A Son Returns

Like many parents in this age of diaspora, I do not have all my three sons in our native land.  The current era of global migration, accelerated by globalization, technology, and economic disparity, our children—upon age of reason—choose where they live to chase their dreams and plans.

Son #2, a physician, left for the US shortly after his wedding. There, he and his wife birthed a son: the love of my life and my late husband’s. They would come for a vacation every year, or Tony and I would fly out there for a vacation—perfect arrangements for family bonding.

But the pandemic re-arranged, or erased, all schedules.

When we rushed Tony to the hospital, where he was confined for 20 days, son #2 and family also rushed over, and had just enough time to say good-bye.

Recently son #2 and my daughter-in-love (minus my precious grandson who is now enrolled in a university) found a break from their busy schedules and visited us for five short days. The first order of the day was an early morning visit to Tony’s grave. 

It’s a bittersweet moment for a mother to see her son navigate his grief at his father's resting place for the first time. But one cannot escape the brutal blows of earthly living. 

It was not a visit of obligation, or religious commandment, or ancestor worship, but a personal act of remembering and processing of grief. For a few minutes, we allowed ourselves a silent space for prayer and comfort—while focusing on the new eternal life as a gift of generous grace. 

Spiritual Oasis

These horrid times, every day seems like traveling in a desert. The world is at war: major conflicts in the Middle East, Eastern Europe, and Africa. Fuel prices have risen too high, causing the economy to drop too low—a fact being gravely felt in the Philippines. We are in a state of desolation, trekking in a place of great undoing. 

But what comfort that our loving God provides his children with a spiritual Oasis—found in our church family every Wednesday (prayer worship), whichever day for our small groups (WIDER, it is called), and Sunday (worship service and ministry activities) in a shelter that celebrates its 50th year from October last year to October this year.

Of these 50 years, 48 has been the time span my family has made this church our haven. Desert storms notwithstanding, plus, if I were to take the desert metaphor further: dehydration from political heat, unpredictable temperature of country leaders, difficult terrain of the economy, and hazards from wildlife of unbelievers, we have stayed.  

Because through these years, we always find the Oasis for our spiritual renewal. It has running water of God’s Word, where we are cleaned, refreshed, prepared for a higher purpose, and where the lost are found again. 

Many members have come and gone because of diaspora, but we chose to stay. And we thank our Maker for making this 50-year-old church a spring, a watering hole, a retreat for us who have to walk through a desert every day.

Lest I be misunderstood, the Oasis is NOT the physical building, but the presence of Christ through the gathering of His people. It is where we are strengthened before trekking back to the desert.  

To believers like me, Jesus is the “living water” that satisfies the soul eternally to never thirst again.  As one body, our church family focuses on the Gospel and fellowship, pledging allegiance collectively and individually to the King. 

As we navigate a spiritual desert, our church clings to the Refuge from the brokenness of everyday life, because the Word of God, our core, is faithfully preached.

Like travelers, we stop to drink spiritual water and eat spiritual food together, enjoying fellowship while  soaking in Christ, our church's spiritual Oasis,   

Delighting Grace Interviews Grace (Part 2)

(Continued from last post. Delighting Grace is Del G and Grace Chong is GC . . .  

GC: Every single one of my books is close to my heart. My favorite is usually what I am currently writing, till the next one comes along. 

Del G:  You have other books that are not for children. But you are known for your children’s books. How do you want to be remembered as an author?

GC: I hope I am not typecast as a writer for only one genre. The readers of my books for adults are often surprised that I write children’s books. Likewise, the readers of my children’s books react the same way about my books for adults. 

My writing is not about me–it’s about giving honor to the Author of life, the Source of my ideas and words.  

Each book is written for a particular audience, not for being remembered as an author. I write about Christian values and God’s grace or I don’t write at all. And I pray that readers (adults or children) remember God’s message and appreciate the grace they received through the book. 

Del G: Does it give you a lot of pressure in writing when you receive an award for your work?

GC: Not pressure, no, but resolve to keep writing. 

Del G: How do we cultivate our love for children specially for us who want them to know the gospel?

GC: Matthew 19:14 (NASB) always enthralls me, “But Jesus said, ‘Let the children alone, and do not hinder them from coming to Me; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'” 

Our Lord and Savior loves children and to them His kingdom belongs! How can we ignore them, how can we not love them just as much? We need to let every child know this truth. 

Del G: Any advice to budding writers who want to try writing children’s book?

GC: Please read as many children’s books by other authors as you can. Immerse yourself in the world of children–study how they act, react, talk, walk, laugh, think, cry, play, or even throw temper tantrums.  In short, know your young reader inside out. And keep the child in you alive. 

Del G: Thank you for your time, Ms. Grace. 

GC: The privilege is all mine. 

A Grave, a Cradle, a Family

Like grace, joy can never be described accurately. One just knows he has it--not only in feeling but also in knowledge and in a deeply rooted faith in the Source of it all.

Baptism is when joy reigns! It is also a time when many believers shed copious tears all throughout the rite due to an overwhelming sense of joy in experiencing God's love and forgiveness. Rather than sadness, the tears mark a transformative moment of grace. 

Our church experienced this moving ceremony once again during our traditional family day: Maundy Thursday. Assisted by our elders and deacons, our pastor officiated this sacred passage in water, which represents both a grave—where shame, regret, and sin are permanently buried—and a cradle, where one  emerges as a new creation, no longer touched by the past.  

As the 20+ candidates for baptism were gently immersed in water and brought back up, our Pastor in a loud. clear voice intoned for all to hear,  “I now baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

Back-to-back gifts: joy and tears.   

When new life emerges, unburdened and washed clean, it is a time for celebration and thanksgiving. It’s a journey from grave to the cradle that will be nurtured by a church family who likewise left behind its brokenness, guilt, fear, bitterness to embrace a new identity anchored in unconditional love.

Our church’s annual family day joins together kindred souls—from varied status in life—to experience joy in singing, worshiping, playing games, eating, bantering, swimming, and praying as ONE in one place. 

Where Everything Begins

“Were do I begin?” This question is always asked in writing workshops attended by would-be authors.

As an author, I believe everything begins with thanksgiving: being grateful for the passion He has given us to write (or whatever you wish to be or do), surrendering this endeavor to God, aligning written words with Biblical principles, and seeking His guidance rather than relying solely on self-effort. 

This is where OMF, the publisher of most of my books, is coming from. This year, its first event (January 10)  was a Thanksgiving Fellowship with all those involved in Christian literature at OMF: Authors, artists, editors, translators, and office staff. 

It was an affair I couldn’t miss for the world, even if, at that time, I had an overstaying guest that I could not drive away. (This post is three months adrift.)

Long-time and new friends made the event memorable. The CEO reiterated OMF's commitment to spread the Gospel here in the Philippines (and in the world) through its publishing ministry. In my heart, I personally renewed this commitment, with the guidance of the Reason why I write. 

And lest I forget, note to self: Before typing the first word on the keyboard, thank the Author of Life for His enabling grace.  

”But grace was given to each one of us according to the measure of Christ's gift.” Ephesians 4:7 ESV

Holy Week: Humility Unmatched

How do we define humility?

No words or action by man can define it accurately. But Jesus vividly demonstrated it for us during what we now call Holy Week. This we need to replay in our hearts over and over again to make us remember the promise of eternity to those who believe.   

“These series of events were intentional, never random,” our pastor said in his sermon on Palm Sunday. 

They were all deliberate fulfillment of divine prophecy and God’s plan for human redemption. Jesus entered Jerusalem knowing his imminent death on the cross: a supreme sacrifice for sin.

Let’s briefly look back on the chronology of the week.  

Palm Sunday: Jesus entered Jerusalem not on a warhorse as a conquering king, but on a donkey, fulfilling prophecy as a gentle, humble King. 

Holy Monday: Jesus cleansed the temple by driving money changers and merchants away,

Holy Tuesday: Jesus taught in the temple, and faced the ire of and challenges of religious leaders. He gave the Olivet discourse, prediction of the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple.

Spy Wednesday: Judas Iscariot conspired with the chief priests to betray Jesus for 30 pieces of silver.

Maundy Thursday: Jesus shared the Passover meal with his disciples. He emphasized the breaking of bread and sharing the cup as a "remembrance" of his sacrifice. Maundy (meaning mandate, from the Latin word mandatum) was Jesus' new commandment (John 13:34). “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” Jesus, as Lord, performed the role of a servant by washing the feet of his disciples, including Judas who would betray him. What an amazing visual image of servant leadership! 

Good Friday: Jesus was tried before Pontius Pilate. The same crowd who cried "Hosanna, Hosanna!" on Palm Sunday cried “Crucify him, crucify him!” Jesus remained silent before his accusers, endured mockery, demonstrating absolute obedience. Then He prayed in  Gethsemane where He was arrested. He accepted the humiliating and painful death of crucifixion to save humanity. Jesus was mocked, stripped, given a crown of thorns, and whipped before carrying his cross to Golgotha, where he was crucified like a common criminal. Darkness covered the land for three hours (noon to 3 PM).

On the cross, Jesus said what we call “The seven Last Words.” Upon his death, the curtain in the Temple tore from top to bottom, an earthquake occurred, and rocks split.

Joseph of Arimathea, a follower of Jesus, requested for the body, wrapped it in linen, and placed it in a new tomb, which was sealed with a large stone and guarded by Roman soldiers. 

Holy Saturday. Jesus’ body rested in the tomb while his followers mourned.

Resurrection Sunday: Jesus rose from the dead, defeating death! Hallelujah! 

Why would the king of Kings go through all these for insignificant me? Because His grace is boundless.  

“Jesus endured profound anguish and torment beyond human endurance before his death. But our reaction should not be pity, but admiration,” our pastor stressed.

Let me add awe, amazement, and astonishment for His unmatched humility. All documented in the Book of books.  

Delighting Grace Interviews Grace (Part 1)

On July 15, 2014, I had a chat with Nitoy Gonzalez, owner/blogger of Delighting Grace (Del G). It’s been 11 years, but this post is as relevant today as it was then. So I am sharing with you an abridged version (I took the liberty of shortening it). 

Del G: I first saw Grace Chong (GC) in person in last year’s Manila International Book Fair and recently read her children’s books. They hit not just the heart of a child but those who are kids at heart. No wonder she received awards and recognition for her craft. But most importantly, she delivers God’s grace in her books.  In celebration of National Children’s Book Day, Del G brings you Ms. Grace as she talks about her books, crafting a good story, and many more:

Del G: Ms. Grace, what makes a good story kids will love? You do have a knack for kids.

GC: Any story that is within the realm of the kids’ experience and imagination, if presented in a unique, fresh, and fun way in their language, can be appreciated by the readers. 

Del G: How did you start writing books for children?

GC: My mother wrote in my Baby Book that I started writing stories when I was five.  Maybe as early as then I already had the passion to write stories. But I took my first-ever win in the Palanca Awards 1999 (The Boy Who Had five Lolas, first prize) as an affirmation of the new direction I wanted to take after leaving the workplace–to pursue my love for writing. 

Del G: Your children’s books are entertaining. How do you get inspirations for your stories? I’m impressed that some are really enjoyable and full of action.

GC: I can get inspired by everything, everyone, and anything that I see around me.  That may seem like a cop-out, but that is how it is. I am touched by every little act of kindness, or unkindness, and I see gems in mundane things. These I translate into stories that readers can identify with.     

Del G: One book or books worth mentioning is your Oh Mateo! series. Who is Mateo in your life? You gave him a series and I thought, hey, this boy must have a special place in Ms. Grace’s life?

GC: Mateo is the name of my dad, my brother (Mateo Jr.), and my nephew (Mateo III). When I created the character, I was looking for a Filipino name and I didn’t need to look far. In my family, I learned great life lessons from my dad, rib-tickling humor from my brother, and thrilling adventures from my nephew.  Each had been a rich resource of ideas for the series.  

Del G: Which among your books is nearest to your heart?

(To be continued: Part 2)  

Overstaying Guest

January 2026: I met a brute, a scumbag. I wouldn’t have survived but for the Word and the God Shot. 

On New Year's day, this guest came uninvited. It barged through the door without knocking. And it overstayed till the 20th. 

These are cryptic words from someone who blogs about grace in the simplest of terms.   

So let me name this unscheduled guest: grief. It is mysterious yet ubiquitous when it visits. It comes  unannounced, allowing for no preparation. It leaves you no time to lock the door. 

Perhaps because it was on New Year’s Day 2025 (last year) when we rushed the head of our home to the hospital due to breathing difficulty. We got stuck there till he bade us goodbye on the 20th day. 

In great detail, this rude guest replayed—sometimes in slomo—all that had happened from hour to hour, day to day. With a jarring alarm, it roused my five senses, making them more acute than they were at peak levels: the suffocating smell of alcohol and meds; the sterile sight of unsmiling people in white coats; the hurried sound of footsteps checking IV, blood pressure, pulse, breathing at all odd hours; the icy feel of the patient’s clammy hands and loose grip; and the bland taste of canteen food. Amidst the chaos, I'd hear the patient's calming voice, "Get some sleep; I am okay." 

In a way he was okay. His mind was as astute as ever, too astute to show courage, hide pain or any form of suffering from me and his sons--the only people he allowed to see him at his weakest. 

He was okay to shush nurses up so they won't disturb me while I was beating a deadline for my latest book. 

He was okay--to leave for his eternal home. 

Through 20 days this year, I was loathed to attend happy events, much more to write about them. 

Unlike grief, however, gracc is a constant. It resides in a believer’s heart. It flows; it floods; it flourishes; it fills; and it’s free. It only needs to be acknowledged and received. And the Word affirms it, making the unwanted guest unimportant and at some point, it slinks away.  

“It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” Deuteronomy 31:8

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” Psalm 46:1 ESV

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4: 

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28 

For 20 days, an uninvited guest came to stay; it made me seek grace, which pushed it astray. “He is where the joy is.” 

A Date with Eight X’s

The number 8 popped into my head when 8 of my dearest friends, peers from my past workplace (X of corporate name) made time to visit me at home.   

Eight is widely considered special, lucky, and powerful across various cultures, science, and music. Why? It’s a combination of its shape, cultural significance, unique properties in nature and logic. 

In Chinese culture, 8 is considered the luckiest number because it sounds similar to "fa" , which means to "make a fortune" or "prosper". It is highly favored for business, phone numbers, and addresses.

When turned on its side,  8 becomes the infinity symbol representing infinity. In music, an octave consists of 3ight notes. In marine life, an octopus has 8 legs and is known for its high intelligence.

Plus more. 

These are interesting stock knowledge, but 8 became extremely significant for me with the presence of my 8 X's just before Valentine’s Day and Chinese New Year. What a marvelous date!  

The invitation was actually extended to all (around 30) who attended our last X get-together. They endlessly teased me about having a party in my home, which was then undergoing renovation. For various reasons, only eight made it. Amazing eight. 

Laughter. Banter, Memories. Food. A prayer. Joy. Updates—maintenance pills, included. And a highlight: book signing by the illustrator and me, echoing magical moments of some years ago. 

These were documented in photos for when I grow feeble and forgetful.  

 

This verse always rings of grace: "A friend is always loyal, and a brother is born to help in time of need." Proverbs 17:17 NLT 

BFFs: From Daily to Rarely

Time is an arrow. 

Once you shoot it into the air, its trajectory is irreversible. It moves in one direction and never comes back. It momentarily stops at its peak, and then accelerates back toward Earth, because of the pull of gravity. 

Doesn’t time feel the same way? We can’t go back to the past. We need to keep going,  

I was reflecting on this when three of my dear friends and I got together again after a long time. All four of us met in the workplace eons ago, and although we worked in different units, we bumped into each other every single day: hallway, elevator, stairs, canteen, entrance, exit, parking lot, conference room, everywhere!  

Then came retirement—not at the same time; I took mine ahead. But today, after two decades,  retirement has evened out. 

That long-ago time when we were shot into the air, we had maximum speed and energy—young and driven. 

The arrow hit its highest and paused briefly; it descended toward the ground—at a slower speed this time. After leaving the workplace, things became slow—and in our case, rare.  

One rare day, however, we made it happen. 

And what a meet-up it was! The conversation was still as spirited and non-stop as 20+ years ago, but the topics have transitioned from shopping to napping, from high heels to maintenance pills, and . . .you know the drift. 

This has nothing to do with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s famous lines, “I shot an arrow into the air; it fell to earth I know not where.” Because we know exactly where our arrow fell.    

And when our fallen arrow will decay, I know that for all believers in grace, a spiritual arrow will shoot into the air again--this time, the trajectory is forever, never to waste away.   

“For our dying bodies must be transformed into bodies that will never die; our mortal bodies must be  transformed into immortal bodies." 1 Corinthians 15:53 NLT

A Review: My Beautiful Doll

Nothing delights me more than seeing a little girl blossom into a young lady, and who pursues her love of writing. What proof can be better than her first published book! It is my privilege to write a review in the hope that after this, the next book and the next will be forthcoming.

000 

Many years ago, a seven-year-old girl in line with other kids for a book signing event, was hanging on to my every word about writing books. As early as then, I knew it was just a matter of time before she became an author herself. She devoured books and loved the printed word.

Today, I am thrilled to have a signed copy of her first book!  

“My Beautiful Doll” by Ysabel Vitangcol  (illustrated by Richard Soledad) was launched at the Philippine Book Festival.  It is a courageous story about waning health that eventually leads to death. It is handled with deep empathy, demonstrated by the use of the colorful images of facial make-up, an allegory for beauty.  

The focus therefore is beauty: of close relationships, acceptance of life’s end on earth, and the reward of eternal life through faith in Jesus. Without being preachy and with great sensitivity, Ysabel writes about the beauty of the terrestrial body and eventually the heavenly body--all by grace. 

“My Beautiful Doll,” although about suffering and death, is light, refreshing, and uplifting.

000

Way to go, Ysabel! 

A Blog in the Shadows

Before the Ides of March, which unsettles me, I need to write about it now. That special event has to leave the shadows and step into the light.    

Although the Ides of March is no longer an ominous, dark day but a historical one, I still flinch when I remember how we dissected Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar in my MA class.  He was stabbed to death by 50-60 conspirators (Roman senators) in the Theatre of Pompey.  Twenty three stab wounds to stop Caesar’s growing power is petrifying even today. 

And so, before that fateful date comes . . ,   

During our Chit cub-clan reunion in December, my brothers broached the idea of commemorating Tony’s first death anniversary, Babang Luksa.  Yes, I thought, it would be another chance to bond!   

Son #3 looked up Babang Luksa: literally, it means lowering of mourning. It is a Filipino tradition practiced on the first death anniversary of a loved one, marking the end of the 12-month mourning period. It serves as a cultural milestone for families to achieve closure, honor the deceased, and transition back to normal life. 

Traditionally, immediate family members wear black for a full year after a death. Babang luksa marks the day they discard this mourning attire and can wear colorful clothes again, signaling that the grief period has passed.

Meeting in January on Tony’s death anniversary had nothing to do with all those.  

There is no specific period for mourning. It is unscheduled. That's why this blog is two months in arrears. 

    

Colorful clothes have no season.  

Grief has teeth; it demands to be acknowledged. 

And closure never comes. As soon as I uttered, "I'll move on." my sister Aie snapped in a strident voice. "There is no such thing as move on! Move on means you abandon something behind.” 

Commemorating Tony’s death anniversary was a thanksgiving for God’s gift of life. Ten people (23 more in spirit) worshipped together in a liturgical service. 

John 11: 25-26 (TEV) “Jesus said: ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me will live, even though they die; and those who live and believe in me will never die.’” 

1Thessalonians 4:14 “Lord, we believe. Help our unbelief. We believe that Jesus died and rose again; so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have died believing in him.”

2 Corinthians 5:1 “For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”

Romans 8:11, 35, 37, 39  “. . . If God is for us, who can be against us? Who, then, can separate us from the love of Christ? Can trouble do it, or hardships, or persecution, or hunger, or poverty, or danger, or death? No, in all these things we have complete victory through him who loved us! There is nothing in all creation that will ever be able to separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord.”

For AMEN, we tried hard, and failed harder, to sing the Lutkin’s Benediction with finesse.  

Food (Tony’s love language), prayers, photos and words of remembrance filled the rest of the day.

Listen with Your Heart (Part 3)

Months of combined magnified external sounds (courtesy of my cheap hearing aids) and the internal sounds of tinnitus was no longer fit for healthy living. 

It progressed from punishment to torture. So I decided to take action. Listening with my heart was no longer enough.  

I needed a good listening ear.  

  

Tinnitus has made my ear its permanent address. I’ve tried all means to evict it, but nada. 

People who are hearing impaired are missing out on the words of the world. Help can only come from a pair of hearing aids that costs a king’s ransom—enough to feed a hundred hungry children in one week. 

But missing one of the senses, like a diminished sense of hearing, can significantly affect the brain. My friend, Dr. Cely (Ph.D. in geriatric nursing) warned, “When aural input is reduced, the brain undergoes structural and functional changes, as it is designed to interpret sound, not just receive it. 

So I ran to my EENT who likewise warned me. “Get yourself a good pair of hearing aids soon or else . . .”  He wrote an order on his RX pad. 

Oh-oh. 

I rushed to the Hearing Aid Center that gave me another heating test. Same problem. “Say aloud the third word you hear.” 

You are nervous. “serious?” 

It is Thursday. “Tuesday?” 

I am leaving. “Beaming?” 

     

When shown the prices, I looked the other way, and said bravely, “When do I pay?” (I know all I had to do was ask my sons, but I was loathed to bother them. They have been giving me more than I deserve.) Instead, I dipped into my savings, emptied my walled, and premised myself, “No expenses unless it’s a matter of life and death.”   

“Ten percent deposit and full payment when you pick it up next week.” 

Next week . . .

When the audiologist put them in my ears, the same exact miracle happened again—that first time was when I received my first hearing aids from son #2 in 2016. 

The world came to life. I could hear words—words that I had mistakenly heard.  Dr. Cely was right. I began receiving the correct sounds and my brain started to interpret them anew.  

My brain yelled, “Hey, what happened? Here I was sleeping and now I am suddenly awake?!”  

GRACE. All caps.    

Listen with Your Heart (Part 2)

Several famous books have had sequels written many years, sometimes decades, after the original publication. One of them is “To Kill a Mockingbird” (1960) by Harper Lee. Its sequel, “Go Set a Watchman” was published in 2015, 55 years later. 

I’m in good company. Here’s Part 2 of a blog I wrote 10 years ago. 

Tinnitus (ringing inside the ear) has made my ear its permanent address. I’ve tried all means to evict it, but nada. 

People who are hearing impaired are missing out on the words of the world. But there is help—from a pair of hearing aids that costs a king’s ransom—enough to feed a hundred hungry children in one week. 

My resolve then, since this condition is non-life-threatening, was to shrug it off, especially after reading my late cousin Minna’s gracious comment on my blog, “It is amazing how, even with that tini-tinni 24/7 annoyance, you have managed to listen with your heart, cuz. Always.” 

I did manage for a while, but son #2, a doctor in the US, wouldn’t hear (punning not intended) of it. He knows well how tinnitus can saddle not only the ear but all other body sensations as well. So, as a Christmas gift, he made me pick a pair of hearing aids of my choice, ignoring the price tag.     

  

Suddenly, the old me resurrected. I got back to classroom teaching, facilitated workshops, accepted speaking engagements, could sit at the back row in faculty meetings, and heard every word of our pastor’s message.  

But, ugh, that was years ago. Anything on earth has a lifespan. My ear gizmos conked out during the pandemic. Fortunately, the earth then was quiet. I went back to listening with my heart. 

When the pandemic ended, sounds came back. Listening with one’s heart did not equate with quality of life.  

Are you still with me? This seems to be a saga. 

I bought a pair of cheap (90% less than the cost of my Christmas gift), advertised heavily on social media. It was guaranteed to magnify sound. But it was more of a punishment than a reward. Not good. So what to do?

(Next post, Part 3)    

He Is Where the Joy Is x 365

On day 59 of my Bible (Bible Recap ESV), my Christmas gift from son #1, I noticed that the last words of “The God Shot” is always:  

"The God Shot" is a daily segment, which is a quick overview highlighting a specific aspect of God’s character, actions, or heart revealed in that day’s reading. It spotlights God's attributes, such as His grace, sovereignty, mercy, or faithfulness, in every passage. 

So I turned all the pages of “The God Shot” until day 365, and yes, everything ends with the same words!  

Certainly, lasting joy is found solely in God's presence and relationship with Him, not in fleeting external circumstances. It means He is the source of all joy and that abiding in Him provides contentment and strength. 

Happiness based on happenings is temporary. After the euphoria wears off, happiness speeds away.  But joy is rooted in Christ, and it remains constant even through this US-Israel war on Iran today, escalating every minute, killing innocent lives, wrccking places, and causing fear all over the world. Yes, Joy remains constant even in the midst of grief, guilt, or suffering. 

As I experience day-in-day-out, being closer to God brings greater joy. This is affirmed in Psalm 16:11-

 God makes this joy available in any situation through faith and communion with Him. 

“He is where the joy is” encourages me to look for God’s character on every page of the Bible, every day, despite the grief that barges unscheduled and without knocking.

Man’s Contribution to Salvation

While reading my Bible and reflecting on salvation this morning, Jose Garcia Villa (a critic, artist, and National Artist of the Philippines for literature in 1973) jogged my memory. I particularly remembered his poem “The Emperor's New Sonnet.”

This is a famous experimental poem that alludes to the children’s storybook "The Emperor's New Clothes" by Hans Christian Andersen. It is a satire on the poor quality of Philippine poetry; it challenges readers' perceptions of literature. It was Villa’s way of forcing readers to question what makes a poem and to think critically beyond superficial appearances. 

If you are familiar with this storybook, then Villa’s intent is clear as day. 

The poem has a title, but the page is totally blank, zero words. It is to make the reader confront the void where text should be. 

In a deeper context, what is man’s contribution to salvation? 

"For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9 ESV

Rise and Shine

To someone who has attended all (except when I was in school abroad) our annual clan reunions to end and begin the year—the 81st just concluded—I’d describe each one as, “Same, same.” 

Same energy, same enthusiasm, same fun, same respect for our forebears—who started it all—and  same reverence for our common faith.  Only tiny details (theme, IDs, competition) change to cater to varying birth and age limitations.  

Those days when my battery was fast-charging, I’d be part of the planning process. Now low-bat,  I  have barely enough energy to bring old albums and files to the venue and let the young ones take over. 

As a tradition, the Chit (my mom) sub-clan (SC) would arrive in custom uniform t-shirts, which we change to a different one the next day and the next. In advertising, and in our sub-clan, we fiercely call that branding. Today, branding is unheard of. 

But not to the non-seniors in our SC. They are always concept-driven, hyped up to win the SC presentation contest. I guess competitiveness is in the genes. 

The concept: Rising Up (based on the reunion theme). What we do when we rise up every morning. Everyone in the SC was ordered to make a video of his rising up activities. 

The execution: (10 minutes) 

Part 1: Live intro. 

Night. zzzzzz

Morning. Rise and shine!  

Part 2: Video (with music and voice over) 

VO: “Routine. Typical. Every day. Waking up. Exercising. Cooking. Walking the dog. Doing regular things. Living one day on to the next one. And the next one. We often think that God only works when something extraordinary happens. But He's there, even in the everyday. 

VO: “Now on its 81st year, the Vergara Clan annual reunion might already seem ordinary or routine. Something we do every single year. But the fact that we are still here, together, shows that God is continuously working in our family. He is a constant presence in our everyday."  

VO: "God is with us in our rising up. In fact, He is whom we rise up for."

VO: “The Lord is here, with us, with His abounding grace and love. His mercies are new every morning. As we celebrate 81 years of being together, we look forward to the 82nd. And the next. And the next. We PASS IT ON."

That foreshadows the coming 82nd reunion theme, which our SC will host. 

The curtain call:  

The winner: 

Isaiah 60:1. "Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you."

What’s Great about the Great Pumpkin

Nothing is impossible in creative writing.  It can include facts that are colored, shaped, textured, and positioned differently to present a unique message. Words convey emotion through imagination and invention. 

Charles M. Schulz, inventor of the Peanuts comic strip, created a unique message in the “Great Pumpkin” character in 1959.  He meant it to be a sincere alternative to Santa Claus, inspired by the idea of a child getting his holidays mixed up and expecting presents on Halloween. 

My dad, although a lawyer, must have been a fan of Peanuts and a closet creative writer. He saw The Great Pumpkin as a symbol of faith and hope. In the comic strip, every Halloween, Linus* (Charlie Brown’s intelligent, security-blanket-carrying best friend) waits for the The Great Pumpkin for his gifts. But it does not appear. And so he waits again the next year, and the next, and the next. He never gives up, even if he is mocked. 

If that isn’t faith and hope, what is? 

It’s 2026, but I look back on many years ago when my dad gave son #1, JC, the Great Pumpkin book. He wrote: 

Deeply touched, I wrote about it in my “Gifts of Grace” (Book 2), published by OMF Literature in 2002. So why am I writing about it again 24 years later?  

My sister Aie’s library in the province was ravaged by a flood. But she had salvaged a few books, one of which is this:  

She gave it to JC as Christmas gift, stirring in me what I had written in Gifts of Grace. The old Great Pumpkin book (top two photos)—now with decayed pages and deckled edges—is one of JC's treasures.  

JC has long been grown up, dad has long been gone (soon I will be, too), that's why we now know too well what he meant by the Great Pumpkin. Many readers have interpreted it in different ways, but my dad’s definition remains in me: 

Amidst life’s lows, from then till now, sit sincerely in a pumpkin patch, wait, keep the faith, and escape the pit.  

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1 

ooo

*Linus acts as the philosopher, theologian, and "house intellectual" of the group. He is known for his wisdom, deep thoughts, and for often quoting the Gospels. He is the only character who believes in the "Great Pumpkin," whom he expects to rise from a "sincere" pumpkin patch every Halloween.

Discaya Moment?

Based on recent news and opinion pieces from late 2025, the word Discaya is primarily associated with a couple who owns multiple construction companies that have secured significant flood control contracts. The word has become synonymous with great wealth: 80 cars, 40 of which are luxury, among others.

Wow! 

In many friendly huddles, this has become a word for playful ribbing. Anything that elicits a “Wow!” is a Discaya moment.

I had such moments during our traditional Chit-sub-clan-one-day meet-up (my siblings and their families) before we all trek to our annual big clan. This year, there were only 10 of us (30%); the rest are abroad. Nonetheless, we tried to make the most of this rare time together in an Airbnb. The highlights were naturally food and kunol-kunol. 

During the gift exchange, the opening salvo was at once a Discaya moment. A gift from my brother Matt.  Wow! It was followed by another and another. Wow! Wow! Wow! Here's how a Discaya moment looks like: 

 The story ends there, because if I divulge details, I could be summoned to a Senate inquiry.  

All kiddding aside, just being with and receiving gifts from family (near or far)—whatever it may be—is more than a Discaya moment. It is a moment of grace.    

“Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity!” Psalm 133:1 (ESV) 

All set, clad in our first-day-clan-reunion uniform: purple (favorite color of late Mom/Lola), with her name "Visitacion" printed on it 

Walking with a Limp (2)

(continued from last blog post)

Sadly, my father passed away. Losing him was one of the most painful moments of my life. But instead of pushing me further into darkness, that loss awakened something in me. It made me search for God—not just for answers, but for meaning, peace, and truth. 

 

A few months later, someone invited me to church. I am very grateful to her, because that simple invitation became a turning point in my life. Through that act, God led me to a place where I could hear His Word, feel His presence, and begin to understand who Jesus really is. 

 

As I continued attending church, my heart slowly began to change. God used the messages, the worship, and the people around me to heal me. That was where I truly encountered Jesus Christ, accepted Him as my Lord and Savior, and began leaving my old life behind. 

 

Looking back, I can see that God was working even when I didn’t notice it. He used loss, pain, and a simple invitation to draw me to Himself. For that, I am deeply thankful—most of all to God, and also to the people He used as vessels to guide me back to Him. 

 

When I reflect on my journey, I am reminded of Jacob in the Bible, who later became Israel. Jacob encountered God at his lowest point—alone, afraid, and broken. He wrestled with God and walked away with a limp, but also with a new identity. In the same way, God met me in my brokenness. I may still have struggles, and I may still limp at times, but my identity has changed. I am no longer defined by my past.  

 

Today, I am still a work in progress. I still have struggles, but now I have hope. I still fall short at times, but I now know where to run—to Jesus. My life is no longer defined by alcohol, loss, or pain, but by God’s grace and faithfulness. 

 

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”  2 Corinthians 5:17 

 

(Turnaround indeed! Ryan was baptized—the rite proclaiming his personal and public identification with Jesus—in October, during our church’s 50th anniversary worship service.)   

Walking with a Limp (1)

In January 2026, our church’s theme was “A God of Turnarounds.” 

This was to remind us that turning around from the farthest plot to the nearest spot is impossible. But not with God.     

Our Pastor’s message narrated a graphic example: Jacob.  He was deceitful, manipulative, self-reliant, covetous, and scheming. In today’s language: badass. But during his 20-year exile in his uncle (later, father-in-law) Laban’s territory in Haran, he became the victim of every bad thing he ever did and was. 

Guided by God’s command, Jacob fled Haran to return to Canaan to reconcile with his brother Esau and build an altar at Bethel. 

On the way back to Canaan (Genesis 32), while Jacob was alone, an angel (God) initiated a raw, hand-to-hand fight with him. While God could have easily overcome Jacob, He allowed the struggle to continue, forcing Jacob to exert all his strength. Finally, to end the stalemate, the angel touched the socket of Jacob’s hip, dislocating the joint. 

This supernatural act demonstrates that God only needed to lightly touch the strongest part of Jacob’s body to break his strength and self-reliance. Crippled and in pain, Jacob stops fighting and desperately clings to his opponent. He  cries out, "I will not let you go unless you bless me". 

Total turnaround. 

From a cunning badass, to a broken seeker of God. The mysterious figure blesses him and renames him "Israel" (one who struggles with God). Jacob’ limp for the rest of his life is a permanent reminder of his total dependence on God. He would always walk in humility rather than arrogance. 

At this point in the riveting story of Jacob, Pastor Marvin called one of the members of our youth group, Ryan, to the pulpit. 

And Ryan shared a testimony that made us listen, sitting tight.   

Before I knew Jesus, my life was going in the wrong direction. I loved to drink, and I was often intoxicated. Over time, it became more than just a habit—it became my escape. I had no real faith, no clear purpose, and no peace. On the outside, I might have looked okay, but inside I felt empty and lost. 

 

In 2024, my life reached a breaking point. I was in the middle of a drinking session when I received the news that my father had suffered a stroke. I rushed him to the nearest hospital, and while we were in the emergency room, the doctor kept delivering bad news after bad news. Each update felt heavier than the last.    

(to be continued) 

Two Ezras

There are two precious Ezras in my life.

One, the Ezra in the Old Testament (OT), direct descendant of Aaron, who served as a priest, scribe, and reformer tasked by God with leading a remnant of Jewish exiles back to Jerusalem. He is called the "second Moses" for reviving the study and application of the first five books of the Bible (Torah) among the returned exiles—to rebuild the spiritual lives of the people. 

He led sinful people into repentance and his mission succeeded because he totally relied on God’s sovereignty.  The Book of Ezra strongly reminds us of God's faithfulness in fulfilling promises despite the cruel landscape of the times. 

Two, the Ezra in our church. Only 6 years old, she is pitch perfect, can sing gospel songs (even long ones) from memory. Singing at the altar, she leaves my eyes moist, contemplating the lyrics and seeing how she has been gifted with an extraordinary talent to proclaim His word.    

Adorable and affectionate, little Ezra never misses to hug me when we see each other in church, “Lola Grace!”

Then one Sunday, she gave me gifts: a unique desk calendar and a card that made me catch my throat. I know she meant them to be personal, but I am taking the liberty of sharing the card with blog friends to collectively nudge us that God uses both the learned and the innocent to shower His grace. 

The spiritual life that the first Ezra rebuilt is what is being taught to the second Ezra multiple generations later. God’s word is unchanging. 

"These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up". Deuteronomy 6:6-7:      

Angels at Our Doorstep

My Christmas blogs are still being written in January. Tomorrow, it will be February, and I am still at it. I may even step into March. 

There were tons of activities in December, prying me away from my keyboard.  But there is no rule on blogs being chronological, is there? 

Back to the Christmas season . . . 

Our church choir, no less, came a-caroling, singing not the usual traditional holiday songs, but specially arranged yuletide anthems. They came to bring good tidings, spread cheer, wish love, joy--all summed to a Merry Christmas. 

Right there on the street where they could be heard by our neighbors on all sides (our house is situated  at a corner of two streets). I could not let them in because our various whatchamacallits--furniture, books, equipment, and doodads, etc.--were still not in their proper places after our house renovation. A good thing, too, because not only did our household hear the voices of angels, but the whole block did! 

They wouldn’t accept any gift, not even a token. Instead they, led by our pastor, prayed for us, and  gave us a pack of fresh fruits. 

What grace to hear angels sing about the birth of our Savior right at our doorstep.