this earth. It quickly disappears as if it, life, had never been there. But as delicate as it may seem, I had believed with all my heart since I was a little girl that it, too, is just as soft and as easy to mold as the clay the potters spin and shape. My life is no exception. In fact, I had never met anybody who is as easily influenced as I am. Yes, I admit I am stubborn in my own little ways, but I could not deny the fact that even the slightest things in life such as a literary work could push my whole being into an invisible portal. Thus, the change. Thus, my present self.



He is popularly known as King David. For the people who knew his past, they sometimes call him David, the little shepherd boy who struck the giant Goliath dead with a tiny pebble. He had defeated and conquered thousands of nations. He had led a whole kingdom into prosperity. He was revered. He was praised. He was a man after the Lord's heart. King David, for most, had been a king of great power who held a sharp sword on his right hand, and the whole kingdom on the other. For me, though, it was different. All my life he had appeared at the back of my mind as a man holding a pen and a harp. It is no surprise I had pictured him this way. After all, it was not his strength that made me adore him, but his weaknesses that he had humbly spilled on his psalms. He was a writer. He was the writer who shook my whole life hard. It was his works that had allowed my soul to be broken. And it was his works that allowed my soul to be perfected.

David might had not been able to come up with a beautiful novel or had published a best-selling book, but he had touched my life more than the rest of the brilliant writers did. If the writers of today had ingeniously made a new world for the readers to escape to, David wrote about reality. He wrote about life. He wrote about the truth. He wrote about God, and how He holds our lives no matter what circumstance we are in. Just like David, I had also been on the rocks. I had walked through the valley of death, though never alone. Just like David, I had never been alone. David was was the writer who seemed to be every Christian's twin in spirit. Whatever he wrote seemed to exactly what I am also going through at the moment. How incredible is that?

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters."

Unlike the writers who just included the truth and dirt about society in their works, David wrote about "the" solution. Although he sometimes cries about the hardships and achings of life,  light was still evident in his writings and it was never hidden. It was presented like a lighthouse on the shore, and like the brightest candle in the darkest room. And whenever I feel like giving up on the things this life throws at me, David's psalms calm me down and encourage me to stand up once again, turn my face towards the light, and abandon the shadows. If that's not what you call "impact", I do not know what that is.



Clay dries up easily. So does my life could end in just a blink of an eye. This is probably why the world does its best to hurl thousands of things at me with the intention of molding me as badly as possible. Yes. I am still a clay on the wheel. The Potter's hands are still shaping me to perfection. Thankfully, God had placed David in my life and had used him and his works to help shape me the way He wants me to be shaped. He was the writer who I'd gladly say had helped me be who I am right now. And if asked again about the writer who created the greatest impact in my life, I'd still choose David over and over again.






End.

That was the I-don't-know-what-to-say essay I had submitted a week ago. It's not exactly how I would want it to be written, honestly, but I had no time left. I even deleted a whole paragraph just so I could pass the essay on time. :( It's not the best I've written, I know, but it's the one that I had searched deep for, and the one I had prayed to the Lord for, so I believe this is something worth sharing. Thanks for reading. Check out my previous posts if you haven't yet. Ciao, Aine. <3

When it gets serious :"3

This is a random blah-blah I made up the other night. With regard to style, I suppose this is my first shot in children's story, though I don't think this even qualifies for children's story. The style is entirely different from what I had been accustomed to so I suppose it is a children's story in its own way. The intention, however, of writing this piece isn't exactly for the children to read but for us, "young adults", to understand. Whatever. I actually think I made a mistake recently and I have no better way of reminding myself not to do it again than to write something related to it. Enough with my extremely long-ish intro. Enjoy and read well. I mean it. :)

This morning, a large man brings me to a pink room with candy pink wallpaper. He stops and looks at me tentatively. I wonder if he'll speak to me soon. Mama says I should never talk to strangers. Although he looks vaguely familiar, I don't think he'd pass for somebody I really know. The man smiles with his perfect teeth, and hands me two large glass bowls of gums and candy. Only one is mine, he said. The other bowl is for me to take care of while its owner is still on her way. The man leaves me and I start to cry. For a long time I had been staring at the bowls of candy but I do not know which one is for me to take. I want to try them already. The colors pop out from the pretty glass bowls like they are urging me to take a piece. I sit down and lay both bowls on a sturdy table in front of me. After singing my alphabet and reciting my numbers, my eyes resume to staring at the bowls of candy. They both want me to try them, I could almost hear their voices pleading out to me, "Take me! Take me!" I hesitate. The bowl on the right had pink and yellow candies. The one on the left had blue and pink ones. Pink candies! My mouth waters and I check the time. The other girl doesn't arrive yet so I decide to take one candy from the left. She wouldn't mind. This probably is my bowl, anyway. So I take a piece. When the sweet pink candy dissolves in my mouth, I reach out for another one, this time from the right. She wouldn't notice any difference, I proudly tell myself.

When I realize I am still alone, I continue popping hard candies in my mouth until my stomach got sick. I slowly turn about, ready to leave for my mama, but the other girl arrives. Her eyes blink twice when she steps in and she has the most beautiful pigtails that fell on her sides, I notice. She offers me a smile and strides forward. I smile back timidly. As soon as she gets near me, her smile slips off her face and her eyes begin to water. My cheeks flush scarlet. I had nearly finished off her bowl and now my heart feels sorry. I am filled with guilt and shame. And when I see the girl fall to the floor with her almost-empty bowl, I begin to cry too. I had been a bad girl, Mama would be so angry. When I fall beside the girl, I mumble my sorry and she turns to me with the saddest face I have ever seen. "You can't bring it back, can you?" she whispers.

I wake up and smile when I realize it was just a dream. But just before I could get off my bed, I hear my door go knock, knock, knock. My head turns towards it and it opens. Papa slowly slips in my room and he sits on my soft, pink bed. He gives me the longest hug before he plants a kiss on my forehead. Because it's my birthday, Papa says, I would be getting treats. I beam and bounce slightly on my bed when he passes me two equally-sized boxes of candies. Papa winks and tells me only one is mine. He'll come back later, he says. Then he leaves me holding the boxes, as I try to figure out which of the two is mine.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

It's hard to write a story without a dialogue, by the way, especially if you're trying to sound like a little girl. Bah, anyway, I hope there was something you understood with that extremely short story. If you didn't quite get it, it's okay, you could read it again. I actually didn't intend to write it this way. I was originally driven to write a poem that night, but my female brain stubbornly strayed and transformed my idea into something else.

"Two roads diverged on a yellow wood

And sorry I could not travel both..."

Victory through Christ

"Thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." 1 Corinthians 15:57


"Congratulations to Ms. Codas of Sparta 4 being our touchstone of the month!"

There was a brief moment of silence after I read my professor's text message. Then I let out an involuntary squeal. Twice. I was at Himantayon Avenue, the college's main hallway, and a few heads turned, but I was too overwhelmed to even care.

Our department had announced last June that it would be holding monthly competitions for "Touchstone", and ever since, I had been praying that I would get the title. Guess what. I just did! I could not believe this. When I heard about the results, I felt like pinching myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming, but instead, I grabbed Lovelyn who was beside me then and shook her back and forth like a rag doll (Sorry, love). I feel giddy until now, actually, and I want to do a set of cartwheels. Unfortunately, I do not know how, so I guess I'm going to stick to just skipping and hopping around the place being a typical girly-girl. *squeals*


The term Touchstone was used by English poet and critic, Matthew Arnold in his approach in literary criticism. His concept used a standard of instant comparison for judging the value of other works. He used great works to be viewed as standards of excellence for the writers today with the intention of retaining high poetic quality. Arnold calls these works "touchstones". In our case, Touchstones were meant to be students who should be viewed as role models or "standards of excellence". Could you actually believe how awesome it sounds?

So this is basically how it works. There are three houses in the AB English Organization -- Sparta, Athens, and Troy -- and each month, each house should choose a representative to go through a series of tests/competitions.The representatives should undergo screenings on writing, speaking, and general knowledge (linguistics, literature, TESL, etc.). The over-all winner would then be hailed "Touchstone", have his/her over-sized self-portrait and autobiography posted on the bulletin board, and be qualified to compete for "Touchstone of the Year" or what we'd like to call, "The Grand Finals".


"Whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Colossians 3:17


Honestly, I was thinking of backing out when I first learned the representatives from the other two houses were both seniors. I mean, most of the questions were from Descriptive Linguistics and TESL, and I haven't even gone through those yet. What made me even nervous was the fact that from the usual three judges, we had a whopping SIX now. Imagine six people, experts in their respective fields, reading your essay, listening to you deliver your speech, and watching you give wrong answers to the quiz bowl. It was giving me nerves, actually, though I was confident God was with me the whole day. I remained silent the whole time, praying to the Lord that whatever happens, His name would be glorified. Before I had even received the question for the essay-writing, I had already accepted that if ever I lose, that's the Lord's will. I sucked it up -- my desire to win -- and waited for everything to happen.


Essay-writing was not really my cup of tea. I never even knew how to write a decent one until I got in college! We were given an hour to write about the writer who had made the greatest impact in our lives and how he/she is set apart from others. I love it. I love the topic. I was excited for a reason. It was as if the Holy Spirit was urging me to deviate from being an average English major who only had a mental list of English's greatest classic writers. I didn't even know if the person I had in mind would be considered as a legitimate writer, but I just went along with His whispers and decided to stop being skeptical. I knew the Lord wanted to use me there. Right at that moment. I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath, fluttered my lids open again, and started writing.



I miraculously won the quiz bowl. Kuya Michael (from the House of Troy), on the other hand, won the extemporaneous speech. The last result to be announced was the essay-writing category. Since each category was given thirty points flat, one of us had to win in the essay-writing category to be the official Touchstone. I didn't even bother to be nervous. I think it was my Linguistics exam that did me. That, or the fact that I knew Ate Harlene and Kuya Michael might be better writers than I am. It didn't matter. There was this peace inside of me that says everything is fine, win or lose. I had a smile plastered on my face the whole day. I was floating in joy, despite the blanks on my Linguistics test paper that I had failed to answer. My essay won, after all. I just hope it was not only the quality of the language that the judges have seen, but the deeper truth within. -- the One that really mattered. I leave the Lord to work in them.


So there. The story of my previous activities had been laid down on a single blog post. It might not be as exciting as yours, but I still want to share the victory that God has granted me through Him. I am on cloud nine. This might not be my wedding day, but this is still an anecdote of my life that I'd gladly place on my storybook of memoirs.

 "Give thanks to the LORD, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done." 1 Chronicles 16:8


Until the next victory post. TTFN. <3


P.S. Thanks for the prayers. I might post the essay any day, as soon as I find my draft. It's missing and I do not know where I had placed it last. Silly, forgetful me. :D