Weavers of Magic

National Literacy Month is observed every September in the Philippines. This aligns with International Literacy Day on September 8.

That was why I was invited by the University of the Philippines (UP) College of Education to talk about my picture books, focusing on selecting children's literature for the intermediate grades.

Would I consider sharing my experience as an author to students and teachers to commemorate Literacy Month? “Weavers of Magic,” they called the celebration.

“Yes!” I replied in two seconds. It would be a nostalgic trip after so many years.

UP was where I spent four years for my college degree. I call that era my ancient of days, when I was young, reckless, and furious.  

Except for new buildings, the campus has not changed much. The places where I used to run to be on time for classes, and the sunken garden which I crossed to go to the library---they are there.  Unfortunately, it rained intermitently; it was unwise to walk around.

I remembered how intense UP students could be (compared to the Gen Z’s and Gen Alphas I now encounter). Everyone listened with rapt attention, abandoned their phones, and asked incisive questions.

It is grace that enables me to be seen as a weaver of magic today. Looking back, I think my UP days wove magic into me. 

In the car on my way home, I sang the university hymn, UP Beloved (it is now sung in Filipino).  

U.P. beloved, thou Alma Mater dear

For thee united our joyful voices hear . . .

(Oops, the rest of the lyrics eludes me)

Rise and Sign!

D-day has arrived. I wake up early (I always wake up early) for my book signing date at the Manila International Book Fair. 

I feel a massive adrenaline rush while on the road. At the same time, spicy shivers attack my excitement because the rain buckets down (visibility zero) and driver Sammy inches our way to the venue.

But the happy spirit rises when the readers come in droves—asking questions, telling anecdotes, chatting about this and that, taking photos, and cracking jokes while I sign my books. 

And grace pours . . .

 . . . unleashing a deluge. 

If Happiness Had a Face

After the MIBF, I am definitely zonked! Time was when I would spend four whole days (from opening to closing hours) there and still feel zippy after. Not anymore. 

But while sorting out photos taken by people to whom I entrusted my camera, I found this.

Despite the rigor of speaking before hundreds of guests in seminar rooms, book signing, and traversing two huge floors jampacked with book lovers, I couldn't contain the joy at that happy place.  

Can Happy be Any Happier?

Like a kid in a candy store, I rush from booth to booth. There are just too many books at the MIBF! Joy never runs out in a place like this.  

What's keeping me bursting with zest today is my official book signing schedule. I have been doing so since day one of the MIBF, but those have been, as the OMF staff would say, "incidentals." So today is the day. If you happen to be near the area, please drop by for a chat. 

An hour after the book signing, Hiyas and OMF Lit will officially launch these new titles (plus 24 more) with the theme READEMPTION in a hall.  And then, tomorrow, my happy place will close--to open again next year.

Like a tic, I sing this old hymn (written by Julia H. Johnston in 1910) when joy overwhelms:

Grace, grace, God's grace,
grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
Grace, grace, God's grace,
grace that is greater than all our sin.

The Happy Place Opens Again!

Adrenaline has kicked in, and it will keep pumping up at the Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) as it continues to welcome book lovers everywhere. 

On the first day, I had an hour talk before educators and any advocate for picure books. The event was oragnized by the The National Book Development Board (NBDB), a Philippine government agency tasked with developing and promoting the country's book publishing industry

My topic centered around the role of picture books in developing empathy towards peace. My cup of tea! 

From day 1 of my writing journey, the trajectory has always been peace, through Christian values. All my 50 plus published picture books today focus on these values, each one showing how moral ethics (from the Book on grace that I read every day) can be lived through relatable characters illustrated in unique ways. 

Son #1 took pictures of the talk perhaps to document how his mother has kept her life busy even after leaving the corporate world. Talks in events such as this usually follow a published book. 

A lecture? Never. I speak about how and why I write and hopefully, the audience can have some meaningful take-away on how books on grace can help them guide the young teward the right path. 

As writers and illustrators love to instruct tthemselvs, "Show, don't tell!"  

From a select audience to the crowd at the OMF lit booth with the theme READEMPTION: 

To book worms, this is the happy place for happy days! 

New Books: READEMPTION

Redemption is powerfully told in the greatest book ever written: the BIBLE.

A non-theologian, I define it in the simplest of words: Believers’ past sins are completely wiped out, because the Savior paid the total penalty on the cross.

This is where my faith is anchored on, and which keeps me writing--to always remind myself of His sacrifice for insignificant me. Redemption (and soon, restoration when the Savior comes again) will hopefully be understood and believed by readers, one book at a time.

That's why joy stole my breath when I received this invitation from OMF Literature. 

READEMPTION was a gathering of everyone involved in the production of 25 new books for launching at the Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) from Sept 9-13, 2026. A Christian publishing house, OMF acknowledges that everything comes from the Savior and dedicating our work to Him means giving back all the glory that is never ours, but belongs only to Him.

Over snacks, each round table was given three topics to discuss and reflect on:

1. For authors: What are the Christian and Filipino values that your books redeem from today’s challenging world?

2. For illustrators, Editors, and Translators: Did the story inspire you to live out specific Christian or  Filipino values?

3. For OMF Lit: As a publisher, what are the new realizations that you had in producing this batch of books?  

READEMPTION is a beautiful cacography of redemption, the message we want our readers to understand, one book at a time. 

READEMPTION, OMF Literature and Hiyas's theme for the MIBF. is  a celebration of the Savior's grace.  

The CEO's moving talk revolved around OMF’s mission "to publish and distribute Christ-centered, biblically sound, and culturally relevant resources for the equipping and spiritual growth of Filipinos, all for the glory of God.”

The dedication of 25 books was not about us, but about the loving Redeemer who gave us all--talent, creativity, knowledge, wisdom, and so on and so fortth ad infinitum.  

Cut or Copy and Paste

People of my generation can scream all they want, but we are in this digital era (an alien!) where almost every information can be taken from the Net. It is now difficult to see who is thinking critically and who is copying intensely.  

My cohorts and I are wary about this phase in our world. But the younger ones have embraced it. I have not met any person below the age of 40 who has not done a "cut or copy and paste" for a research paper, speech, or just congratulatory message. It’s quick, convenient, and leaves the brain at rest. 

Yet it is a fact we can no longer ignore. I am no longer an exception either. 

Beyond curious about my blogs’ extremely high hits, I asked AI, “Tell me something about leavesofgrace.blogspost.com.”

I copied and pasted its reply, in toto—and gasped at the accurate data. 

These are more than eerie for this non-tech-savvy blogger.  

Working Birthday

“How would you like to celebrate your birthday?” son #3 asked me.

My quick reply, “By thanking God for His grace through my long years—and by treating the kids in church to dirty ice-cream [local nickname for sorbetes].”

He replied, “Okay.”

Then he added, “Why not invite the Dacs (my siblings and their families who are in the country) for an early dinner so we can work and finalize plans for the Clan Reunion.”

(We Dacs are hosting our 82nd annual Clan Reunion at the end of this old year and the beginning of the new one. It’s a job tattooed on our souls. Every nine years—there are nine siblings on my mother’s side—we toil. Every hour has to be planned to make the gathering meaningful for every attendee: from infants to octogenarians, now spanning six generations. We’re more than 400 living to date, but majority are abroad. So the meet-up each year gathers only over a hundred.  Still, the planning is a challenge because a clan covers all demographics.)

Being the eldest of the Dacs, per tradition, I should be chairman. But lethargy by wear and tear has set in, so I passed on the title to a nephew and a niece as co-chairs. Both smart, creative, and techies, they’ve actually been planning before being officially designated as leads.

Ribbing dominated the meeting, plus photo ops, masked as documentation. But our co-chair (the other was abroad at that time) got everything down pat.

Coincidentally, the theme they chose is “Pass it on.”

And oh, my dirty ice-cream birthday treat for kids went so well that even the youth, the middle-aged, and oldies crowded the sorbetero after the worship service.

Not only was it a working birthday, it was a simple celebration that worked well.  

The Green light of Writing

Q: “Throughout your writing career, what has been the most fulfilling part?”

This question follows me like a shadow wherever I am asked to speak about my now 26-year journey as an author since I left the workplace for good. It was an unsettling early retirement, but it finally gave me the chance to pivot to my first love: creative writing.  

After my first book was published, it has felt like I am on a road with a series of green lights. Non-stop. With writing comes book talks, where I am often asked that question.

My last book talk was with literature students in one university, where a magazine was a school requirement. They asked me that same question. 

 

A: "Feedback from readers," I replied. "Without it, I don’t know how a writer can keep driving." 

Feedback breaks the isolation of writing, validates creative effort, and proves that words resonate with others.

Knowing that my book, or a part of it, made someone laugh, cry, or think deeply shows that the intent landed. Encouraging words chase away an author’s fear that the book is pointless.

      

 Feedback redirects writing from a one-way lane to a two-way traffic that signals comings and goings, greetings and goodbyes, like human dialogue.     

Words of affirmation from readers are a green light, reminding me to never hit the brakes in writing.   

Turning 18 and Still Blogging

Dyslexic I am called by close circles. My doctor says, “Inattention.”

Sometimes I forget left from right in a huge mall; it takes 3 seconds for me to distinguish “push” from “pull;” and I say Dantu Date instead of his real name, Dante Datu. I wrongly put on my clothes backwards. Plus a hundred more. 

So I am qualified to say I turned 18 instead of 81, my age after my last birthday. It was celebrated in church with a surprise birthday cake from the women’s Sunday school, which I help facilitate.  

You are verrrrry oooold,” my youngest ading Dave says to my face. Then he sings the old hymn, “Nearer My God to Thee.”

And yet, at 81, I am still blogging like crazy. My pace has not slowed down—every three to four days, sometimes shorter.

Why?

My default reply, “Writing is my first love.” And now I add, “And my last,” after Tony said goodbye.  

Why do I write? “Why do I breathe,” I wrote in my blog profile.

But I am not old or odd.  

Morrie Markoff (an American) started blogging in his 100s until passing away at age 110 in June 2024. 

I started blogging, midst grace overflowing, in 2006, one year after I turned 60. My sons, knowing  how invested I am in writing, prodded me. 

It’s been 20 years. I will stop only at age_____, when the Lord says, “Time to come home.”

FGD: Inherited Corporate Gene

Research was a must before beginning any work on any idea in advertising. As head of the creative department, I had to attend or participate in qualitative research, one of which was Focus Group Discussion (FGD).

Roughly 12 or 15 people in a closed room with a two-way mirror answered the moderator's questions. Behind the mirror, I’d sit, watch, listen, and take down notes as the participants agreed or disagreed with each other, building ideas in a natural conversation. 

FGD explored feelings and thoughts. In the process, I got to know which direction to take creatively. 

I inherited this “gene” after I left the workplace. While writing a book, I conduct an FGD—the better to understand the reader.

My newest project is a book for Gen Z’s and Gen Alpha. I had read tons of research data about these generations, but I wanted to conduct an FGD to validate them.  

And so I did, among Christian youth.

My purpose was to find out if they still read; what types of literature interest them.

Alas, only a handful read outside of the Bible. The participants were raucous and uninhibited in a wonderful way. I found myself enjoying the fellowship more than the data.

But additional data I now have, and I understand them more than what research results have already revealed. And since the book I am writing is about grace (always!) for their generations, I think I may now have enough material to stand on.  

Christian youth are different from those who are not. While both groups share similar pressures and everyday experiences, Christian youth live by specific biblical guidelines because they believe in God, Jesus Christ as Savior, and absolute moral truths from the Bible.

This I believe. I hobnob with them at every church event and Sunday after Sunday.     

Presidential SONA: Bravo or Boo?

Every year, we listen to a presidential State of the Nation Address (SONA).  And every time, reviews run toward two opposite directions: Excellent or Mediocre. 

Photo credit: Presidential Commission Office 

For me, it is a combination of both.

Pro: it is the president’s constitutional duty to report on the country. He/she uses real economic data, employment figures, and completed infrastructure counts from government agencies. The SONA outlines actual bills, laws, and national budget priorities for the coming year. Journalists and groups use the speech to track government promises against actual performance.

Con: it is a political performance designed to highlight successes, gloss over failures, and polish the administration's image. The president spotlight favorable statistics while ignoring deep crises, persistent poverty, or controversial scandals. The speech frames minor progress as massive victories and recycle old unfulfilled promises to sound impressive.

In advertising, we called this objective and execution. The objective may be excellent, but the execution can miserably fail because of various reasons: greed, laziness, corruption, status-seeking, and indifference to what is good for others. That’s why the polished numbers do not match the daily economic struggles of ordinary citizens.

I am not a political scientist so I am not qualified to comment on the details of the political landscape on earth. 

But this reminds me of that SONA-like event in the Bible where the leader, Moses (Book of Deuteronomy) makes a speech before the new generation of Israelites on the plains of Moab just before they enter the Promised Land. Moses delivers God’s “SONA.” 

Through Moses, God . . .

    • reviews past performance. He looks back on the nation's journey, reminding them of His faithfulness, their parents' failures in the wilderness, and how they arrived at this moment.

    • restates the ten commandments and outlines the social, economic, and religious laws that will govern their daily lives.

    • lists the national blessings for obedience (prosperity, safety, good health) and the severe national curses for disobedience (famine, defeat, exile).

    • concludes with a call to action for the nation to choose life. 

    • renews His covenant with them—that even if they fail and get scattered, He will bring them back if they return to Him.

The Biblical SONA is beyond bravo or boo. It is the unchanging truth. No ifs, ands, buts, ors, maybes. 

Hidden Grace: Unnamed Women

About a hundred women of noble character are unnamed in the Bible. Why?

For one, old cultures recorded public histories through men. Women generally operated in domestic spheres, that’s why their names were not important unless they impacted political, social, and royal concerns.

But the main reason is for readers to focus on the story rather than the name. The message remains on God’s actions and interactions rather than the women’s biography. 

The stories of these unnamed women, whose faith and struggles are vital contributions to our salvation history, represent all strata of society—from the poorest of the poor to royalty

C.H. Spurgeon wrote that marginalized women are “powerful examples of hidden grace; God uses ordinary, unrecognized individuals to achieve His greatest spiritual victories.”

Indeed, the true power of the church often rests in its unknown, unnamed members rather than famous figures. Faith goes beyond social status.  Though anonymous, these women are fully seen, deeply valued, and intimately understood by Jesus.  

I marvel at these stories, which are our series of lessons in our women's Sunday school these months.  They are humbling. They teach us that no one should look down on the unknown. 

One story that has sat with me is found in Luke 21:1-4 ESV:

“Jesus looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the offering box, and he saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins. And he said, “Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them.  For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”

Often, we give from what we do not need. But the unnamed widow gave all her money to live on, more than all the others' combined!  

What does this mean? My net takeaways:  

    • Giving is measured by sacrifice, not amount. God looks at what the gift costs the giver, not the size of the contribution.

    • True giving comes from a heart of devotion, not a desire for public recognition.

    • No one is too poor, too young, or too insignificant to make a meaningful impact in God's eyes.

    • Percentage matters. The rich gave a small fraction of their wealth, while the widow gave 100% of her substance.  

What about tithing? To this unnamed widow, tithing is the bare minimum. She gave her all, as Jesus did three days later on the cross. He gave all of Himself--for us all.  

Unknown? To the world, yes. To God, these nameless women are deeply loved and fully known.     

Photo credits: An Army rising (top),Vecteezy (middle),, Shutterstock (bottom)

Still Fruitful

Two trees illustrate long, productive life in the Bible. 

One, the date palm: it can still bear fruit after 3,000 years. 

Two, the cedar of Lebanon: it remains to have unshakable strength and majesty at the same number of years (or longer if beside a stream). 

Psalm 92:12-14 (ESV) reads, “The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree, He shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. Those who are planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bear fruit in old age; they shall be fresh and flourishing…They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green."

“Retirement is not Biblical,” our pastor said.

Indeed. God promises that spiritual vitality and productivity do not have an expiration date; serving God is a lifelong calling, not a standard job. It is rooted in love and relationships, not  employment. We do not retire from them. As long as we have breath, our role shifts, but it does not end.   

I was tasked to expound on this truth among about 50 seniors during a gathering in our church. It was an eye-opener for me as well. 

The Lord assures us in our sunset years (despite the aches, pains, and dulled senses) that we can continue bearing fruit to honor Him.  I presented four how-tos that, I pray, grace will enable me to do myself:  

1. Deepen the Roots: Dedicating regular, unhurried time to scripture and prayer.

2. Mentor the Next Generation: sharing our hard-earned wisdom, faith stories, and life lessons with younger believers. 

3. Adjust our Service: focusing on spiritual work (listening, comforting, staying) due to physical limitations.

4. Guard our Heart: avoiding complaining, bickering, or longing for the good old days; cultivating a habit of gratitude.  

Still Fruitful. It’s living a life that continues to bless others for God's kingdom.   

Sistahs

How can two sisters, only two years apart, who grew up in the same house, be polar opposites?

This still puzzles me when my ading (younger sister) and I get together, now a rare phenomenon in this era of aching bones, wasting muscles, and fading eyesight. She lives 188 kilometers away, or four hours by car, six hours by bus, and—the way she actually does it—"nine hours by tricycle, buses, and modern jeep inclusive of waiting time!" 

I had written about this in one of my books (Gifts of Grace 1). But it seems like those pages are way too few. I missed to include that she loves the soil and I love the tiles. 

Why then can two opposite poles have marathon talks—now interrupted by some gadget scrolling—and intent walks in a book-sale shop?

Well, we are actually Siamese twins in the one area that counts: faith. Both deeply-invested in the redeeming grace of our one true King, Jesus. And that can take several volumes of matching tastes—in values, principles, moral code, standards, rules of conduct, and conscience. Here, we are on the same page. 

Sistah, we call each other in text messages. And sistahs we both are in the faith that keeps us alert, alive, enthusiastic in His service.   

Silent Saturday

A Long and Winding Road to 10K

When I turned 80, I did a happy dance while reading this:  

"Under the Expanded Centenarians Act, Filipinos aged 80 and above receive a one-time cash gift of ₱10,000 every five years upon reaching the milestone ages of 80, 85, 90, and 95. When they reach 100 years old, they receive a centennial cash gift of ₱100,000."

Easy peasy. Or so I thought.

First, the tedious application process at the Barangay Hall. Requirements: photos in all angles, birth certificate form the Philippine Statistics Authority, three government IDs, a long form to fill out.  It took a month of back-and-forth trips to different government offices.

Sam, son #3’s driver, was a blessing. But I worried about the hundreds of others who didn’t have a Sam. Those in wheelchairs with tired caregivers. Those with weak knees but had to ride tricycles and jeepneys.

Second, the long, silent waiting. “We’ll call you,” a clerk said. She did after two months  with more requirements, “You also need to submit . . .” 

Third, the urgent call one year later, just before my 81st birthday. “Come to the Barangay Hall tomorrow.” I was close to drooling. Finally! The queue was longer than the San Juanico bridge. I waited for an hour, only to be given a small piece of paper with my name on it and a table number. 

“Bring this to the gym tomorrow for the distribution of the 10k.”

Fourth, the 10K extravaganza.  The gym was dressed up to the max, like a venue for a grand miting de avance--complete audio-video equipment, wel-dressed usherettes, a stage with a backdrop, where the mayor spoke in a language that could rivet everyone, including street bystanders. To say it was patronizing is an understatement. It was to ferret out gratitude from the over 700 80-year-old-and-above audience. 

A singing duo, a dancing couple, a karaoke singer, etc. prolonged the waiting. Then, at last, after 2.45 hours of numb digits, aching back, and stiff neck, my decrepit hands held the precious 10K.

But hey, this is a blog on grace. It took a one-year-long-and-winding road, but it came. Still grateful.  

Guilty? The VP’s Impeachment Trial

On the first day of VP Sara's impeachment hearing, I sat rigidly in a chair and listened to every word.

When son #3, a lawyer, came home, I concluded, “She will be impeached.”

As though he was talking to a grade schooler, he replied, “Mom, ask two lawyers one question, and they will have two different answers.” 

That shut me up. I stopped listening to or reading about the proceedings after that. Comments and emojis on socmed mean nothing. 

Son #3 explained furher, "Although the Senate has the final say on whether to convict or acquit VP Sara during an impeachment trial, the Supreme Court (SC) has the final word on the legal validity of the process itself." 

Sigh.  

“The SC, as the ultimate interpreter of the Constitution, has the final authority to declare an impeachment complaint valid or invalid." 

I don’t count. You don’t count. We, who are non-members of the SC, don’t count.

That is justice on terra firma, the temporary world we live in.

Only in eternity, where God is the ultimate supreme Judge, can true justice exist.      

The Bible describes God’s perfect fairness in His defense of the oppressed and His ultimate judgment of sin. He promised to right every wrong.

Verses on justice in Scripture are many, but these will do for now:

Deuteronomy 32:4 (NIV): "The Rock, his work is perfect, for all his ways are justice. A faithful God and without iniquity, just and upright is he.

Psalm 103:6: "The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed."

Isaiah 30:18: "For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him."

So, will the VP be impeached?

May grace give us peace when the final verdict--wherever it goes--of the SC is announced. 

Take heart, true justice will come when the new earth and new heaven will be upon us. Soon, I pray.  

How Should We Celebrate Father’s Day?

My dad left us for his eternal home 44 years ago. The dad of my children bade us goodbye last year.

How then should Father’s Day be celebrated?

A song entitled You Are Strong, Dad is a tribute for the head of the home. The exact songwriter or composer is uncredited because it is an independent production for socmed, not written by a commercial music artist. The track is a copyright-free, specialized Christian worship and reflection music.

The lyrics are told from a child's POV, recognizing the silent sacrifices, quiet strength, and hard work of a father. It is a Father’s Day tribute, focusing on the subtle, everyday endurance of fatherhood. It is about aging, gratitude, and the shift in perspective when children grow old enough to appreciate the heavy burdens their dad carried for them in silence. 

This we witnessed in our church on Father’s Day. 

While all the fathers stood behind the pulpit, a seven-year-old girl sang the song. You could hear a pin drop and tears cascading freely over many cheeks in the pews. 

“Today may God bless your tired hands,

May heaven give you peace. 

For every quiet sacrifice,

You gave much to me.

You are strong, Dad,

I finally see it now.”

After the song, our chuch community prayed for the dads standing there, trying hard to be stoic and unemotional but visibly moved. 

Then I remembered the dads no longer with us but were just as strong.

And for me, that’s how Father’s Day should be celebrated: Paying tribute to the dads the Lord blessed each child with, and being grateful to our Father in heaven Who created earthly dads in His footsteps.

Top photo credit: PVGC Media Team

Broadcasting is in ICU

Broadcast television isn’t dying, but it is going through a massive transformation. Traditional radio and TV networks have evolved into digital-first, multi-platform media organizations.

While over-the-air audiences are shrinking, the strengths of broadcasting have shifted to streaming to capture viewers who have moved away from traditional media. Content is now distributed across podcasts (YouTube, TikTok, and mobile apps) to reach younger audiences.

A huge part of my workplace life was on broadcasting (advertising and radio hosting)—it was like my home, my comfort zone.

It’s because I had always been behind the scenes: voice-over, critic, writer, creative director. But when I became an author, it became necessary to face the camera in interviews and messages to readers. Those freak me out. My common excuse, “I am better at writing than speaking.”

But.

I got invited to DZAS, operated by the Far East Broadcasting Company (FEBC) Philippines, with the mission slogan: "Communicating Christ Until All Have Heard." It’s similar to the reason why I am an author—the Gospel should reach people and Christian writers need to help spread the Word till our last breath.  

I could not pass it up. It was a venue—with its wide reach of audiences—to talk about my books on grace and my writing ministry. I was asked about the W’s of my writing: what, why, when, where, who.  Although I tried not to show it, the jitters crept into every part of my anatomy.

The host and the production staff were so calming; the tour around the place were my sedatives.

Collection of old radios and a huge Bible, perfect for fading eyesight

Watching the taped interview again a few days later, I saw the numbers: 3.4K views.

Broadcasting in ICU is not a bad thing. There, patients receive round-the-clock care and life support to keep breathing—till the second coming. 

Time’s Rare Masterpiece

Schedule used to mean: routine.

Dress up for work. Kiss the three sons good-bye. Work. Overtime for a client meeting or an ad shoot. Go home. Ask the three kids how their day went. Late dinner or short catch-ups with the hubby. Sleep a little. Then wake up to the same routine.

Now schedule means the opposite: iffy.

It depends on Sammy’s (son #3's driver) free time. If none, I stay home and read and write and write. Or I fill up my empty jars with some tunes on the piano, some crossword puzzles, some arts and crafts, and some (okay, lots)  nibbles or munchies.  

Then came one day when son #3 was out of town. That freed up Sam for one whole day. Son #1 had online classes at home, so that freed up Mother Teresa from keeping watch and answering calls at home.

“Le’s go out and have fun!” I declared to the two angels who see to my now very few needs after Tony left. 

Off we went to the mall—to a coffee shop. With Gen Z’s around us, we indulged ourselves leisurely in caramel latte and pastries. I got lost in (but enjoyed) the conversation with two people whose interests are contrary to mine.

It was my and their first time to share a table and spend the afternoon without worrying about the clock ticking.  

In three hours, grace painted colors in different lines, hues, and shades. And time rendered a rare masterpiece.  

P.S. A coincidence: this happened on 6-26-26, a palindrome! 

Circumcised Heart

Once every three months or less, son #3 delivers the Sunday Message behind the pulpit, as requested by our pastor. A lawyer/professor, he is wont to first present the context of the core message. 

On that point, we are on the same page. Context is non-negotiable in creative writing. 

Context provides the background, setting, and relationship dynamics that remove ambiguity from words with multiple meanings.

But on one particular Sunday, son #3 was trying to look for a euphemism for circumcision, as it is a raw word that could unsettle the listeners in the Philippines.

After repeatedly voicing his unease about the word, I was surprised to read “Circumcised Heart” flashed in large fonts on all screens inside the church as the title of his message. 

"Circumcised heart" needs no euphemism. It is by itself a profound metaphor for spiritual transformation enabled by grace. It represents a heart that is cleansed, obedient, and fully devoted to God.

While physical circumcision was the outward, visible sign of the covenant among God’s chosen people in ancient times (context: law), the Bible (both in the Old and New Testaments) consistently emphasizes that God ultimately desires an internal reality—a heart set free from stubbornness and sin.

Romans 2:29 (NLT) reads, “No, a true Jew is one whose heart is right with God. And true circumcision is not merely obeying the letter of the law; rather, it is a change of heart produced by the Spirit. And a person with a changed heart seeks praise fom God, not from people.”

Self reflection: Do I have a circumcised heart? 

A Must: Vacation Bible School

If you grew up in a Christian family, you'd know what Vacation Bible School (VBS) is. It is a week-long education program hosted by local Christian churches for children during the summer vacation.

It is similar to a summer camp and a community outreach program designed to introduce children to the Bible and Christian values--through interactive, fun, and age-appropriate learning.

I never missed a VBS in the town where I grew up. That was where I learned about how much the Lord loves children like me. VBS is packed with grace. That’s why I get excited when summer comes and the VBS schedule is announced in our church. I am even happier to read about other churches also having theirs.

The VBS brings together not only the children who come to learn but volunteer teachers and donors, who provide assistance through services and allocations for expenses. This year, our church hosted almost 100 kids. 

I was humbled when I read about a VBS somewhere in Manila that used one of my books (The Real Thief, published by Hiyas of OMF Lit and illustrated by Leo Kempis Ang) as its resource in teaching the Gospel. 

 

The VBS concept originated in 1894 when Virginia Hawes, a Sunday school teacher, started a summer Bible school in New York City to keep local children occupied with spiritually enriching activities while on vacation.

By the 1920s, the program had evolved into a tradition with standardized publishing materials and structured curriculum kits supplied to various denominations across the world. Our materials this year came from CSM, which conducted a workshop among teachers prior to the execution of the short-term curriculum.

If you are reading this and you have a young child, bring him/her to tthe VBS. The learnings cannot be quantified. They will be lived. 

“ . . . ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.’”  Matthew 10:14 (NIV)  

Promises, Promises

"Promises" when repeated is an expression of disappointment. It implies that commitments are not kept. 

You and I might have promised one thing but did not fulfill it, or vice-versa. How often do we hear friends or ourselves say, “I’ll keep in touch.” But do they or do we?

“OPM” (Oh Promise Me) responds to someone who makes a promise but will not keep. We say it with matching eye roll. 

And then, there’s this saying, “Promises are made to be broken.” (Politics?)  

Sigh. We frequently make "throwaway," unkept promises. While we do not intentionally lie, casual promises are broken. Promises are cheaper than a cup of coffee today.    

In contrast, God’s thousands of promises in the Bible are nothing but casual. They are pricelss and many have already been kept. 

One example:

The promise: Genesis 12:3, to Abraham, “. . . all peoples on earth will be blessed through you,”

The Fulfillment: In the New Testament, this was not just about the physical nation of Israel, but about Jesus Christ as Abraham's descendant. In Acts 3:25–26 and Galatians 3:8, Paul explains that the "blessing" is the grace of salvation and the Holy Spirit, which is available to people of ALL nations through faith. 

Example two:

The Promise: Isaiah 53 (written roughly 700 years before Christ) describes a "Servant" who would be "pierced for our transgressions" and "crushed for our iniquities," bearing the sins of many so that they could be healed.

The Fulfillment: The Gospels and Epistles explicitly point to Jesus’ crucifixion as the fulfillment of this.  "He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross... by his wounds you have been healed." (1 Peter 2:24)This transformed the Old Testament system of animal sacrifice into a final, one-time fulfillment. 

Unfulfilled ones?! Believers in grace would rather call them just delayed. Not YET realized in this current world, but these promises will be fulfilled when He comes again. 

Revelation 21:2-3 says, “And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.’”

I’ve soaked in abundant joy in God’s many kept promises, but I choose to dwell in what is most relevant, after deciding to stop dying my hair: "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.” Isaiah 46:4 (ESV)  

What’s with Authors’ Huddle?

Huddle is a trend--used frequently these modern days to replace the word meeting. 

But it is an ancient word. It has been a part of the English language since the late 16th century. Then, it meant "to conceal" “to curl up” “to crouch.”  

Huddle is popular today because attention span has shrunk. Meeting requires time; it is often long and draining, tackling various agenda. Huddle implies a fast-paced get-together. In a campfire, huddle means gathering in a tight, close-packed group to stay warm, share stories, or cook. 

Meeting fatigue is disliked by the young, so organizers and managers have rebranded meeting to huddle to signify a short check-in with a collaborative and energized team rhythm.

No wonder my publisher, Hiyas of OMF Litt, now calls authors’ meeting as huddle.

Along with this change is a shift in my mindset. In a huddle today, 90% of the authors are young (not yet seniors). To lessen my age (or in an effort to belong), I cater to their attention span by speaking briefly. 

So when the facilitator asked each of us to introduce ourselves by 1) name, 2) book we had read in high school, 3) books we have written, I spoke for only 45 seconds, the length of a radio/TV ad. 

After saying my name, I said, “High school is no longer in my hard drive. There is no record of what I had read then. And I have been reading and writing for 25 years so I can’t play favorites and name some books I have read and written.”

They laughed. Ironically, the younger ones took longer to introduce themselves.

It was a huddle alright. Abbreviated chats. Packed lunch. Abridged Q&A. Warm hugs. Plus, what never happened in the early days of my writing: selfies. 

Time has turned the page, but grace keeps the ink. 

"You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed." Psalm 139:16 (NLT)

Chicago

“'Chicago,' my kind of town” is now light years away.

But every time I read or hear the word, I speed back 13,086 kilometers with my heart and mind, remembering vividly how grace changed my life in that place—my home for nearly five years.

In a recent get-together with old friends, one had on a baseball cap printed with Chicago. I borrowed it; immediately, it unlocked my gate of memories.

Chicago was where . . .

A. I met an arrogant and strict newspaper editor-in-chief, who was my first-ever boss. I was hired as one of his writers while taking up my Master’s degree. I had already written many articles before that so I thought writing for him was a cinch. Reading my first draft, he said, “Unfocused.” “Verbose.” Plus other adjectives that tamed my ego, fired up my anger, and improved my writing. I married him one year later—as soon as we got back to the Philippines.

B. Nobody is more important than the other. Equality was like a seal of contract. In any restaurant or any public place, one would find professionals and janitors dining there. If you asked, “What do you do?” The answer would come without hesitation, “I am a cook. “I am a clerk.” “I am a nurse.” “I am an actress on Broadway.” All said in a voice without shame or arrogance. 

C. The Lord said, “Enough!” He pulled me back into His care. Although I grew up in a Christian family, four years of college in UP lured me towards left-leaning ideologies espoused by intellectual friends who questioned the creation.  But in Chicago, three Filipino friends, all gentlemen of the first order, picked me up every Sunday to attend church (Baptist), their nourishing place. Before long, we had become a gospel singing group, invited by various churches and Filipino events. I found God again; I ran straight back to my faith, and never looked back. 

  

These have been the ABCs of my navigational tools in life. I found them (or they found me) in Chicago.