The GIFT of Seniors

Aging, the world is aging.

The percentage of people aged 65 and older is expected to double by 2050, reaching 2.1 billion. It's an irreversible global trend, according to The World Health Organization (WHO). 

This fact prompted Cely, a nursing professor and a nurse doctor, to organize GIFT (Growing in Fellowship Together with Jesus) to help us seniors in our church understand our aches and pains and be equipped with coping armors. 

Therefore, GIFT is not just an acronym; it is actually a much-appreciated gift. 

Once a month, we listen to God’s word through our Pastor; Cely gives helpful guides on how to take care of ourselves and what red flags to watch out for—including forward actions; our nurses check and record our vital signs. These are followed by exercise (dancing led by a youth leader) and one activity for the day (either embroidery, crochet, flower arrangement, etc.), capped by snacks.  

All these were shared with the community in October, our Missions month. The men’s group invited the barangay senior association and took care of logistics. From a modest number of 15, our number quadrupled.  

I was tasked to share the Word (our pastors are both young and the seniors might listen more to a fellow senior). 

With humility, I embraced the assignment. It was an opportunity to share the Gospel to the unreached—who came to us instead of us going to them. 

God’s Grace brought a horde to enter His church to hear His word and to be gifted with deeper knowledge of a blessed life stage called the golden years. 

Selfies and groufies were part of the game. 

It was a joyful GIFT to everyone who came. 

“We will do this again,” the president of the men’s group mused.    

(All photos borrowed from the PVGC FB page)

A Little Try and They fly

Every day, after having lunch, Tony and I park ourselves on the terrace. About this time, the birds, a flock of many birds, come and partake of Judge’s (our pet dog) meal. 

For month’s now, I have been dreaming to take a nice photo of them as proof to kith and kin that our house is bird-friendly. But whenever I pick up my phone, they fly away! 

Are birds camera shy? 

One day, as I waited for them to come, I had my camera ready, held in place by my arthritic fingers. The waiting rewarded my arms and fingers with painful cramps. 

Our driver, Sam, saw me and laughed, “Birds are super sensitive to sounds. When they hear even a very slight movement, they fly away!” 

I coudn't give up. The next few days I got a few shots of those who couldn’t fly away fast enough. A group shot of all (about three dozens, or more) would remain a dream.

So I did the next best thing. I took these photos to the computer and with some apps, I simulated their positions. Tada! 

Not as good as the real one and it does not capture their huge number but good enough. I love bird watching because they remind of God’s merciful grace: 

“Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them.” (Matthew 6:26 NKJV)

Someday, when these birds of creation stop coming, this photo will remind me of their daily visits to join Tony and me at our after-lunch parking lot. 

What’s the Big Deal with Haircuts?

Well, the boys in our family have theirs every three weeks. Many other friends say the same. It’s as commonplace as mowing the grass.  So what’s the big deal? 

For me, it was a BIG deal. For 20 years, I had the same hairdo, being trimmed by my hairdresser, Chat, every three weeks. I had to maintain the same look for photos in my books. In fact, I had compared myself to the Queen of England who had to keep the same hairdo, or the government would be changing those stamps and money as often as she changed her silhouette.   

But the pandemic barred me from going to the salon for three years, and during those times, my new books had to feature my old photos, which I thought was dishonest as I no longer look that way.

Anyway, the pandemic ended and finally, I had a haircut.

But the three years (ravaged by two Covid assaults), I self-reflected and decided not to be hung-up on consistent brand image (a habit I acquired from years in advertising). I opted for one that would hide my hearing aid and will not require me to wear earrings.  

See, advertising has changed big time, too. Look at those AI-generated-and-content-creator ads online. They maintain no template! The mass media of my generation is in ICU and has flatlined. 

BEFORE                                             AFTER 

With filters and editing apps available today, nobody really knows how one looks like in person just by seeing photos online, right?  I am not even sure if I look right (on the right). 

Chasing after Me

Psalm 23, KJV, has been in my memory since I was seven. The cadence and the Shepherd metaphor prod me to recite the whole chapter when someone mentions it. 

But it was only in church, while we were thinking of a theme for our church’s anniversary from Psalm 23, that this Bible chapter totally engulfed me—as though I had come upon something so rare and so precious. 

Psalm 23, verse 6 reads, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” 

Shall follow me? I mumbled, seeing with new eyes what that means. I flipped trough various Bible translations and stopped in my tracks when I read The Message. It uses a verb so concrete and so graphic: chase!  

I imagined people and myself—when problems strike—not simply walking but running away from the narrow road. And the Lord chases after us with his goodness and mercy.  

Grace. Faster than the speed of light.

October: Go! Where?

October was Missions Month of CAMACOP (The Christian and Missionary Alliance Churches of the Philippines). From the first Sunday to the last, our church was decked with these. 

This year's theme: “All of Jesus for All nations.” 

In our women’s Sunday school, we also focused on our role in missions for which CAMACOP exists: 

 

"To transform communities and to aggressively disciple the nations by engaging in holistic development ministries; and by planting churches that proclaim Jesus Christ as Savior, Sanctifier, Healer and Coming King."

Can we do that? Not everyone is equipped to go out to the community and other nations. 

But we can with PSALM.

P – Pray for missions, missionaries, the lost, and unreached people. Participate in the church’s missions events.  

S – Support those who can go out by giving to the church’s Mission fund. Sing aloud “Jesus Only,” our main message to the world, and to ourselves.  

   

A – Applaud those in the mission field. Appreciate them through letters, words, or any other form of love gift. 

L – Learn from missions-specific teaching and training in church. Listen to sermons about God’s heart for the nations, evangelism, and missions.

M – Meet a missionary and hear about his/her work to preach about salvation. Meditate on how God saves sinners.   

On the last Sunday of October—while many of us were donned in varied national costumes—we met a missionary, Pastor Lillian Pada. She limped on a cane to the pulpit, where she shared her experiences. We were inspired by her humility and her tenacity to serve God through flood and drought, sunshine and rain. 

Listening to her made me reflect on Apostle Paul’s suffering in the mission field: 

“I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from becoming proud.

"Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. 

"Each time he said, 'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' 

"So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. 

"That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”  2 Corinthians 12:7-10 (NLT):

Clickbait

“Klikbit,”our driver Sam said when he started vlogging about his chickens and roosters over two years ago. That was the first time I heard about clickbait. He was ruing his inability to write a clickbait to earn as much as his friends who are adept at doing so.

I never paid it any attention because I skip vlogs. 

Then I read my friend Lucy’s post on her wall: 

“Once upon a time, it was called a LIE. Nowadays, it’s called a CLICKBAIT. (And it’s OK, because that’s how it goes to get ahead?) She quotes the Bible:  “…and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone…”  Rev.21:8 (KJV) 

I sit up and scroll down my page. Clickbaits (headlines designed to lure readers into clicking a hyperlink especially when it leads to  something dubious or salacious) abound! 

“How could this have happened?” 

“It’s the first time the world will know . . .” 

“Why, this is impossible!”

“The biggest mistake you can make!” 

“This is the cutest thing ever!”

“Take this quiz and find out why . . .” 

The term clickbait,  a combination of "click" and "bait", was coined in 2006 by blogger Jay Geiger, and added to the Oxford English Dictionary in 2016. Clickbait drives page views and generates revenue for sites through advertisers.

Advertizers  . . Lucy and I were, once. We called those misleading headlines, “false advertising.” Penalties were huge. 

Today, there are new synonyms for digital lie: scam, fake news, toll farm, meme, deep fake, AI generated, etc. They're monetized. And no penalty! 

I ask Sam if he has learned to write clickbait. He replies in Filipino, “I am not a liar!” But, he smiles, “My vlog is earning because readers buy my chickens and roosters. I cannot breed them fast enough.”

Uh, oh, I hope he does not think of resigning.  

Clickbait/lie. That’s where we are today. Denver, another friend, summarized it thus,“We have not only hit rock bottom, we have breached Hades.” 

We need grace to lift us out of Hades.   

No Writing to Encourage Writing

Ironic isn’t it? I skipped writing so I could encourage others to write. For one whole day, I abstained from writing, with no time to even go near my computer. 

Elena, a dear friend and the wife of one of our former beloved pastors, invited me to speak on writing and storytelling for children in a workshop for  Christian Education Directors*. The venue was at a church in the boondocks (the term used by our family driver), Quezon City. It’s a one-hour drive from our home. But with “the horrible traffic,” he said, our travel could take two to three hours. 

Properly warned, I woke up early and off we went! 

There were about 50 people, from all parts of the country, inside the church. 

They were an enthusiastic, vocal, and active participants. They shared their thoughts and listened intently to the writing tips. I didn’t have to encourage them to write and tell stories to children. That’s what they do, with passion! 

All they needed was a slight push from someone who nags to keep the writing fervor aflame (it was a good time to give away my book, The Teacher in Me, as prizes), so that, through them, the children in church will continually learn about the greatest Teacher's ways. 

The hours given the workshop was “bitin,” (too short), according to some attendees. For me, that was an excellent evaluation of the event. It is how I define learning—unquenchable thirst. It reminds me of what I always stress in classrooms. “Never stop improving your written work. There is always that 5% missing to move it from good to great.” 

Working with fellow workers in the Lord’s service cannot be measured in terms of joy.  It is bottomless grace. 

Elena, her husband PastorPastor Joel, and moi 

"Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God." Colossians 3:16 ESV

It was my day of non-writing but just as fulfilling, if not more! 

*A Christian education director (DCE) is a church leader who plans, oversees, and assesses educational activities for a church congregation. 

Credits: All photos sent by Pastora Hope Carino. one of the drving forces of the event and the group   

What, Me worry?

This catchphrase was popular in my youth. It was first an advertisement for painless dentistry and later adapted as a motto said by a fictitious mascot named Alfred E. Newman of Mad, an American humor magazine. 

Newman’s gap-toothed smile, freckles, red hair, protruding ears, and scrawny body had been the cover art of the magazine for many issues. Created by American artist Norman Mingo, the character was first used in 1954.  

It resonated with the readers because worrying seemed to be a daily staple due to the many unsettling events like nuclear bomb, wars, and natural disasters. 

Five decades later . . . I read in Believe it or Not, which is beside the crossword puzzle that I solve (daily grace I receive early in the morning), “Cornell Unversty recently conducted a research on worrying and found that 85% of the things we worry about will never happen.”

Over an extended period of time, subjects of the study were observed, asked about the things they feared. Then the research delved into which imagined misfortune actually came true. Hah, a whopping 85% didn’t!  Worrying had been for naught. 

The Bible has assured us, thousands of years before this catchphrase came to be, that worrying can be replaced with peace. 

Worry not, indeed! 

Worst Kind of Selfishness

There are many kinds of selfishness in this world, but the most selfish is hoarding time. Why? Because none of us know how much time we have, and it is an affront to God to assume there will be more. 

This nugget of wisdom I learned from Mitch Albom’s latest book, Finding Chika. 

He didn’t want to have a child early in his marriage. But when he and his spouse finally decided they wanted one, it was too late. All medical remedies failed. 

In our women’s Sunday school, we study about and pray for those who put off repenting for their sins and accepting Christ as their Savior. They argue that He is a God of love, and will always forgive them when they finally decide to leave their old life, which they enjoy, and embrace His. 

Then bang! 

An earthquake or a tragedy strikes, snuffing their last breath, and the time they hoarded is suddenly useless. 

We can't be selfish and hoard what we don't own. By God's clock, our tomorrow may not even be another day.  

“But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God.” (Acts 20:24 ESV) 

What Has made Your Faith Stronger?

It may be a cop out to reply with a one-size-fits-all word, but that’s just the way it has always been.

What has made my faith stronger? Storms.

Before I go further, let me cite the Bible verse that reinforces my belief. “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Corinthians 12:9 NIV)

I “inherited” my faith from, first, my grandparents, and second, my parents. But it was not until I got married that I came into my own.

So this will sound like a litany of storms of severe intensities. 

The bliss I will leave out because, every storm that God calms, I deposit the joy of relief in my heart, earning interest every day—exponentially multiplying beyond counting.

When I was pregnant with son #1, I had just been accepted in a new writing job. It was a difficult pregnancy, but I managed not to be fired. Shortly after my delivery, I was so ill I thought I had heart problems. It turned out to be hyperthyroid that took ten years of expensive medical procedures for me to get back to my normal functions.

Son #2 was an even more difficult pregnancy. I had to be hospitalized, with no bathroom privileges, to save the baby. We lost him anyway. How does one grieve the passing of a baby?

Son #3 (whom Tony and I call son #2 today) came a year after. The pregnancy was even more difficult because I had constant panic attacks caused by the trauma of my second pregnancy.

In between those pregnancies, my dad was diagnosed with cancer and suffered for four years before he passed. I could not attend his funeral because by then, I was heavy with my youngest son. 

More storms: my only brother-in-law died of drug overdose, followed by my father-in-law. How does one comfort a grieving husband?

Meanwhile, I continued to be a busy working mom who had to leave her three sons to yayas. I had no time to tuck them in bed nor read them a story.

Tony, who headed his own successful advertising agency, was suddenly diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, with staggering hospital bills. That didn’t stop him from barking orders in his office. 

A few years later, he had a quadruple coronary bypass, an open heart surgery, but he and his business both survived. In succession, my mom, mom-in-law, and only sister-in-law passed one after the other. How does one grapple with untold grief?

Fast forward to 50 years later. Tony has retired as I have years before he did. We celebrated our golden wedding anniversary in quarantine due to the corona virus pandemic.

Despite my absence and lack of mothering all those early years, our sons turned out well. Son #1, an engineer and software designer, manages our business; son #2 is a physician in the US where he lives with his lovely wife and an adorable son; son #3 is a lawyer and is a Dean in a university.

How could I have survived all those storms?

Faith.

It got stronger with every severe onslaught on my sanity. Here I am today, writing books and books (almost 70 published to date) on God's grace that has sustained me through the 50 years barraged with foul weather—and boasting about it.

P.S.

I left out many more storms of the severe kind. Otherwise, this would be a novel and not a blog. 

50 Years and Beyond

One of the events that kept me spinning in September was our home church’s 49th anniversary celebration. As one of the very few members who can still remember (we were there) our early beginnings, I was tasked to write the church’s history.  

History is not exactly my favorite subject (it is Tony’s), so it took time before I could reconstruct the events, cited from past historical narratives, which I had also struggled with. 

But our media team, composed of young, hard-working techies, made it all come alive—with verve! I am summarizing that history in two photos, like I used to do in advertising: before and after. 

THEN and NOW

On the last Sunday of September, son #3,  one of our elders, delivered the message to cap our celebration. Was I surprised when he showed exactly the same photos in one of his slides. 

I begged him for his text, which I could not have written myself. 

“God has been so good and faithful to PVGC for 49 years. How will our Lord and Savior be working through us 50 years and beyond as we await His return?”

How indeed! Fifty years and beyond, the Lord will be working through the next generation and the next (many are still toddlers today)—all by His grace.  

  (Our Barangay Officials came to celebrate with us.) 

Same Difference

Tony and I describe our three sons as fiercely independent, with interests so different from each other. 

Son #1 is an engineer and a software designer—he heads our family business;  son #2 is a physician and lives abroad with his family; son #3 is a lawyer and a dean in a university. 

We had suggestions on what career path they should take when they entered college (five years apart), but they had their own minds and chose what they wanted anyway.  

Despite these apparent differences, however, they are essentially the same in things that matter: values. As the Bible defines them. 

This moral code we tried hard to model as they were growing up and that’s where all three, thank God, are the same. I am wont to discuss these values, but Tony always warns me against being preachy. 

Today is son #3’s birthday, and if he knew I am uploading his photos on the Net (all three plus Tony are camera averse and always prefer to be under the radar), he’ll throw a fit. But I am risking it.  

During the pandemic, he earned his SJD (Doctor of Juridical Science), magna cum laude. He attended the graduation ceremonies inside his bedroom. Wearing his cap and gown, he looked respectable from the waist up, but underneath, he was still our baby bunsoy (youngest child) in his shorts and slippers.  

What should we call you now, I asked proudly, “Doctor or Atty?” 

He deadpanned, “Call me as you’ve always called me.”   

Before then, he successfully defended his doctoral dissertation. This was the FB announcement of the head of the  School of Law. 

It is my prayer that on his and two older brothers’ career journey, all three will continue living the values taught by their Creator.    

“But he gives more grace. Therefore it says, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.” (James 4:6 ESV)

P.S.

Like Tony and me, they love books and food, the only two things—we told them early on—we would not scrimp on.   

What’s So Special About the Elderly?

Hurriedly dressing up for our monthly seniors’ fellowship in church, I heard my phone beep. Hiyas Publishing had uploaded two of my children’s books with the caption, “As we celebrate Filipino Elderly Week, Hiyas children's books can help kids understand and appreciate the elderly.” 

1) All Aboard with Five Lolas (illustrated by Beth Parrocha). It’s  about role reversal. A young boy takes care of his five lolas when they get sick on board a ship.

2) Dump Truck in My Heart (illustrated by Dumz Agsaway). With the help of her family, a little girl copes with grief over the loss of her beloved grandmother.

Elderly Filipino Week (EFW) is held this year from October 1-7 with the theme: "Senior Citizens—Building the Nation, Inspiring Generations," highlighting the vital role of the elderly in shaping our nation's past and future.

Big words, big job! 

At the risk of being late for our church’s event, I reviewed my book list and was I surprised to find more titles on the elderly. My thought balloon, They inspired my generation.  

3) The Growling Tummy (illustrated by Beth Parrocha). Honesty is defined when a famished boy disarms a grouchy hag by volunteering to clean her orchard--instead of joining his friends freely helping themselves to the fruits--in exchange for lunch.

4) The Magic of Apo Mayor (illustrated by Beth Parrocha). This is an allegory of God’s righteousness. An ancient, ubiquitous mayor appears and praises children when they do a good deed. 

5) Lumpia Lane (illustrated by C.R. Chua). Despite being sick, an old man joyfully passes on the family business to his granddaughter. 

6) Tree for All (illustrated by Beth Parrocha). A feisty, aged lady shows young children that she will do everything she could to stop people from cutting trees. 

7) The Boy Who Had five Lolas (illustrated by May Tobias-Papa). A farmer works for five, rich old ladies, whose land he tills. They dote on his young son and treat him like their own grandchild.   

What made me write them? Now an elderly myself . . .

8) They are Memories of Grace, the title of the book for adults that I worked on during the pandemic. 

9) My heart balked after I retired from the corporate world, What, Me Retire? This book re-tired me to continue working.   

What makes the elderly special? Isaiah 46:4 (ESV) reads . . .

“. . . even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save.”

Teachers Are Learners

Yesterday was Teacher’s Day. I wasn’t aware of it till I dropped by the school where I teach part time. A student gave me a box and said, “Happy Teacher’s Day!” 

Teaching takes only a smidgen of my time (compared to the hours I spend on writing). But being called a teacher is precious grace, like winning a Lifetime Achievement Award.  

I have always believed that being a teacher is more like being a learner. I have saved a lifetime worth of knowledge from preparing the lessons to understanding how young people would react to and absorb them every single class hour. 

Opening the gift at home, I was delighted to see a cup and packs of tea and coffee, to either keep me awake or make me sleep.  

At the same time, my publisher, CSM Publishing, uploaded this greetings for all teachers, citing a line from my book, Teacher in Me.*

Happy Teacher’s Day to everyone who teaches (mentor, trainer, adviser, facilitator, etc.) May our Lord Jesus, the Teacher in us, continue to guide all teachers in guiding those whom we teach.  

*It's the devotional used by Pastor Popoy when he leads the Friday devotions among the teachers in our church's school, ACTS (Alliance Christian School and Training Center). 

Wide Awake in September

About 20 years ago, the rock band Green Day released “Wake Me Up when September Ends,” a song that I used to hum when the calendar fell on this month. Written by the band's front man, Billie Joe Armstrong, the song is about the death of his father in September.  

I like the song not because September is likewise sad for me. On the contrary, it has always been a hectic and happy month! 

September 2024 was particularly super hectic and super happy that I never had the time to sit down and blog about all that happened almost simultaneously. 

Now that September has ended, I have time to snooze—meaning, I can write all I want about . . . 

•    A radio interview on “Blessed are the Peacemakers” 
•   The launching of my new book, Every Grace for Kids, at the International Book Fair (MIBF) 
•    Combing the MIBF for new book finds 
•    Our church’s 49th anniversary thanksgiving-celebration 
•    An “evangelism” talk before senior citizens of our village 
•    My sister Aie’s visit that allowed me the luxury of a massage, long chats, and feasts to celebrate  her birthday
•    A lunch with former peers to fete friendship 
•    Wrapping up my first-term teaching, saying goodbye to students and university staff   

Plus many more.  

September has ended but left more than enough grace to last me till the next September and the next.  

Fathering Chika

One of my greatest finds at the 2024 Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) is Mitch Albom’s latest book, Finding Chika. 

Only on the first page and I am already crying buckets. Don’t get me wrong; it is not a tearjerker. But as a writer myself, who often writes about adoption, everything  about the book resonates with me. 

I’d retitle it Fathering Chika, if I could. 

Albom of Michigan is an internationally renowned and best-selling author, journalist, screenwriter, playwright, radio and television broadcaster and musician. A non-father, he unconditionally loves, like his own, a kid of no blood relation, of a different race and country, and born under unknown circumstances. 

He writes, “Families are like pieces of art, they can be made from many materials. Sometimes they are from birth, sometimes they are melded, sometimes they are merely time and circumstances mixing together like scrambled eggs in a Michigan restaurant.” 

What grace it is to read a book such as this, specially these times when there are over 147 million orphans in the world, and love is being redefined or ignored.  

Shock and Awe

Before I could recover from the bliss of a magical surprise, I watched in shock and awe how people in my circuit moved somewhat eerily that morning. 

Tony wouldn’t join me for breakfast, our daily ritual. Son #3 woke up early and hurriedly walked to the gate a few times.  Mother Teresa was busy arranging everything neatly in the living room and flowers in vases at the terrace. 

Then as I sipped my coffee, I heard the doorbell ring and son #3’s voice, “What took you so long? She’s already having breakfast.” 

A throng of people carrying trays and trays of breakfast food came in noisily, and shouting, “Happy birthday!” 

I was in my house dress and slippers, with my hair uncombed. Here they all were and I had no chance to powder my nose. A most beautiful cake with my age on it was the centerpiece, a reminder of the years with which the Lord blessed me.

Grace, grace eveywhere! They sang a hymn after which they prayed for me.   

From the terrace to the garden for a photo op

Why would anyone fuss over an insignificant mortal like me on my birthday, when all through my long life I never did?  

Again, I am stunned. The fullness of joy cannot be defined. The photos speak, but they leave all those in my heart unheard.  

Who am I to deserve this? “...what is man that you are mindful of him, and the son of man that you care for him?” Psalm 8:4 (ESV) 

A Day Minus the Writing

This is one of those days when I am raring to write (as I always do) but can't because there is some speaking to do. Yes, every once in a while, I get invited to speak. And everything else gets fuzzy-wuzzy.  There is the audience to think about, the speech, the slides, plus other things that invite butterflies to invade the tummy. 

I am clinging on to this verse today: 2 Corinthians 9:8 (ESV) "And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work."

Tomorrow is another day . . .

A Magical Surprise

My birthday has come and gone. Two months have passed and I have not yet blogged about it. That is unusual for someone who blogs about anything and everything. 

What kept me? 

Words. 

I had no exact words to describe how I felt. Again, it is unusual for someone who has been working with words for over two decades. 

My Sunday school group, women of varying ages and persuasions in my home church, are my prayer warriors and spiritual family. I was tasked to prepare our lessons, put them in fancy slides, and we all discuss the facts behind them every Sunday after the Worship Serice.  The discussion is always alive  and we learn from each other. After an hour of exchanging thoughts and expertiences, we go home full, nourished with the Word. 

Then one Sunday, after our traditional wacky group shot to end the session, someone turned off the lights. Then one came in cradlling a birthday cake with my name on it. Two candles flickered in the dark. And everyone sang the Happy Birthday song.

It was magical—I was transported to a neverland where love swayed like birthday balloons above me, a place where 79 years worth of grace rained down at the same time.  

And now, two months later, no matter how hard I try, I can’t recall if I ever said “Thank you.”  

But then again, gratitude is not a sound, it is a silent song kept in the heart but heard like magic. These women and I share the same heartbeat: we begin and end our meetings with prayers of gratitude to the God we all serve.  

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” (James 1:17 ESV)     

No Writer’s Block, No Dead Air

“How do you deal with writer’s block?”  I was asked on air, during a live interview by the hosts of Straight from the Word on Light TV – God’s Channel of Blessings (Channel 33). 

It’s a question that pops up in all my book events.

Those who know me well (and kindred spirits whose passion is writing) know my predictable answer, “I don’t. I don’t believe in writer’s block.” 

“Huh?” is the usual response. 

Writing is not only when we have pen and paper on hand, or when we are poised to type on our keyboard. It is a constant mind-and-heart activity.  It happens in all our waking hours, often in our sleep, too. Ideas continuously buzz in our head and thump in our heart. So the paper does not stay blank or the keyboard does not stay idle once we decide to record those buzzes and thumps. 

“Oh, so no writer’s block! Exactly like no dead air,” Sis Sarah, the female host exclaimed. 

On point. I know how dead air can be deadly (long ago, I was a radio host, too). It could cause a listener to tune off and advertizers to tune out. 

I am grateful to Light TV for inviting me to talk about my thoughts on writing and for promoting my new book, Everyday Grace for Kids. Even if only one of the over 3k listeners had been encouraged to write for the Lord, it is grace beyond measure. I pray that many young people would join the ministry of writing for readers to meet our Savior.  

Everyday Grace for Kids

Meaningful days ahead for book lovers! The Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) will happen from Sept 11-15 at the SMX Convention Center. It is always a keenly awaited event for those who, like me, love to read. 

What makes it even more meaningful is that my book, Everyday Grace for Kids (365 Devotions on Drawing Closer to God) will be launched. I have braced myself for a long Saturday--from morn till night--for the “Meet and Greet” and book signing.  

As all authors know, book launching is a peak event we all look forward to, like a denouement in a stage play. All resolved! 

After many months of agonizing over words, punctuation marks, and other nitty-gritty of writing, then revising and revising (working in tandem with editors) and then final proofreading (again in close coordination with seasoned proofreaders), it’s here! 

A short backstory:

Kids today have more than they could handle, In my youth, there was no computer that brought about social media, vlogs, AI, and other apps. There was no mobile phone that spawned selfies, groufies, music apps, gambling apps, etc.  No online classes that cause boredom, disorientation, inattention, frustration over weak wi-fi connection, and disinterest.   

These children need grace every single day to cope with the complexities of modern life. They need to go back to their middle, the core values our Lord instituted since the beginning of time. 

Although I no longer have small children, I am concerned about the children of others. How can we help guide them to the right path?  Proverbs 22:6 (KJV) says, “Train up a child in the way he should go: And when he is old, he will not depart from it.” 

But parents are as busy as ever with various intricate issues. Yet they need to pass on the Word to their children. Daily devotionals can help in the training. Christian writers provide tools: we simplify, serve the Word into bite-size pieces that kids can understand, see in concrete images, and take to heart. 

Hence, this book. 

They Laugh and I Cry

Laughing emojis are strewn all over social media. 

Many posts make fun of people’s mistakes. Some dig into the private lives of celebrities. Some  ridicule public officials’ faux pax. Some cast aspersions on someone's misery, disguised as a joke.  Some hurl savage insults. Some judge without knowing the facts. Some praise abusive memes. 

And today! In major newspapers' front-page photos, the fugitive Alice Guo is shown laughing triumphantly in wacky poses, like a celebrity, with our authorities and NBI agents. These have gone viral on social media.   

And we reward these with laughing emojies?!  

I cry over what we have become. 

What is so funny? Why do we laugh over sad, depressing comments of and issues on how we view people and life. Is laughing over our misery the special menu for today?  

“Lessen the grief! Ignore the news and social media,” I keep reminding myself. 

“But I need to read my friends’ encouraging posts,” I reply to me. 

 
So I scroll through those hundreds, sometmes thousands, of laughing emojis. 

And I cry, and click on this emoji--a sore thumb in a sea of laughter. 

By grace, the Lord makes me remember the beginning of time. This was once a perfect place. But our first parents upended it big time. And now we are all messed up: happy over what is sad. 

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness,
who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter! (Isaiah 5:20 ESV) 

Turning 50

Randy threw a big party for his wife, Salve, when she turned 50. “A golden Age has to be celebrated,” he told the guests.  

During the party, Salve candidly told some of her guests, “When Randy planned to celebrate my 50th birthday, it was like a wake-up call. I suddenly had a change of mindset; I used to think that people in their 50s were old. But here I am, feeling as young as ever!” 

“I am 60,” Ciony replied, “and I know that if the Lord would give me more years, I can still do something important.”  

That set everyone counting the number of productive years they might have left. Salve said, “I have 20 more years!” 

“Or even 30,” Ciony said. Then she quoted a Bible verse, “Seventy years are given to us! Some even live to eighty.” (Psalm 90:10 NLT) 

“We are all still young, then,” Salve said.  

In the book of Philemon, Paul, who was already of advanced age, wrote a letter requesting Philemon to take back his runaway servant, Onesimus. “. . . I am boldly asking a favor of you. I could demand it in the name of Christ because it is the right thing for you to do. But because of our love, I prefer simply to ask you. Consider this as a request from me—Paul, an old man and now also a prisoner for the sake of Christ Jesus.” 

This was Paul’s attitude about serving the Lord even at an old age.  

Age 50 and beyond? 

Despite our limitations, grace is unlimited. It enables us to do what we can—no matter how small—for the Lord until He calls us Home.

Pain of Childbirth

In our forbears’ time, epidurals (medication for pain relief) were unheard of. 

Our mothers delivered their babies the natural way. My mother would advise would-be moms,  “Choose to give birth the natural way. It’s a beautiful experience.” She had no other words to describe it, but “beautiful experience” remained in my mind. 

For my first childbirth, I ignored my mom’s advice because I was too anxious. My obstetrician (OB) found it necessary to give me epidurals. 

My second pregnancy, however, was a different story. It was extremely delicate and pain-filled. On my 6th month, my OB advised hospital confinement to save the baby. But after two weeks, I went into labor and the pain worsened. In the delivery room, my OB was apologetic. “I can’t give you any medication to lessen the pain. To save your baby, we want him breathing normally.” 

Immediately after I birthed my son, the pain miraculously disappeared and all I could feel was peace, as though my squirming-in-pain self was gone forever. My mother was right all along, it was like basking in grace, a beautiful experience. 

Jesus used childbirth to describe physical pain—and the joy that follows it. 

Before he went to the cross, He told His disciples about a time of great pain and sorrow, “You will be like a woman suffering the pains of labor. When her child is born, her anguish gives way to joy because she has brought a new baby into the world. So you have sorrow now, but I will see you again; then you will rejoice, and no one can rob you of that joy.” (John 16:21-22 NLT

 

After pain comes joy. That is the essence of earthly pain and the heavenly joy that comes with life everlasting.