Iloilo Hello (Part 2)

Blitzkrieg isn't a very wholesome term, but that's the word that pops out when I remember my Iloilo trip. It was like storming five places in rapid succession.  

Book blitz it was, and I pray that the people whom I reached are a little better because of it. I am definitely better—more encouraged to reach and meet as many readers as I could.  Bonding with them, feeling their palms, made me realize that a writer and readers are one. 

In all three schools, I talked twice—first for the younger kids and second for the older ones. I actually asked for it.  Initially, one school had all the children (pre-school to high school) assembled in one hall. I thought that talking to all would be like talking to none.   

Division done, connection made—on to book signing. Kids make heart wrenching remarks and ask mind boggling questions.

Next stop: adults.

They were a totally different breed. Unlike children, they hold back and censor their thoughts, but just as warm. The seminar for singles drew a crowd of over 150, a few of whom are Compassion college scholars studying in Iloilo; it was great to see about a dozen of them there. The Q and A matched my whole talk in length.

The teachers' seminar made me marvel anew at these noble professionals who love spending time—beyond what is required—with children. One of the attendees, a white-haired senior citizen, said she will never retire.

All book talks and seminars done on day three, I retreated to my room to pack. One last talk in a church the next day and then to the airport. 

“Tired?” Angel 1, Lynnie, asked.

“Never,” I said, winking at Angel 2, Christine.

They both hied off to the mall and brought me home a packed dinner.

One hour later, my tummy was churning and burning, which I thought a good sleep would cure.  

But at two in the morning, I woke up woozy, as though my stomach moved to my neck.  I almost didn't make it to the bathroom.  I wretched and wretched and wretched, and out came my dinner in spattering installments.  After more wretching, debasing the pristine bathroom in the process, I felt like I ran around our village a hundred times, totally spent.

Me: Lord, are you telling me to rest?

God:

Me:  Lord, is this my last day on earth?

God:

Me: Will you enable me to do my talk tomorrow?

God:

Cleaning up my mess, careful not to wake up Angel 1, Lynnie, took all the energy I had left. All zonked out, I barely crawled back to bed.  

At seven AM, only half of me woke up. Towing my luggage, Angels 1, Angel 2,  and I took a cab to church. I did my talk and signed books before the three of us rushed to the airport.  

After strapping on my seat belt, I went out like a light, nudged only by my seatmate when it was time to deplane.

Home at last; some soup, then off to bed—all of 12 hours.

Waking up still weak to a new day, I was able to do the chores I had left behind. God had answered my questions the night before! 

God: Yes, I am telling you to rest; blitzkrieg is over. 

God: No, this is not your last day on earth; not yet.   

God: Yes, I will enable you to talk in church; and you will. 

Can grace ever be explained?