The Summer in Our Hearts

(Yesterday, we awaited—with fear—the killer typhoon, Reming, to batter the billboards and such. It didn't. It veered away from Manila, but we prayed for those whose paths she crossed instead. The whole day was nevertheless somber, the skies were gray and the sun was nowhere in sight. But sunshine, especially with the family, is always in the heart. My sons JC, JR, and niece Teena took the chance to go malling and feasted on vegetarian pizza. The day reminded me of another time, which I wrote about in an e-column sometime ago.)

Now that the weather has changed from sunny to rainy—stormy even—I pine for that wonderful place with the sun, moon and stars for its chandelier; the wind for its air conditioner; and the sand for its carpet. It was built for us by the Creator so we may use it to help build our family life: the beach.

Heaven on earth is how many people describe it. They may be right. I love everything about it. Well, except for my ghastly tan. (It's a genetic condition, my sons insist, so I musn't blame it on the beach.)

But no matter how wonderful, the beach can't be everything to everyone. Not for errant boys—"You're grounded. Go to the beach and stay there!" Or, "Young man, we need to talk. Come to the beach at once!"

It's not a place for sulking; it's a place for feeling good. In the summer, we take our family there so our children can romp freely. No wonder they grow up preferring beaches over school.

For all of life's rainfalls and storms, God has provided our hearts with a built-in beach where we can bask in the sunshine of His grace.

Take that one rare day my eldest son, JC, and I had a leisurely chat. I say rare because my three children are boys and boys don't talk except when I pick up the phone. They holler from somewhere, "Mom, I'm on the line!" Or when I zap the TV to Hallmark. "Yuk, mushy channel." 

Anyway, one Saturday morning, I asked JC to drive me to the mall. He didn't say no but he didn't move either. "We could do lunch," I said. In our family, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. In two seconds flat he was dressed and shod.

In between the entree and dessert came a windfall: a two-way exchange. The topic was JC's book of the hour: The Message, the Bible in contemporary English by Eugene H. Peterson. Still unavailable in Philippine bookstores, JC's copy was ordered through the internet. He talked more than I did, and with more spirit than I had. His point, "It was written in today's street lingo, evoking God's presence even when He is not in our minds."

Adrenaline made me extol my preferred King James Version, its poetry and elegance. Something I hadn't done since my literature class long before JC was conceived. After an hour, we left the restaurant but not the topic. The Bible could make me run on and on even if someone . . .

Someone was running after us, "Ma'am!" He sounded like he'd been robbed. He held a tiny silver tray with a receipt on it. "Please pay for your lunch!"

My spirit left my body out of shame. Talking about the book of books turned us into crooks. I instantly handed the waiter a bill. "Keep the change!"

The rude interruption ended our conversation, which was too good to be true anyway. JC zipped his lips back to normal after saying, "Mom, your tip was more than the bill." Punctuated with the look of nothing.

"I can read your mind. You want to laugh because your Ilocano mom who refrigerates used tea bags tipped generously," I said. "Okay, too generously."

He laughed.

I told my husband and my two other sons the story before JC could tell them his version. I underplayed the part about the waiter's tip. Still, they cackled, the way they do when we're at the beach together.

God has blessed us with a family with whom we can share laughter in the summer of our hearts.

He said to Abraham in Genesis 12:3 (from my KJV)—"...in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed." From JC's The Message—"...all the families of the earth will be blessed through you."

The weather may not be constant. But His grace is.

(Photos of Kosta Alcantara—the beach resort of Gov. Sev Alcantara and family—in Virac, Catanduanes: by my friend, Mabel Sotto)