The Long, Long Saga

Longlong has been a long-time friend and used to be a peer in the workplace for many years. He was also the artist who rendered one of my books. 

His jokes never failed to make me LOL. But one of my favorites was when he would introduce his long, complicated name (I won’t mention it here for privacy) with his punchline, “Call me Longlong for short.” 

That was in my long list of ideas for a book. And one grace day, voila! It all came together. I made it my handle in a devotional for children today, whose lack of focus is a lament of many teachers. 

After the book was launched at the MIBF, I surprised him and his wife with a copy via courier. An excellent artist, Longlong sent me this. LOL.  

One of the questions I am often asked in my book talks is, “Where do you get your ideas?” 

My answer may seem like a cop-out, “Everywhere.” 

But, really, they’re all there, wherever you may be, “Look at the germ in non-moving and moving creation with eagle eyes, jot them down in a notebook or park them in your head.” 

To Longlong: a super loooong thank you.  

Read, yes! Understand, no?

That’s basically what many teachers in grade school say about their students. That’s also the result of a PSA (Philippine Statistics Authority) research among schoolchildren.  

Comprehension is the problem: no active engagement, no critical thinking, and no interpretation of whatever they are able to read. Sure, they could see and read words, but they cannot grasp their meaning, purpose, or implications.  

This alarming situation prompted one of our church members, Deo (a teacher), to draw up a Literacy Program in one underprivileged community with his wife, Yamie. They were immediately joined by other volunteers to lead 15 children into comprehending the words they read. The project became two-fold!   

While the children were being tutored in our church's classrooms, their parents were invited into a fellowship to meet the Lord. 

The results were amazing! Not only could the children begin to understand what they were reading, their parents started attending our Sunday worship and other church activities, including Sunday school!  

The culmination program came after the 6th week, when the organizers invited me to be the speaker. As I am wont to do during events such as this, I do not deliver a speech, I tell a story. 

I chose “The White Shoes,” a story about treasuring and thanking God for every blessing, big or small. Each kid received a copy as a graduation present.   

The success of this first Literacy Program has inspired the volunteers to make it a continuing project, as a part of our church's 50th anniversary celebration--one community at a time. The Lord's grace never ceases to open doors. 

 “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9 NIV    

May All Who Come Behind Us

That phrase is the chorus of the hymn "Find Us Faithful," written in 1987 by Jon Mohr, with music arranged by Steve Green. It’s pretty new for me, compared to the hymns written before the 1900s that I hum daily to keep me going. 

But it never fails to touch my core whenever we sing it in church.  It is based on Hebrews 12:1-2, “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,  looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Like Mohr, I pray that my life would serve as a faithful legacy for future generations to follow. 

Legacy . . . is something I think about often these days. And I am grateful that as part of our church’s 50th celebration, the next generation has decided on installing a LEGACY WALL: how the Lord used His people to plant His church in our then new village, and how faithfully He has guided all to make it fruitful through five decades.   

These photos document the unveiling of this wall, with the six remaining pioneers cutting the ribbon.  On both sides (far left and far right) are of the second generation, whose hands now hold the mantle of leadership. 

I have no doubt—the way the church has been alive and alert with younger members at the helm—that when the Lord takes the six remnants home, the next generations (bottom photo) will step up beyond 50 years.   

This LEGACY WALL serves as a nudge of grace. 

  

When Seniors Dance

That blog title should really be.”When Seniors Attempt, Strive, Try, Struggle, Venture, Undertake, and Exert Remaining Effort to Dance.” But that would be too long—as long as the hours it took to get every step right.  

Still, we didn’t get it right. Not even if we kept following the vocal instructions and physical movements of our non-senior choreographer (center). These photos speak the truth. 

But the applause after the dance number was deafening and as long as the what-should-have-been the blog title.  

It’s our church's golden anniversary. And we’d do anything to honor the God Who has been faithful for 50 years, His grace keeping us seniors strong and mobile to celebrate it. 

"Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you." Isaiaah 46:4 NIV   

Serves You Right: Schadenfreude

We have an expression in Filipino that gloats over another person’s misfortune, “Buti nga sa yo” (literal translation: serves you right). 

What happened to Mr. Ramon, a haughty, arrogant man, dramatizes this. He was rude to people below his status. He wore only designer clothes and shoes. His car: Mercedes Benz, no less. 

On his way to a client call one afternoon, his car rammed into another car. In his Armani suit, he got down and lamented his plight. His office mates, who were in a separate cab, saw Mr. Ramon’s predicament. Instead of helping him, they all laughed and exchanged high fives, “Buti nga sa yo.”

 

There is a German word that accurately describes the group’s attitude, Schadenfreude (meaning, damage-joy).  It captures that satisfied feeling we get when someone, who has repeatedly wronged or belittled us, runs into trouble.  

In 2 Corinthians 2:5-11 (NLT), Apostle Paul could have reacted with Schadenfreude when a member of the church, who had committed a grievous sin, was disciplined and punished by the church members. But his attitude baffled the people. He said that the man had already repented and that disciplining him was punishment enough. 

He encouraged them instead: “. . . it is time to forgive and comfort him. Otherwise he may be overcome by discouragement. So I urge you now to reaffirm your love for him . . . when you forgive this man, I forgive him, too. And when I forgive whatever needs to be forgiven, I do so with Christ’s authority for your benefit, so that Satan will not outsmart us. . . “  

Paul’s message to all followers of Jesus: we should not gloat over the misfortune of those who oppose us. In fact, in a message by Pastor Moe three Sundays ago, he encouraged us to do the opposite to the unlovable.  One of the many verses he quoted was Romans 12:14, "Bless those who persecute you. Don’t curse them; pray that God will bless them."  

The next verse can make any believer quiver: |If someone says, “I love God,” but hates a fellow believer,that person is a liar; for if we don’t love people we can see, how can we love God, whom we cannot see? (1 John 4:20)

Truth to tell, it is extremnely difficult not to revel in Schadenfreude. But it is our (those of us who have been born again and now living under the saving grace of Christ) mandate to keep trying . . . and trying.  

Queuing for a Signature and a Selfie

First, the good news.  

The huge, noisy crowd before the pandemic at the Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) is back! I could hardly navigate my way to the CSM booth where I launched my new book, a devoseries titled “Ready, Set, Focus!” I was pushed in so many directions by the excited throng of book enthusiasts. 

Second, the not-so-good news. 

The looooong queues for signature and selfie were toward celebrities (movie and TV stars) and authors of romance novels written in either Tagalog or Taglish. These demonstrate where reading in the Philippines is going. 

I am neither a celebrity nor an author of romance books, so I sign books for those who value reading about grace, which is where I am in writing for children and adults. 

On the other hand, this is good news, a very good news. As we called it in advertising: niche market. Readers queue for my books, not for me. This is a concrete reminder that writing about values is not about fame or fortune. 

I am grateful for the grace every stroke of a pen brings--writing a short message on the blessings that come with every book, every book fair--for every reader.  

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice"  Philippians 4:4  

Closet Voyage

Try opening one of your closets. (If you are a male reading this, I mean your wife’s closet.) What do you see?  

My aunt, a frugal Ilocana, advised me one day, “If you have not worn or used something for two years, you will never wear or use it again. So give it away to someone who needs it.”  She said that when she heard me gushing over a mall where all goods go on sale every quarter.  

Those were grace words I never took seriously till I left the corporate world and found myself at home more often than in malls that go on sale. And then came the pandemic, which changed my life thereafter! 

And so when I opened one closet one day, my vision suddenly cleared and beheld all the things I had not used/worn in two years.  

I opened another closet, and there they were! I pulled them out (not that easily; some I thought I could still wear after losing the weight I gained during the Covid-19 lockdowns) and donated them to our church’s rummage sale or to victims of calamity—whichever was more urgent at the moment.  

May I now invite you to go on a closet voyage (unless you’ve beaten me to the draw)? You’ll find “trash” that were once “treasures” and you’ll be surprised at how much/many you want to give away. 

Your closet will thank you for the extra breathing space. And you will understand, as I now do, what Paul meant when he enjoined the Philippians (chapter 4:11-12 NLT), “Not that I was ever in need, for I have learned how to be content with whatever I have. I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything . . .” 

To the men (including Tony beloved), here’s a gentle nudge. Ask yourself silently: How can I share with others and say bon voyage to what I have found in my wife’s closets?    

Note: This was written during the pandemic, when Tony was constantly teasing me about my bursting closets. But by fluke or absent-mindedness, this post was never uploaded. I am now going through the same closet voyage while our house is being repaired. Suddenly, I miss Tony's ribbing.   

Signing, Not Blogging

The Manila Internatonal Book Fair (MIBF) is in full swing. It's the third day, and if I don't go to the happiest place on earth, I will miss the books I had wanted to browse and buy. 

Most importantly, I need to see and touch my new book, "Ready,  Set, Go!" (published CSM and  illustrated by Urli Pagaduan) After my editor sent the last page of the manuscript months ago, I have been holding my breath, impatiently waiting to see and touch the actual book. 

Finally! Today, in a few hours, I will be at MIBF to hobnob with book afficionados and sign my books for readers. I already missed many of them. This photo was sent to me on Day1. 

I am looking forward to also meeting new friends and long-time buddies, whom I only chat with on social media. (Blogging will definitely come again soon.)  

Grace overload!   

Benefit of the Doubt

I used to hear this conversation (argument) between my sons and their father.  Whenever Tony gave street children food or treated them to snacks or meals, the debate ensued.  

“Papa, you are encouraging begging!” 

“I am not giving them money, I am simply feeding these poor, hungry children.” 

“But they’ll grow up thinking begging is the way to live. They will lose their drive to work hard for the things they need,” sons would stress. “Haven’t you read the government’s warning that these kids are controlled by syndicates?” 

“I give them the benefit of the doubt,” Tony would reply gently. To me he confided, "I simply love doing it." 

Giving someone the benefit of the doubt is to believe something good about him/her—rather than something bad, when you have the possibility of believing either. 

“You are being too kind!” sons would insist.   

Since Tony left us for home, these arguments are no more. And so I ask, is there such a thing as being too kind? 

1 Corinthians 13:4-8 (NLT) says, “Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.” 

How then can we know if our heart and acts of kindness are what God means in the above verses? 

We can go to Him in prayer and ask for His grace of discernment, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and lead me along the path of everlasting life.” (Psalm 139:23-24) 

God encourages us to be kind to one another, even enemies. 

“Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of evil behavior. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you.” (Ephesians 4:31-32) 

My Dad’s Tree

This lomboy (duhat in Filipino; Java Plum in English) tree standing tall at the corner of two roads in our village is 48 years old. It was planted by my late dad. Behind it is our home which is just as old.  

Dad, the original plantito--long before the term was invented--planted many kinds of trees in our yard immediately after we moved in. He and mom lived in the province, but he came to visit us to work the ground. Unfortunately, we had to cut the trees down when we had a house extension for three growing sons. 

The only tree left is the lomboy because it is farthest from the house and didn’t interfere with the construction.  

Every year, this tree generously bears fruits. Because it has grown so tall, Mother Teresa had painstakingly constructed a fruit picker made of a long wooden pole. During the tree's peak season, she would serve us and our neighbors a bowl of lomboy—washed, sprinkled with salt, and gently shaken in  a covered bowl for a few minutes until the lomboy softens and the salt enhances its natural sweetness. Yum! 

Caution: lomboy leaves your lips and tongue blue, as though you’re suffering from cyanosis or lack of oxygen.  

Forty eight years later, today, our aged house is being renovated because it is falling apart. All the plants in the garden have disappeared from sight because they’re hidden by heaps upon heaps of construction materials.  

But the lomboy tree? 

It is far too tall, far too strong, and far too far away to be affected by it all. It needs to be pruned now and then because its branches get in the way of  electric wires, but Dad’s tree has set its place in the sun. 

From our terrace, Tony and I would often talk about Lolo Mate's tree, how it stood the test of time. With Tony gone, I view it still, but without words. So I decided to outdo words this morning by clicking my camera and let the photo above speak for itself. 

Sarcasm

Sarcasm is a figure of speech defined as a sharp, bitter, or cutting expression; it is a taunt. They are words that mean the opposite of what they say, intended to humor or to hurt. 

It usually works when words are spoken, because they can be said with the proper voice inflection (derisive) and facial expression (dismissive).

 

When read, even if it is the opposite of the truth, it can be taken literally. However, if it is said orally with a sneer, then the sarcasm is clear. 

Sarcastic comments populate social media today. And they are often misunderstood.  If the reader does not know the writer’s political view, he could misinterpret it to mean the opposite. 

One such sarcasm was posted by a human rights advocate on socmed, “Let’s kill everyone who disagrees with the administration.” 

Immediately, he got responses like, “Now you’re talking!” “Finally you saw the light.” “Yes, the opposition should be massacred.”

She tried to explain, “Hey, I was being sarcastic. My words meant the opposite!” Too late, many thought otherwise. 

Huh?

We all know the damage words can do, yet we spew them carelessly in anger.  Someone said, “Words are stones, and we are nothing but stone throwers with each word we speak.” Words of beauty are grace, they are treasured, but words of pain are thrown away. 

Powerful words jump off the pages of the Bible. Let’s mine the book of Proverbs in choosing the right words to use:    

“With their words, the godless destroy their friends, but knowledge will rescue the righteous." (Proverbs 11:9 NLT)

“Gentle words are a tree of life; a deceitful tongue crushes the spirit.” (Proverbs 15:4) 

“Wise words satisfy like a good meal; the right words bring satisfaction.” (Proverbs 18:20)

Sarcasm. Must we use it? 

Photo credit 

Do-Gooders

Have you been duped by unscrupulous people because you were too trusting? 

Sallie was in the mall, and had just shopped for her upcoming travel to the US to visit her granddaughter. With several shopping bags, plus her own bulky purse, she had a hard time carrying them all. An angel-looking, well-dressed young man approached her and said politely, “Let me help you, Ma’am.” 

Oooh, a gentleman, Sallie thought. “Thank you. Yes, please help me carry these to my car over there.” 

And so the young man helped her stow her bags inside the car. Sallie rummaged through her purse for some change to give the young man as tip. When she looked up, he was gone. Now at home, she realized that she only had five bags instead of seven. She had been robbed! 

Remember the “tanim-bala” (planting a bullet in your bag) issue at the airport a few years back? Do-gooders with friendly smiles offered unsuspecting passengers help with their heavy luggage. Before these passengers could blink, the airport authorities found a bullet or two in their suitcases. Although innocent, the victims refused to go through the lengthy investigation that would delay their trip. So they paid the authorities grease money to let them go. 

Well-dressed do-gooders pounce on people anywhere. Beneath their innocent smiles lurks a dark intent. 

So as not to fall prey to these predators, and not be afraid of being conned or robbed unwittingly, let’s seek counsel from God’s Word. “Your word is a lamp to guide my feet and a light for my path.” (Psalm 119:105 NLT)

His protective grace ensures our safety.    

“. . . the Lord will deliver me from every evil attack and will bring me safely into his heavenly Kingdom . . .” (2 Timothy 4:18)  

Fewer and Fewer

Meet-ups with friends used to be frequent. We’d find all excuses to get together. But these days, they have become fewer and fewer.  

The pandemic is, I guess, the first culprit. It turned us into hermits for three long years. And so we lost our bearings. From there, age crept in with workplace retirement. 

Get-togethers have ceased to be spontaneous. They are now planned months in advance and then cancelled at the last minute.   

But there was this one time that miraculously pushed through to celebrate three birthdays from weeks before and weeks apart. My ading Ggie (sister from another womb) made it happen with some magic potions and gobbledegook. 

And so we met in a Chinese resto, five of us. The dim world we live in lit up. Then Ggie announced, “I invited someone but he gave me a nebulous answer. So I am not sure if he is coming.”

“Who???” 

He came! Like an apparition from the past, he handed me a funky birthday present, but not before showing us a photo in his phone, reminiscent of a teaser in an ad campaign. 

 

“Who???” No less than the well-loved-and-respected former big boss in the ad agency where we all met, “ABAJA!” 

The past became the present. Old jokes became new. Stale news became current. Seniors became juniors. The entree was laughter and dessert was more laughter. He was a birthday celebrator, too, if you include all other months of the year. The many years in between meet-ups vanished like the smoke on our birthday cake.    

Friendship does not end with time and space. Like grace, its beauty never fades and has no end.  

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11 

Home Sweet Home

Home is where the heart is. But when home is not what it used to be, where will the heart go? 

Our home is 48 years old. It has aged tremendously, not only because of years but more because of new-fangled discoveries that rushed in with unstoppable speed.  

When we moved to this our first (and last) home, son #2 was newly born. There was not even a landline phone. Son #3 was just an inspired thought. 

 

Now at age 48, home has been constantly sieged by the effects of global warming: environmental changes and therefore natural disasters like rains, floods, extreme heat; and the assault of technology—cellphones, cable TV, computers, air conditioners, Internet, and all their menu sides.  

How can the heart take it all?  

If the home needs to survive, it needs immediate surgery: its wires, gutters, eaves, ceiling, roofs, paint, walls, faucets, etc. are obsolete and therefore failing and falling apart. If not saved or replaced soon, zip. 

This has been home since June.

How long before the heart goes back to Home Sweet Home? 

The contractor said, ”Before Christmas.” 

At a time like this, I could almost hear Tony, who had always been cool and down-to-earth (my polar opposite), saying in his monotone without looking up from the book he'd been reading, “Patience is a virtue.” 

The Art of Grandparenting

Many articles have been written about this topic. I read a few when I learned that I was about to become one.  

But as soon as I held my grandson, Adrian, for the first time in my arms, the “art” principles flew out of the window. I was blessed with my own, and I immediately revised that title to “The Grace of Grandparenting.” 

Among all my roles in life, the most unique is being an Amah (lola).   

For one, I am older. And with age comes wisdom of experience. The strict rules imposed in parenthood to children have gone poof! This old saying is true to the letter:  

“Becoming a grandparent is like the dessert at the end of a hearty meal.” 

It is joy and relative lack of responsibility compared to parenting. When his parents left Adrian with us for a few days, they gave us rules that he should obey. Once they were gone, Tony and I allowed Adrian to do as he pleased. “In Angkong  and Amah’s house, you don’t violate any rules. We have no rules.” 

Indeed, grandparenting is a sweet reward, a chance to enjoy the fun and love of raising children minus the discipline.      

And since I am into book writing and advocating for love of reading, I loved reading a story to Adrian. According to the US National Institute of Education, reading aloud to children is the single most important activity leading to their love of reading. 

My heart tumbles whenever I chance upon social media photos such as these—a lola reading to her grandson.

"Crying children" is the 11th book in the Oh, Mateo! series of 16 books, published by Hiyas of OMF Lit and illustrated by Beth Parrocha)

Through a story in a book, the young ones and the young once build a close and lasting relationship. 

As children begin to look at books, listen to stories, talk and think about them, and ask questions, they’re on the road to becoming readers. Adrian, now 17 years old, is a bookworm like his late Angkong Tony and everyone in our small family. 

 

Lolos and lolas, reading a book to our grandchildren is a great way to relish the grace of  grandparenting.    

What the Fuss (2)

Too little time to take my maintenance pills, take off my shoes, put up my feet, close my blurry eyes, and put new batteries in my hearing aid . . . before we hied to Oriental Palace (a Chinese restaurant) for an authentic Chinese “lauriat” (derived from the Hokkien word "lao diat," meaning "special occasion"). It was one of Tony’s favorite haunts.     

Son #3, who volunteered to foot the bill promised, “Nothing fancy, just family.” 

Family—the Chit-Chat (our Group Chat nickname for our small clan on my mother’s side)—was there ahead of us. In a true Chinese tradition on birthday celebrations, everyone, including my two-year-old grand nephew, Atom, wore red. All told, there were 13 of us (the rest live abroad).

I was ecstatic to receive a surprise gift (left) sent by my grandson Adrian from the US. He knitted “Bahas” (Baboy/Ahas), a character he created when he was 10, and which he painted. The day before, his parents (son #2 and daughter-in-love) sent yummy belly lechon and other go-withs).

My ading Aie had a photo (right) of Tony and me (enlarged and framed) when he was officially welcomed as member of the V-Clan after our wedding. He introduced himself as the King of Siam, and me, his 32nd concubine. From that day forward, all 300+ members of our V-clan called him ading, manong, uncle, tito, or lolo. 

I was likewise deluged with wrapped gifts from everyone. 

Each dish was explained by son #3, but it was Tony’s voice I heard. “This is pricey because . . . this is rare because … this is made of . . . this is cooked with . . . etc.) 

How ironic that the only person in the clan, who was a true-blue Chinese, who spoke Hookien, who grew up on these dishes and therefore knew them like the palm of his hand, could not come and was profoundly missed. 

Through 12 courses, we chatted, joked around, reminisced non-stop about the years gone by. There are no-nos on occasions such as this: you don’t flip over a whole fish dish, you don’t do “sharon,” chats happen before the first dish is served, and you leave before or immediately after dessert. 

The fish was flipped over relentlessly, we had bags and bags of “sharon,” chatted before and long, long after dessert—nearing midnight.  

July 20, 2025 was a day of fussing, of overflowing and overwhelming grace. 

Psalm 90:10 (ESV)”The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away.” . . . to our eternal home where age and birthday celebrations are irrelevant.  

What the Fuss (1)

“No fuss!” I ordered my boys, knowing how people grandly celebrate an 80th birthday.   

They fussed anyway. My thought balloon, Don’t kids listen to their moms anymore? 

My other thought balloon replied, They are not kids anymore. Allow them to fuss over you for a change.

Because my birthday fell on a Sunday, I insisted, “I will spend for my own simple thanksgiving day. I will have a dirty-ice-cream cart for the kids. And I will serve lunch, on me, to those who stay for Sunday School.”

They said nothing. 

And so on my birthday, I had the dirty-ice-cream cart, which the kids (and non-kids) enjoyed, going back and forth umpteenth times for extra servings. 

The basic lunch was prepared by a faith sister, Aegan, whose kaldereta JR loves. 

Then the fussing began. Nikki, a niece from a dear friend’s womb, surprised me with an exquisite birthday cake, which invited raucous singing and, “Blow, blow, blow!” 

I requested son #3 to refrain everyone from delivering oral tributes (a tradition in grand parties), and just to give me a few minutes to speak with my heart: how Tony and I had always preferred living simply, nothing grandiose, opting to stay under the radar—pausing in silence to thank the Lord for blessing us with a day such as this. Pastor Marvin, our guest preacher, led the prayer of thanksgiving. 

I thought that would be it . . . (to be continued) 

Note self: 

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 ESV)

Mary Grace Strikes Again

Ranting and raving are not my thing. They sap every energy from mind, heart, and body.  And yet, I dove into them last year. 

It’s all about Mary Grace, the name that was being rammed down my throat by the municipal officials of the place of my birth. So I did all I could to have it changed, following the baton of my ading Dave who led the documentation of whatever is left of our parents’ properties. 

End of a nightmare. 

But the senior citizens’ league of our Barangay wants to see the PSA of my birth certificate if I am to receive the benefits of seasoned (euphemism for old) retirees. So I went, requested, and paid for PSA of my birth records. 

Lo and behold! It’s still Mary Grace?! 

Ranting and raving came back with a vengeance. So I berate my ading Dave on our group chat. Immediately, my ading Matt reply with laughing emojis. “Read,” he and Dave command. So I read again, and sure enough at the bottom of the document are these words. 

Let me repeat those words for my benefit: the child’s first name is hereby changed from “Mary Grace” to “Grace.” 

I crawled under my computer chair. How can a reading advocate (“Writing has a twin,” I stress in  my book talks: “Reading!) not read?! 

Rubbing salt into the wound, Dave writes, “Retired proofreader.” 

Where Truth Lies

Finally, the paperback version of Mitch Albom’s “The Little Liar,” published in 2023, reached our bookstores. I had waited for it for months. The hardbound was always there, but aside from its prohibitive cost  (think dollars to pesos!), I prefer paperbacks because I could hold them any which way, whether lying down or sitting up, and still be comfortable.  

As soon as I entered my favorite bookstore, the sales clerk’s face lit up and said, “It has arrived ma’am!” Because I am in that shop  too often, he thinks I am their in-house grandmother. 

The book, set during the Holocaust, interweaves truth and lies and more lies. It's another one of Albom's uplifting yet heartbreaking opuses. I couldn’t put it down, but halfway through the pages, work summons my attention and time. I have a seminar to facilitate, online classes  to handle, and Sunday school slides to do.  

And to complicate matters, the book of my dear friend, Yay, arrrives from the US, where it was published. This, too, can’t wait! 

Lookie! Even  our dog, Judge, is excited. 

Then my daily Bible reading can’t be ignored. 

These sum up to what I call overflowing grace. It's a perfect day! 

Am I a Teacher?

This time last year, I was assigned by the Discipleship Ministry Team of our home church to facilitate a seminar for Sunday school teachers. 

“Can you please do an encore?” the head asked. 

“You mean an echo,” I replied. I had to use the same materials, for the word of God does not change after a year—or for eternity. 

“Whatever,” he said. 

The participants this second time around are younger and new in teaching (only a handful are veterans). These youngsters are members of our vibrant youth group recruited to help with Sunday school and Vacation Bible School (VBS). Again, as I did last year, I asked “Am I a Teacher?” all through the reflective seminar.   

But surprise!  It was neither an encore nor an echo. 

The replies to my questions came from different perspectives and therefore, the flow was skewed in a different direction.  The examples and context of God’s Word evolved with cultural contexts and application. However, the core message on excellence remained constant—like the character of God Himself. 

As these young teachers grow in their faith, their understanding of the Word will mature along with them. 

Net-net, my ardent prayer is that they focus on Malachi 3:6, "I the Lord do not change," and Psalm 119:89, "Your word, LORD, is eternal; it stands firm in the heavens." 

And guess what. The following morning, Sunday, I was awarded by the president of our women’s group, Billie, a pot of beautiful orchids. They are a living proof of God’s generous grace for all, including old facilitators and young seminar attendees.  

State of Calamity

Heartbreaking. The town of Mateo (the hero in the Oh, Mateo! series of 16 books) is underwater again. This time, Umingan is suffering from a flood more horrifying than all the others in the past. Typhoon Crising wreaked havoc on the town that is now under state of calamity along with three other areas in the country. 

Nobody was in our ancestral home when this happened. My ading Aie is in the city for important errands. But many friends have been in touch, helping clean the house of filth. mud, and garbage. Hundreds of miles away, we are helpless. 

A Flood of Kindness (published by Hiyas and illustrated by Beth Parrocha), ends the Oh, Mateo series. But the story is told all over again.

 

Yes, again and again—during and after the flood has subsided—I wish that the Umingan townspeople (78,000 in population divided into 58 barangays  as of 2025) would come together to help each other and put back in order what the typhoon has messed up—this time, the worst ever. 

This book was meant to be a caricature of Umingan. But it appears to have foreshadowed what a community, any community, could do to stand up—much stronger—after a fall. Reading it again today, I feel it's a prayer for grace, for the Lord to enable people's hearts to be kind. .  

With the climate change and other problems (missing flood control budget; people’s mindless habit of throwing garbage into streams and rivers; cutting of trees for new buildings, etc.) floods will repeat and repeat till kingdom come. 

May these floods be redefined as an opportunity for kindness. 

"Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." Galatians 6:2:

An Astonishing Assignment

Moses was summoned from retirement at the age of 80. He had been living as a shepherd for half of those years when God appeared to him in a burning bush and called him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. 

What an assignment! After he had already escaped from his life in Egypt and had nothing to do with the Israelites anymore (?).  

Of course, he balked at first. He had a series of excuses, including concerns about his lack of eloquence. He even asked God to choose someone else. But you cannot say “no” when called to do work for the Lord. 

The Lord has not given me any new assignment as astonishing as Moses'. But why do I feel like a Moses? Well, as a facilitator of our Women’s Sunday School, which I take to heart, my writing about His grace, and teaching values to my students, I am sort of enjoying my “retirement” too.

But our only similarity lies in our length of stay on mother earth.

Should there be a new, astonishing assignment, I could no longer (much as I want to) echo prophet Isaiah who said, "Here I am, send me." He was in his late 20s or early 30s when he responded to God’s call, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?"

Isaiah's willingness to serve God by going where He was needed is an inspiring example of faith and obedience. 

Today, I look back and look up to these Bible heroes as I honor and thank the Lord who gifted me with life and opportunities to serve Him—not in the magnitude of Moses and Isaiah's, but in simple ways that I am able. These are the assignments I continue to focus on till I leave Mt. Nebo and meet my Maker in the Pomised Land.

"Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men . . .” Colossians  3:23  

Yummy dishes for an army were sent from Stockton by son#2 and family  

Moth Sightings Everywhere

Since this huge butterfly (which is actually a moth) parked itself on our terrace post, it never left. Or it seems that way. The next day it was flying around our house again. Then several days later, it came with look-alikes, members of the same family.  

As of today, one month later, they are still fluttering about. 

There goes the “theory” that moths or butterflies are our loved one’s way of coming back to visit. Suddenly, the internet is abuzz about the same giant moth species found in many urban areas and unlikely indoor spaces in Metro Manila: coffee shops, stores, malls, libraries, classrooms, corridors, etc.

This gigantic moth is called Lyssa zampa, the tropical swallowtail moth or Laos brown butterfly, of the family Uraniidae. “The species was first described by British entomologist Arthur Gardiner Butler in 1869. The species is native to a wide range of tropical South-East Asia: Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, and the Philippines.”

Why are these moths swarming all over Metro Manila and even neighboring provinces? These moths should be in forested and mountainous areas, their natural habitat. Let me summarize an article from RepublicAsia, June 2025: 

“Edriel Lee, a UP Biology graduate, cited a 2023 study by Jain, Ng, and Civasothi about the same occurrence in Singapore. According to the study, a dry spell—due to global warming—can lead to a boom in the population of insects. Their caterpillars therefore consume their host plants.  So the moths are forced to migrate and find another place that has their food source. 

“Unfortunately, their host plants from the genus Endospermum are not found in cities. Ergo,  these moths are not able to reproduce. Result: population decline. The animals that feed on them are in danger, too.' 

While we enjoy their presence everywhere, may we remember that the beauty, order, and provision  found in the natural world are God’s grace. And we, in whatever way, should help preserve and take care of them.  

What is Your Daily Read?

If you love to read, you won't let a day pass by without reading something (several sittings within 24 hours, in fact).

We’re on the same page. My daily reading fare: the newspaper (the printed one, not online), a new book, a book I had not finished reading or want to read again.  

While writing my blog and books, I refer to the Bible (various translations, but my favorite for now is ESV). Then while preparing the lesson for our women’s Sunday school, which I facilitate, I have to pore over the good Book.

I have varied translations before me in my work room, but I go online when time is no longer a luxury. 

Among all these reading noshes, my daily staple is what I receive every Christmas from son #1 since 2009 (16 years!). That year, he gave me a Chronological Bible (NLT), which I fell in love with because it made me understand both theological and historical facts. The chronological Bible came in six  successive years (different translations). 

When my ading Earl saw them, he gasped in awe. Immediately, I passed on one to him. Then ading Aie liked one so much I also gave her one. There is one missing; I must have given it to ading Dave or someone else.  

It is July, halfway through the pages, and I still have not blogged about this reading staple. The months before now have been a most diiffciult time. Even today, I can almost picture Tony reading in the terrace or going to the bank holding a book, like they were BFFs. 

After the chronological series, son #1 shifted to giving me a Bible arranged as we know it, but divided into 365 daily readings. 

I’ve always considered Charles Stanley of In Touch Ministries as one of my mentors on God’s Word. I will never have the opportunity to meet him in this life, but through his books and now with my Bible for 2025, I am rewarded with the richness of grace through his “life Lessons” daily. 

”For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Hebrews 4:12 ESV 

Apron

Wearing an apron is below my conscious mind. My close friends and family know this: I don’t (or can’t) cook. 

Once I dabbled in painting that required an apron. I didn’t wear one because I had none.

One day long ago, I was asked to have promotional photos for my book Secret Ingredient, which is about cooking. I had to borrow the apron from a friend.  

Many years later, just last week, I was awarded one in pink! 

If the organizers weren’t sincere and serious, I’d consider this a prank. They gifted me with an apron as my prize for being the oldest attendee at an event that gathered women from various churches in our area. The thing is, while this gesture is much appreciated, I no longer have the energy to develop interest in cooking. 

But I wore it just the same for a photo to record how a non-cook looks like with an apron on. If Tony were still around, I knew he’d immediately say, “Give it to Teresa.” 

  

And so I handed it over to Mother Teresa who jumped with joy when she touched it. She reminded me of myself when I am given a new book assignment by my publisher. 

Both instances demonstrate the fullness of grace.  

A Different July 4 at 55

While the US is grandly celebrating its Independence Day, I am quietly remembering, honoring, and thanking God for the life I shared with Tony on what would have been our 55th anniversary. 

We had always celebrated this day simply, without fanfare. Sometimes it was celebrated quietly, too quietly, because he or I forgot all about it.  

Our our 50th, which the world dubs as golden, passed by without drum rolls. 

Today's July 4 is the quietest of all. 

And this blog on any of our anniversaries is the shortest, but with the most hyperlinks. I had not realized I was actually writing about this date, reflecting on the grace God never scrimped on, but lavishly poured on us for all of our 54 years. 

For how could a partnership, blasted sporadically with storms and sunshine, last that long? 

“For as long as we both live,” we vowed before God on the 4th of July 55 years ago. By grace, this vow (more popularly used as "Till death do us part") had been like a steel, strong and unbreakable, till the Lord called Tony home on the 20th of January this year. 

”What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate.” Mark 10:9 ESV 

Letters to Myself

Have you ever written a letter to yourself? 

I have—too often in fact. As frequent as every four days, or less. That's the cadence that matches the time I need to forewarn or encourage myself in my faith walk. I write to me through my blogs posted on my cybersite.  

 

Unlike many bloggers who write for an audience, I write primarily for me. I talk to myself, no-holds-barred, and in so doing, I infringe upon the thoughts of others who are confronted with similar issues. They write back in private messages and they become comrades—faith brethren, who likewise forewarn or encourage themselves and me through snapshots of their experiences.   

This was precisely how it felt when I was writing the devotions for Grace@Work—all 365 of them—each in no more than 200 words that roughly translate to one-and a-half-minutes of reading time. Although most of these are faith stories of people who have stayed or drifted in and out of my life, these are also my stories, especially because I overstayed in the workplace—that battleground of stress, perks, egos, moral turpitude, and temptations that could slaughter or slay us if we are insufficiently armed with God's Word. 

I am sure all of us who believe in grace have been enormously blessed (we forget when hard times roll) with experiences we could share to arm others; and that we have been placed where we are for this purpose.  

ooo

The above is an excerpt from the Author’s Note in my book Grace@Work launched in 2014. 

I happened to read it again because I was sending a copy of the book to a new friend, Ptra. Caren Grace. I had to quickly scan the pages to remember what they're about. Yes, I don’t remember exactly the details of what I had written in any of my books, because when I am writing a new one, my whole attention is on the current work.  

I have recently completed a new book (printing stage), so I have time to look back and blog the short breather away. Meaning, write more letters to myself.