'Twas the Night Before Christmas

No festivity at home (noche buena it is called) could begin without first worshiping the Reason for Christmas with fellow believers. 

  

We believe that true worship of the Lord isn't about physical places (like Jerusalem or our church) but a sincere, internal connection: God is Spirit, so worship must be "in spirit" (heartfelt, genuine) and "in truth" (knowing and aligning with God's revealed character, Jesus). It shifts worship from outward rituals to an inner relationship, emphasizing the spiritual nature of God and kindred souls. 

It was a solemn hour of thanksgiving. 

The choir, like the angels in Bethlehem on the day Love came down, sang praises to honor our King. 

Our pastor spoke about the “Promise fulfilled” so sinful mankind can be saved. 

Then we re-enacted what Jesus instructed his followers, as recalled by Paul in 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 (ESV), “… on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, ‘This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way also he took the cup, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’ For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.” 

The bread represents his body broken for wholeness, and the cup his blood shed for the forgiveness of sins, establishing a New Covenant.

We soaked in His grace as we celebrated His birth.  

Christmas Celebrates the Giver

This image macro (more popularly known as meme) appeared on our church’s FB page two days before Dec. 25. It was to remind us that . . . In a season full noise, gifts, and distractions, Christmas is about Jesus, the reason, the hope, and the light that never fades.  

If I may paraphrase Albert Benjamin (A.B.) Simpson, the founder of the Christian and Missionary Alliance . . . 

Christmas is not just a holiday, but a profound demonstration of God's love, emphasizing Jesus's birth as the central event for salvation, healing, and the coming of God's kingdom on Earth. Rather than worldly festivities, Christmas celebrates the transformation He offers, leading to a life of service and witnessing His "Fourfold Gospel" of Salvation, Sanctification, Healing, and the Second Coming.

Focus on the Giver, Not Gifts: celebrate ‘The Giver,’ Jesus Christ, who came to save humanity from sin, It is about spiritual renewal rather than material exchange.

It is the birth of the church’s purpose: The infant Jesus represented the beginning of a Church meant to be a haven for the lost, a place of healing, training, and equipping believers for spiritual warfare, far beyond mere social gatherings.

Our church’s Christmas program, as designed by a committee and led by our pastor, centered on fellowship with faith brethren. More than fun, games and gifts, the emphasis was on testimonies of God’s faithfulness. 

Our CHRISTMAS was a celebration of the GIVER: JESUS 

X Is Not about the Past

Once I worked in a big advertising agency in the country named DYR (Dentsu, Young and Rubicam-Alcantara).  It was a merger between the biggest ad agency in Japan (Dentsu), the biggest ad agency in the US (Young and Rubicam) and its local partner, Alcantara. 

The partnership ended in the early 2000s. The new boss pressured me to specify December 31 as my resignation effectivity, otherwise I won’t get my full separation pay. It was only September, and I told him I had a four-month accumulated leave. It’d be forfeited if I didn’t take it. He shrugged. So right then and there, I decided to exit without a whimper.  

I was head of several units, but there was no chance to say good-bye to everyone: they were busy chasing  deadlines or on a client call.   

After the organization formally closed, someone created a group chat called XDYR. For years, peers in the well-knit company kept in touch and would meet quarterly for dinner and chats. I missed all those events because then, I didn’t want to compromise Tony’s comorbidity. 

With Tony gone, I joined them for the first time in November. About 30 of us met at JT’s Manukan Grille (their usual haunt) in Makati. I was relentlessly chided for disappearing like a smoke. Except for change of hair color and deep laugh lines, everyone seemed like they froze in time. The blustery jokes and boisterous laughter were exactly as I remember them. 

All 25 years vanished, but new topics of conversation emerged—grandchildren and retirement. 

Long-long, the hero in my latest book, “Ready, Set, Focus” arrived with his wife and he gamely posed for photographs, duplicating the cover. 

Every DYR department seemed represented: Media, Account Management, Audio-Visual, HR, Art Studio, Maintenance, and Services.  

That night, I did NOT travel back in time.  X in DYR means grace for today and every day thereafter. 

What a Difference a Year Makes

Has it been a year? Yesterday, I fussed over the things I would bring to our 81st annual reunion. 

It was the same scenario a year ago. But the packed bag stayed put—and got unpacked later in the afternoon. That day last year replays in slomo in my mind today. But the anxiety has been replaced by a quiet resolve to keep going.

Tony then had difficulty breathing even with slight exertion. He had decided to stay home but was insistent for me, the boys, and my sister Aie to go. I had to quickly plan a ruse—and to his surprise I stayed. Then Sammy (our driver) and I rushed to buy him a wheelchair. He and Judge, our pet dog,  couldn’t understand what it was for.  

Mother Teresa, Sammy, and I begged him to please use it; he did for a few minutes to humor us, but decided to simply lie down and read a book. And the next day . . . 

This bag is finally going to that reunion—a chance to bond with nieces, nephews, and grandkids.

  

The oldies are now all having another reunion in eternal land. On tierra firma, they are replaced by me and some of my cousins who are still ambling along.  

Only one third of the clan population will be there (from Dec. 30 to Jan. 1) because of diaspora. But our number is enough to call it a crowd. This, my mom’s side of the family, is huge. 

There, we will soak in the grace of laughter to end the year and start a new one.

"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." 1 Peter 5:7 NIV

Three Mateos in One

All my three sons are coffee connoisseurs or experts. They deeply appreciate and understand the subtle qualities of coffee.  I overhear them talking about flavor profiles, bean types, roast levels, and brewing methods. Duh. 

I drink only three-in-one. It’s a convenient mix of instant coffee, sugar, and creamer pre-blended and packed in single-serving sachets. I simply need to add hot water and I have my coffee! Fast and easy. 

My three-Mateos-in-one was just as fast and easy.   

While writing the first book in the Oh, Mateo! series (total of 16 books to date), I needed a Filipino name for the little hero. I didn’t have to look far. My dad, my brother, and my brother’s son are all Mateos.

At that time, I wasn’t thinking of a series, but that first book, The Boy Who Had five Lolas, won first prize in the Palanca Awards. I wrote a second one, Apo Mayor, using the same character. Guess what. It won another Palanca first prize the following year. And so Mateo went on . . . and on . . . and on. 

Last week, my sis Aie sent photos of the three Mateos that she salvaged from the monstrous flood that damaged our ancestral home. “Look, manangest!*” she wrote. “Your three Mateos.”  

(Left to right) My dad had long gone home. My brother Mateo Jr. is now a senior citizen, and Mateo III is running a thriving family business. 

Twenty four years is a long time, but the Mateo in my books is still the adventurous, smart,  and God-fearing eight-year-old who, as a role model, is helping shape Christian values among readers. 

In the Bible (the scripture of my faith), the first book in the New Testament is Matthew (Mateo in Filipino), which presents Jesus as the Messiah and King, fulfilling Old Testament prophesies to establish the "Kingdom of Heaven.” It details Jesus' birth, ministry, miracles, and teachings as Emmanuel (God with us). In Matthew, Jesus, the promised King, issues a universal call to make disciples of all nations.

ooo

*Manangest is the superlative form (our family group chat invention) of manang, an Ilocano honorific for older female.  I happen to be the oldest of the brood, see? 

Christmas: Unchanging Joy

For the first time in 55 years, I (and my family) am celebrating Christmas without Tony. Should I wallow in grief? 

Not. 

Christmas joy must prevail. It is rooted in the unchanging nature of God and the timeless message of Jesus' birth, love, and salvation, rather than fleeting earthly circumstances or emotions. 

Grace has taught me, as a believer in Scripture, that unlike temporary happiness, which is dependent on things like gifts, perfect family dynamics, or positive conditions, true joy is a stable, internal state that endures. Regardless of life's dark seasons, Jesus is. He is "the same yesterday and today and forever" (Hebrews 13:8). 

For me, the foundation of this Christmas joy is immune to the shifting shadows of life. It is a reminder of God's enduring faithfulness and promises. 

The Christmas message is timeless: that God sent His Son to offer hope, love, peace, and salvation to all people. It changes not from years of bad news and devastation getting worse every day. 

While Christmas 2025 involves a roller-coaster of my emotions, the underlying joy is constant because it connects to divine love and presence of God made accessible through Jesus' birth. 

Our family Christmas traditions continue: 

Son #3 prepares the turkey and go-withs, aided by mother Teresa . . . I do the turkey booties . . . son #2 and family send a fiesta feast good for a mob . . . son #1 serves a spread of charcuterie (gift from a friend) on the dining table, takes photos, and munch on a drumstick . . . Aie is always a supportive and affirming presence . . . we all pig out (this year on a new dining table in a newly renovated 48-year-old house).

Then I shriek with hysteria over my new Bible and books plus other presents . . . I sob over a now defunct tradition of Tony grinning widely, receiving his new Prince Valiant book from son #1 (I can dwell on that forever as a memory) . . . I go to bed before midnight; and finally . . . 

We each thank the newborn King, the risen Savior, personally during our quiet moments before a restful night to wake up to new blessings on Christmas day.

Merry CHRISTmas!

Performative Male?!

Now as old as the hills, I am still constantly enabled by grace to learn something new and surprising every day. 

I borrowed this photo from Mark because my book, The Teacher in Me, is in one hand and matcha on the other. My advocacy is for young people to love reading the printed page. 

But when I saw him in church, he explained that the photo was about being a performative male. 

"What’s that?"  

He tried to explain, but I couldn’t understand a word. The many young people around us giggled. 

Then one of them, Carla, sent me later an article to explain it.  

Further research opened my ears and eyes. It originated from J.L. Austin's concept of "performative utterances" but has evolved into a modern social media archetype.  It describes men curating a persona to attract women, who reject “toxic masculinity” because they prefer sensitive souls that: listen to evocative music, read specific books, carry tote bags with feminist slogans, wear certain t-shirts,  drink matcha, and adopt an aesthetic look, even with zero interest in them.  

“Performative male” is viewed as a fake portrayal of real values, but done only to project an image of a “nice guy" who is politically aware. 

Knowing Mark, an active youth leader in church, with various ministries (a real nice guy) and who reads the good Book, I realized the photo is just one of his jokes, a satire, so to speak. I have never doubted his being a sensitive soul. As a playful jokester, he finds ways to make people (like me) smile and laugh. 

 

Thank you Lord for blessing us with a vibrant, enthusiastic youth group in our church. We who are in our twilight years are assured that those whom we will leave behind will be focused, not on themselves or the world, but solely on You. Amen.  

Saturday Nights Year Six

From Reuben Tribe, our church’s small group’s name was changed to Kalye Gamaliel. based on the new curriculum. 

In the Bible, Gamaliel was a highly respected Pharisee, Jewish law expert, and member of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish high court (Book of Acts). He was known for his wisdom, lenient approach to the law, and for being the teacher of Saul (who later became Apostle Paul). 

As a mentor of Saul of Tarsus (Acts 22:3), he taught lenient approach to the law. When the Sanhedrin wanted to execute the apostles for preaching Jesus, Gamaliel urged moderation:

“So my advice is, leave these men alone. Let them go. If they are planning and doing these things merely on their own, it will soon be overthrown. But if it is from God, you will not be able to overthrow them. You may even find yourselves fighting against God!” Acts 5:38 NLT 

His principles encouraged discernment: first processing and assessing new movements of people and events before acting rashly against them. In our language today, “Chill!” “Chllax!” What a coincidence that our facilitator is a lawyer (son #3).  

Back to our Saturday Nights—from Kalye Gamaliel, our name might change again, based on a newer curriculum. But the essence of our small group remains—camaraderie and enthusiasm over food, laughter, chats, testimonies, praises, and most importantly, gaining deeper insights into and discernment of the Lord’s message to us.  

Our Saturday nights teem with grace.

Gift of Time

“Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11

At no time in the history of cosmetics have women been more vocal about looking younger and prettier than today.

Beauty products that are focused on looks for women, and even for men, have become multi-billion-dollar businesses. Never before have there been more gyms and spas to make people feel good about themselves.

Beauty clinics have likewise been ultra lucrative. Every day, there is someone undergoing surgery or treatment for bigger eyes, a higher nose bridge, firmer breasts, and whiter skin – and talking about it in ads or to friends.

“Take 10 years off your face,” one ad says. By eliminating eye bags, wrinkles, sagging jowls and the telltale signs of aging, one can indeed look younger.

But Mark Twain said this about aging: “Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”

Aging is part of life as God designed it. We cannot stop it or deny it. We can have all the surgeries, cosmetics, herbs, and pills available to us today, but time will still tick by. We will grow old. And we will look it and feel it eventually, no matter how much we may try to delay it.

It is best, then, to enjoy the seasons of life – teens, 20s, 30s, 40s, 50s, and so on. Let’s delight in the different experiences that our life stages bring. With age comes wisdom and maturity that even the greatest mind of youth cannot begin to imagine.

Lord, thank You for the gift of time. Help me to use it as best as I can according to Your divine plan for my life.

(This post in one of the 365 entries in the devotional Grace Found Me, a recipient of the 2012 Gintong Aklat [Golden Book] Award, Inspirational Category, from the Book Development Association of the Philippines. I decided to revisit it because these days, aging seems to be a sin.) 

When Old Friends Meet: Magical

It took months and hundreds of postponements before this meet-up came through. And when it did, it was magical. 

If only two more (Ms. Yay and Ms. Ciel now both live abroad) were with us, it would have been manna.  

Meet-ups used to be often because we were all colleagues in a university, where students addressed us Ms., and where we each taught different subjects. 

But Ms. Caroline moved to another university, Ms. Ayet and Ms. Rose opted to teach online, and I was left alone teaching one subject F2F once a week. To say it was difficult to have the same free time is an understatement. 

So how did this finally happen? Health break. 

Schools and local governments declared a week-long  holiday because of the outbreak of a flu-like virus (cough and colds) that is highly infectious, with dangers of leading to serious complications.  

And so we created our own definition of health break: have a rare bonding time, reminiscing about the good old days. The laughter, food, and unhurried non-work hours did wonders for our health. 

It was magical!   

Privilege Card

It has become my norm to dine out alone to escape the dust and the grating sounds in our home. Since June, when the renovation of our 48-year-old house started, dust and sounds have been my daily associates. 

Without sounding schmaltzy, I look back to those days before Tony left us for his eternal home in January this year. I never had to dine alone—not at home or outside. 

Today, I had lunch in a resto that bears my name, Mary Grace. When I asked for my tab, the waiter asked, “Ma’am, do you have a privilege card?” 

I pondered that for a few seconds. “Sorry, no, I only have a senior citizen card.” 

He grinned. “That was what I meant, Ma’am. But others get offended with the word senior.” 

LOL. I have embraced the life of a senior from day one. With it comes so many privileges. I get escorted to the comfort room, sales people offer me a seat in a store, security guards open doors for me, traffic policemen help me cross a street, etc. I get preferential treatment in crowded or wide places wherever I go. 

Those are privileges (countless!) that came with my senior citizen card. 

I had written about this in one of books, "What, Me Retire?"  

The day I received my senior citizen card, I had it immediately laminated, and after caressing it, I kept it inside a special space in my cardholder. A week later, after dining in a resto with Tony, the waiter gave us the tab. Tony handed him his senior citizen card. And then . . . with dramatic flourish, I took my own new card and waved it in slomo to the waiter. I heard in my mind a background music swell into crescendo. 

It was a moment of rare privilege and grace.    

A Most Beautiful Event

Beautiful is such a common word that we use it each time we see something that refreshes the eyes. But I am using it here in the context of something that goes beyond what my eyes see--but what my heart and soul feel. 

Baptism.

It is a most beautiful event because it's a public celebration of a person's spiritual transformation and new life in Christ. With deep symbolic meaning, baptism provides an opportunity for me and the community of believers (the church to which I belong) to witness and support the person’s public declaration of faith. 

On our church’s 50th anniversary worship service, two young people were baptized. One of them, Ygo, is the elder son of the couple in whose wedding I was a ninang.  I have likewise seen how this kid grew up into a responsible young man, who decided to openly manifest his faith to a church brimming with witnesses. 

While Christ is his personal decision, baptism is a public, outward expression of that inner commitment to Jesus. Immersion in water symbolizes the death and burial of one's old, sinful life, and rising out of the water represents resurrection to a brand-new life with Christ. (I included an image of the dove as symbol of the Holy Spirit, representing His descent upon Jesus during His baptism and His presence in every baptized Christian.)

The other young man, Ryan, is relatively a new member of our church, but his walk with Jesus was quick, as though he ran all the way to the place where we see our own faith journey and God’s grace. 

This shared experience, as we continue to celebrate with thanksgiving our 50 years guided by our faithful God, strengthens our bonds. 

Following the Savior's example, this obedience is . . . beyond tears of joy and words.   

Quiet Endings

Tomorrow, it will be December. Today, an important part of my life ends; I say goodbye quietly to November. 

Dylan Thomas wrote, “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” The opposite is what I feel. I feel the grace of quiet endings.  

I had written about how I left the workplace (What, Me Retire?) where my advertising career lasted for over 20 years. I left without a huff for a complex reason. And today, I am leaving my teaching career of about the same number of years—gently into the night, again without a huff—for another complex reason. 

As I jokingly tell family and close friends, I have reached my point of irrelevance. Students have morphed into aliens I cannot recognize. Try as I might, I could no longer engage them, not with the tools of life I have learned through hard knocks.  

And then there’s AI. I teach critical writing, but in checking papers, I could not distinguish which part is  from some bot out there and which part is the student’s.    

Teaching has been just a few hours of my time during the week because I spend most of my days  writing books on grace. But I enjoyed interacting with young people and passing on everything  I know about the subject; I looked forward to either a Tuesday or whatever day I was assigned a class or two. 

Alas, the interaction is gone. Last  semester, I performed all magic tricks—soliloquy, song-and-dance, standing on my head, fire eating, etc.—before a stoic audience totally tuned off. And the saddest part is, some brazenly challenged comments on their work or questioned their grades. 

The last nail in the coffin was a gentle nudge from management for teachers to be careful in cracking jokes as some may get offended--through a memo. 

So a week ago, I chose not to go to the graduation rites, which I never failed to attend year after year. My presence would not have altered anything, neither would my absence. A silent exit it was.  

Coincidentally, the repairs and renovation of our 48-year-old house, which had begun in June, is finally finished.  By tomorrow, I should be relishing quiet peace. 

"There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven . . . A time to be silent and a time to speak; A time to love and a time to hate; A time for war and a time for peace."  Ecclesiastes 3:1, 7-8 (NLT)  

Locked Up for 28 Months

This post is more than two years too late. Photos popped up on my screen and all along I thought had already documented that amazing surprise. It turned out it was recorded only in my mind. 

Twenty eight months—that’s how long Filipinos in Metro Manila were incarcerated during the Covid-19 pandemic. By any standard, it was a mighty long time. 

Those times made my sons and I extremely vigilant about being infected, not so much for ourselves but for Tony who had comorbidity. Our home had to be sanitized with every turn, because according to his doctor, comorbidity is dangerous during a pandemic. 

Having pre-existing conditions made it more likely for him to experience severe outcomes from a viral infection. “A virus can affect multiple organ systems, and a compromised immune system or organ function from a comorbidity makes the body less able to fight off the infection, leading to a higher risk of complications, hospitalization, and death.” 

That was scary!  

(By God’s protective grace, Tony survived the pandemic, but he had to leave on the Lord’s scheduled day, two years later.)    

The lockdown was imposed on March 15, 2020 and lifted on July 21, 2023, a day after my 4th birthday in home confinement. 

At church after our women’s Sunday school, I was surprised with an impromptu, festive birthday song, in contrast to the quiet celebrations at home. My students (classmates, rather) handed me a makeshift birthday cake (frozen ham decorated with colorful thingamajigs borrowed from the children’s bulletin board and a birthday note) and made like a grand party. 

A little girl, who seemed to have me all figured out---including my pandemic hairdo--sent me this to cap the occasion.

 

That birthday two years ago was meant to to be celebrated. Every milestone (or every day) on earth is a time for thanksgiving.  

“O Lord, what is man that you regard him, or the son of man that you think of him? Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.” Psalm 144:3-4 ESV 

Year 19: Untold Colors of Grace

“Can you tell me all about the blog leavesofgrace.blogspot.com?” I asked AI. 

AI: “It has been in existence since November 24, 2006. The blog owner celebrated its 18th anniversary on November 24, 2024, stating, ‘And just like that, Leaves of Grace is 18 years old! On this same day, I posted my very first blog.’ The owner also mentions in another post that they [the politically correct pronoun AI uses for genders] haven't missed a beat since starting the page in 2006. As of November 2025, the blog has been in existence for approximately 19 years.” 

AI explained this blog’s history for me. It got all the facts right, but it could not possibly begin to know what it took me to write every single blog (total of 1976 to date). And by coincidence, the visitors’ number this November is 1.9 million. 

All my posts, in laughter or in pain, feeling broken or whole, have been about this verse, "And of his fulness have all we received, and grace for grace." John 1:16 (KJV) 

Through 19 years, untold grace has come in all colors, like leaves that vary through seasons and life stages.  I’ve written and continue to write about the seemingly mundane things that many people ignore. I’ve also written about epic events that people celebrate in a big way. 

In all, as I skim through every-three-to-four-day posts on my 19th year, I see big changes in my family, circles, clan, community, country, and the world as a whole. But what’s amazing is, the Source of it all, whose love and grace I can never write enough about, remains unchanging,   

Surround Sound

To audio enthusiasts, this term refers to a technique for enriching the fidelity and depth of sound reproduction through the use of multiple audio channels from speakers that surround the listener. 

I am not into sounds. A hearing impaired senior shuts out audio from her daily repertoire. But sounds have forced their way into my ears—everyday, except Sunday, since repairs/renovations of our 48-year-old house started in June. This is my version of surround sound. 

Imagine a cacophony of different grating sounds from power tools such as drills, saws, routers, nail guns, air compressors, planers, sanders, grinders, and scrapers!

The mess does not affect me as much as the sounds do. I could always ignore, skip, jump, walk on and around heaps of mishmash. 

But the surround sounds? Well, I guess that’s why they are called such.  They besiege, encircle, assail, and hem your ears in. 

The good news is, there will be an end to it all. The contractor promised  “Before Christmas,” when grace was birthed for man and therefore celebrated. What’s two more months of surround sound?  

Acronyms: IMHO

In My Humble (and Honest) Opinion, acronyms do not speed up communication among those who do not understand them. On the contrary, they hinder communication by causing confusion and excluding people unfamiliar with the terms. Their overall effect is a mixed bag.  

Before you think I am ranting, let me explain where I am coming from.

One, in our family business, a Medical Transcription Training School, it is a strict rule that the letters in an acronym need to be spelled out. Medical transcriptions are documents to be read by various sectors in society and therefore, they should be crystal clear, leaving no doubt in the reader’s mind about their meaning. 

Two, I worked for two decades in an adveretising agency. Clarity of message was our core goal,  In 30 seconds or less, the audience must know what exactly were we selling in concrete words. 

Three, as an author, I need to spell out the big idea creatively but clearly. Acronyms have to be explained, especially because there is a wave of internet-born acronyms—created by Gen Z’s (born 1997–2012)—like OTOH, GOAT, OTW, IICYMI, etc.These are a form of "in-group" communication that help sustain online communities, indicating a shared culture and identity. 

In sum, clarity is key in communication. 

People like me and my senior friends, who are technologically challenged and therefore not part of a specific subculture or online community, do not understand the acronyms, causing barriers in professional or inter-generational conversations.

While acronyms save time for the person typing, they require the reader to invest extra mental energy to decipher the meaning. Goodbye clarity.  

Again, IMHO, to ensure that acronyms help rather than hinder communication, context and audience are crucial. To those using acronyms, if I may, please make sure your reader is familiar with them, or use them sparingly. 

"Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone.” Colossians 4:6 NIV 

Have You been to Paradise?

I have—a few times—in the company of BFFs. This paradise is in the middle of nowhere, somewhere out there.  But it’s close enough to everywhere. 

It’s aptly called Paradiso, the Italian word for paradise or heaven, originating from ancient Greek that means a place of great beauty, peace, and joy. 

It is owned by a former colleague, who, after we parted ways, went on to head more organizations and made them grow. Yes, he has a green thumb—skill in making anything he lays his hands on to flourish. 

We fondly call him BoyP. He has recently decided to leave the rat race and concentrate on his bonsai hobby in a place he set up just for this purpose. And what a hobby it is! 

His exquisite bonsai collection is strewn all over Paradiso, on which sits a huge manor, a swimming pool, a life-size cauldron, plus all other amenities one can find in plush resorts, except that this paradise is warmer, more personal, and allows for intimate fellowships with friends now separated by time and space.  

Our most recent trip to Paradiso was another grace-filled day. It was organized by another former colleague, Bing, who had wanted long-time, scattered friends to re-connect, meet again, bond again, catch up, and reminisce about those precious ancient days, even if it was just for a few hours. 

Paradiso, a place of great beauty, peace, and joy, more than lived up to its name all over again.  

 

A Small-Large Family

Ours is a very small family: Three sons. 

Only son #2 is married and added two to our small number: a daughter-in-love and one grandson. But they live abroad. Now with Tony no longer in the count, our unit has become even smaller. 

To celebrate a milestone, son#2 and his family never fail to send us party food. This year, on son #3’s birthday, all three of us (son#1 and son#3) shared the yum. That is now our new version of celebration, which has nothing to do with numbers.  Special days are blessings from above and so we thank the giver of grace who keeps us grounded.  

Ours is a very large family: A church-full of fellow believers, with whom we share our Sundays and other days of the week to pray and study the Word. There, I have dozens and dozens of nieces and nephews, rooms full of grandkids, who "mano" every time they see me. 

On son #3’s birthday, he was greeted by about 300+ of all church mates—of all ages. What a celebration it was! 

He was gifted with a cake, while the crowd sang the birthday song before he blew the candles. Then they flooded him with words of joy, tributes they are called.  I was asked by our pastor to say my piece before he led the prayer for my youngest son, now the chairman of the church board, but who was not even an idea when my family became a member of this faithful church—now celebrating its 50th year.  

All of these are recorded on videos and in my heart and mind (for as long as the Lord allows it to hold them). 

For now, I have these two photos to keep and treasure. 

A small-large family is more than enough reason to keep celebrating life.  

"You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."  Psalm 16:11 ESV 

Spot and Stop a Bully

Bullying as a form of childhood aggression is as old as the hills. However, with technology (the Net, social media, and smartphones), it has birthed a new, 24/7, fiercer version: 

Cyberbullying. Its reach and anonymity have increased in alarming numbers.  

According to the National Center for Education Statistics (US), every five (19.2%) students report being bullied. 

If you think that number is huge, let’s look at the Philippines’.  Over 40% of learners aged 13-17 report being bullied in a year.  An OECD (Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development) research found that twice as many students in the Philippines were bullied compared to the global average. 

In its 2022 report, 43% of girls and 53% of boys experienced bullying. Schools in Manila saw a 10% increase in bullying during the 2024/2025 academic year. 

The encouraging news is that the government (PNP, DSWD. DILG) and NGOs (Save the Children Philippines) have implemented programs in addressing the problem. Our very own Barangay has been conducting lectures among educators and parents on how to spot and stop bullies.   

One of the main reasons, as found in research, why kids bully is difficult home life (dysfunctional family environments, parental neglect, or exposure to conflict at home.)  

To believers in Biblical principles, God’s Words serve as core values in building a happy home—parents modeling Christ-like character for the children. 

That’s why in the “Happy Home” series, “Bully versus Bully” (published by Hiyas of OMFLit and illustrated by Leo Kempis Ang), a happy home life is demonstrated to help prevent bullying. 

Told in simple and lighthearted language, the book is about a happy and supportive home environment. By grace, it will help lower the risk of children becoming involved in bullying as perpetrators. 

 

“By wisdom a house is built, and by understanding it is established; by knowledge the rooms are filled with all precious and pleasant riches.” Proverbs 24:3-4 

Prayer Circle

In our Kakabsat (siblings) group chat, we crack jokes, upload memes, celebrate birthdays and other special events, make announcements, but best of all—as believers in the saving grace of Jesus—we unite in a prayer circle.

Circle then, in this sense, is not a shape. We are all miles away from each other, but  by coming together in prayer, we stay connected emotionally and spiritually. In a “circle,” my faith is strengthened, providing comfort in difficult times (the hardest of which was Tony’s exit from my everyday life). It also creates a shared sense of purpose, such as praying for healing.

What a blessing that in church, I am able to be in an actual prayer circle with faith sisters. Before or after our women’s Sunday School, which I have been facilitating for the past five years, we join hands and form a circle. After singing a worship song, we bow our heads in thanksgiving for the fount of grace that flows night and day in our individual and collective enclaves. 

"I  have decided to follow Jesus;no turning back . . ."

For me, a circle of praying believers is symbolic of unity and divine connection.  It creates a sacred, shared space for worship. A circle, with no beginning or end, also keeps us focused on God’s endless love.  

Creative Teaching

Today, more than ever, teachers need to be creative in the classroom to constantly engage our students. Our foe, called digital distraction, is too powerful and alluring. 

There are many seminars on how to teach creatively, but my writing hours always took precedence over any event. There was that one time, however. when a brief lull, just waiting for the galley proof of my book for final proofreading, allowed me to attend one online. 

My mind wandered and got lost. 

Our facilitator gave us links to ready-made educational games and fun quizzes. Technology, as I’ve often written about, is not my idea of creativity. I believed then as I do now, that creativity is the ability to generate new ideas, solve problems, or create something new using human imagination, emotion, and experience, independent of digital tools.

My friend Steph from Cebu was on the same page! She invited me to  facilitate a creative-teaching seminar among master’s students in a theological college. “Please share your Chongisms to help them write, as a tool for teaching creatively.  

My Chongisms have nothing to do with technology. I wrote them before AI became a trend.   

She unintentionally fanned my excitement with, “They are all church workers; some of them are pastors. During the event, half of the attendees will be onsite and the other half, online.” 

D-day (celebration of World Teachers’ Day) came and I shared with them how I write and how I engage my students through stories. “All lectures can be woven into relatable stories that teachers can write themselves—based on their experience or any interesting life snippet that drives home the lesson.” 

"In the process, with the Lord’s unending grace, teachers become creative writers and storytellers—more powerful than our digital-distraction foe." 

It is my prayer that one day, those stories to be written by these teachers will be published to benefit more students elsewhere.   

Aimless Malling

Up until January this year (2025), I was a mall rat and a shop habitue. I had been a willing victim of the word  “SALE.”  I’d be so proud and happy for having bought items at a huge discount, symptoms of an impulse shopper. 

Tony would indulge me. With a book, he’d wait for this wandering maller in a coffee shop or his favorite restaurant, where we would meet for lunch or snacks.  

One call from a friend, asking if I wanted to visit a new shop, was enough to get me scurrying to our meeting place. 

After we bade Tony goodbye, the mall said goodbye to me, too. I have turned down every invite from friends for lunch or coffee. What has happened to my insatiable desire for malling? 

“It’ll all come back; give it six months,” one of my BFFs comforted me.  

It’s been ten months, and I still have zero interest in visiting the mall.  

But I had to. 

Our house has been undergoing major repairs. The dust, construction debris like paint, wood, and concrete have caused terrible colds and cough that made me run to my doctor. While writing down his prescription, he warned me, “Stay away from irritants in the air like dust.”      

So I went to the mall to kill six hours. In days of old, that would be utopia. But this time, it was torture. I spent one hour just walking around, passing from store to store, another hour in a coffee shop, and another hour in a resto. My crossword puzzles helped solve the boredom.     

How I spent the rest of the hours was a blur. 

Aimless malling it was. On the bright side, I saved money from unplanned purchases and was chastised by these vases . . .  

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Matthew 6: 19-21 ESV)  

Oh, to be a Teacher Today!

World Teachers' Day was celebrated worldwide on 5 October. But since I only teach for two hours on Mondays, I wasn’t in school that day. Yet the students made up for it by giving me the same nutritious gift they gave all the others on the actual day. 

If you are a teacher, you must already know why there is such a day. To non-teachers, here’s a brief look-back: 

Established by UNESCO in 1994, it celebrates the anniversary of the October 5, 1966 adoption of the ILO/UNESCO recommendation concerning the status of teachers. This document set benchmarks for the rights, responsibilities, and working conditions of teachers globally.  

I have been a part-time college teacher, on and off, since I left the workplace in the year 2000. That’s how long I have been enjoying the grace of World Teachers’ Day year after year. 

I spent most of my time during the pandemic to write about teachers in my book “The Teacher in Me.” And looking back, I have made a teacher the main character in four out of 16 books in the “Oh, Mateo” series. 

I’ve also been tasked to help equip would-be teachers in church through seminars/workshops. That’s why I believe that teaching is one of the most noble professions, beginning with the example set by Jesus. 

Caveat. 

Reared in an era without technology, I break in cold sweat when it becomes a requirement in classrooms. To the rescue, an IT promptly comes, showing me how it’s done, which embarrasses me no end. Every Monday, he comes and I still don’t get it.

I suspect I am no longer in sync with my students. They are all techies (the very few who love books read them online), with a different mindset from my students through the years. 

Now they have tools for quick fixes (AI), requiring no critical thinking or painstaking review of good-writing principles. They are leery of a teacher’s stock knowledge gained from the school of hard knocks and experience.   

Could this be my last World Teachers’ Day?