The Book Fair's Back!

Many things can change in one day. Imagine then the slew of changes in 1,095 days, since the last Manila International Book Fair (MIBF 2019) was unceremoniously halted by the pandemic. 

The early days of Covid-19 forced me to do nothing but write (three books*), read, solve puzzles, watch feel-good videos, listen to music, chat with friends and family on social media, watch the flowers bloom and the birds fly, and attend memorial services—often simultaneously online.  

Meanwhile . . . many got the virus (including our whole household); those who were fortunate to get a room in a hospital languished and expired there. It would have been so easy to curl up, cower in terror, and cry, but the presidential campaign was a shot in the arm, a surprise grace.  

It brought joy and renewed vigor for ideas, projects, and collaboration with former colleagues here and abroad. Passion for a rosy future was ablaze once more.  

The kakampink period was a season of hope. 

Alas, the election outcome, which many believe was a massive fraud, dashed that hope.

Then the announcement came: MIBF will happen this year! 

That disoriented me big time. In years past, I’d shop for new outfits, and plan my daily trek to the venue (from opening to closing time) months before the event. There I’d walk around ceaselessly with my sister Aie or my friend Yay, hunting for books, stopping only in my publishers’ booths to sign my books and chat with readers till the last day, up to the last hour. 

This time around, Tony and my sons reminded me a million times to be careful, bring my vaccination card, observe social distancing, handrub with alcohol often, and never take off my mask.  

On the day of my book-signing assignment at the OMF Lit booth, I snatched Tony’s pink sweatshirt from his closet, donned my most comfortable jeans, and didn’t bother to wear shoes.  

Those were wise decisions. I was unaware (because I lived in rubber flip-flops at home) that my foot malady has worsened; I would never have walked one meter in shoes without writhing in pain.  

For one hour, I signed books fiercely and vigorously, then headed home. Why didn't I go around as I used to? Perhaps the virus took a toll on my body; or age is rearing its ugly head; or the inertia of rest had my system resting still; or health protocols and family's strict warnings have prevailed. 

Whichever. I must have run out of gas.  

The photos below are from OMF Lit and the FB walls of various friends.   

These big changes in three years addled my brain, but enriched my heart. Now these verses in Scripture are more meaningful than ever: 

“. . . we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. . . So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”  (2 Corinthians 4:16 and 18 NIV)

*Memories of Grace, Lumpia Lane, and The Teacher in Me

 

Black

Martial Law has but one color: black as black can be.  

The lights went off on September 21, 50 years ago, when Martial Law (ML), through Proclamation No. 1081, was declared by then President Ferdinand E. Marcos, Sr. (branded by the world as a dictator for this act). 

Fifty years is a long time. But we, who experienced its abuses and atrocities, will never forget that darkest time in our democracy. And we pray it will never happen again.  

The numbers ML produced are daunting: 

Around 70,000 people were imprisoned, 34,000 were tortured, and 3,240 were killed, according to human rights group Amnesty International. Many of those are friends, once young, and kin. 

“Never look back to the dark times,” my grandma used to say when she saw me moping as a little girl. “Forget them; they will only hound you, and torture you all over again.”  

If she were still around, she’d most likely re-word that nugget of wisdom.  

Thirty one million people (if the results are to be believed) either chose or were paid to forget ML and voted for the dictator’s son, Ferdinand Marcos, Jr (Bongbong), to be our president today. This election has made us look back and remember—opening old wounds and rubbing salt into them once again, more vigorously this time.

Beyond mere remembering, we have learned hard lessons that we need to pass on to the next generations. 

It’s ironic that during Bongbong’s first 100 days, we would be commemorating the 50th year of ML’s proclamaton. 

It’s even more ironic that the relentless campaign to revise history by his supporters—to deodorize and eventually erase ML from our heart and mind—is paid by people’s money. 

Unless there's honesty and humility to admit that crimes during ML happened, and debts are paid per court decisions, there will never be a closure.

Professor Emeritus Clarita Carlos, appointed by Bongbong as the National Security Adviser, said these on national television prior to the election:  (I took the liberty of translating her Taglish into English): 

“If I were Bongbong, I’d admit that there were military and police atrocities because those are documented. They’re not anything contrived or imagined.  I have many colleagues and classmates in UP—they just disappeared Their parents could not even grieve properly. So admit it. Then make a categorical declaration, ‘These things will not happen in my administration.’ How difficult it is to say that?”  

“If my people who are called by my name humble themselves, and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14 ESV)

Then black will be no more. 

Anci with an E

This lovely little girl spells her name without an E, but in my heart of hearts, I see the E—three E’s in fact, and all in caps: Engaging, Extraordinary, and Excellent. 

AnciE wote and illustrated a book when she was only seven years old! Two years later, today, she has an extraordinary portfolio of art and design, and she continues to write.  

I was (and still am) one excited recipient of two of her works when she and her parents visited the booth of OMF Lit at the Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) last Sunday.

I wish I had time to talk to her, but the booksigning for Lumpia Lane and my other books nailed me to my seat for more than an hour. 

Her book, Valerie's Life Lessons, is engaging. It is about values many people thrice her age will never learn in their lifetime. 

When AnciE's mom first uploaded to social media a photo of the first page of this book, with my name on it, my hands froze, unable to type a word of response. And when AnciE gave me a signed copy at the MIBF, I was tongue-tied. See, I drew an arrow to my name to flex it!  

 

I first met AnciE when I spoke at one of her school’s events, which the teachers and children her age attended. It was online, so there was no time for chats. 

On that grace meet-up I heard my adrenaline rushing, carrying an extra drop of grit to answer the children’s incisive, candid, and difficult questions. 

It is to the credit of her school, The Learning Tree, that talents such as AnciE’s are encouraged and honed for excellence. Many events that showcase the students' God-given gifts are mounted often so that other children (with the support of parents) who view/hear them can likewise be inspired to never rein in their creativity. 

Writing for (and with children like AnciE) is a ministry I will latch on to till the Lord whispers in my ear, Time's up. 

000

". . . whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me." (Matthew 18:5 NIV) 

My Cup Overflows

If I were to express that, it’d be, “My cup runneth over,” the King James Version of Psalm 23, which I memorized as a little girl, and still could recite without blinking today, decades later.

Yesterday, one very important celebration in my life happened after a two-year hiatus because of Covid-19:  the 47th anniversary of our home church (my family shares 45 of those years), with the theme, “My Cup Overflows."   

I should be shouting with joy over its success. But why do I weep? 

Because “my cup runneth over.” 

Our Sunday School was where my children grew up, imbibing the values my husband and I echoed at home. Now my youngest son chairs the board, empowered by an excellent, hard-working team composed of his VBS classmates years ago. He makes me toe the line when age gives unsolicited advice, and assigns me jobs, such as handling the Women’s Sunday School, when we lost our teacher. 

Through 45 years, we hurdled a succession of church workers, the comings and goings of members, and the many other hiccups that threw us into a tailspin—but God keeps filling our cup. 

While watching the children perform an action praise song, I saw on their faces my sons’ and their friends’. The Pillar of Praise, spirited youngsters all, kept us singing our hearts out.  Angels from above sang "Overflow" with the euphonious PVGC ensemble.    

Beautiful flowers filling the sanctuary, arranged by the women the day before, bloomed with God’s multi-colored grace. The physical arrangement was impeccably done by the men.  And the church’s musical instruments, screens, video equipment, and other technical doodads, installed by the youth, enabled everyone to “taste and see that the Lord is good.” 

Inside, God’s church was packed to the rafters!  Outside, the yard, kitchen, rooms, and offices, were areas of celebration.   

All of these—from 45 years ago, when we first set foot inside a small, dingy bodega that has  metamorphosed into this church structure—were nothing but prayers. 

“My cup runneth over.” 

Then our guest preacher, the first pastor who shepherded my family 45 years ago, declared in a strong voice that belied his cancer-abused body on its 5th punishing year, asked, “When our cup runs over, what do we do with the overflow?” 

Tears blur my eyes. Let me continue when my sight clears up . . .

Photo credits: borrowed from posts of PVGC brethren on the PVGC FB page. Thank you all.  

Entrance Fee

Tennis enthusiasts know all about Wimbledon, the oldest tennis tournament in the world, and is regarded by many as the most prestigious. One Wimbledon fan is Mabel, who never misses any tournament. 

She planned on going to the latest one (2019) but was complaining, “The entrance fee is too steep at P85,000! And the seat for that fee is too far away—the players would just be the size of my thumb!” 

“Just watch it on TV,” suggested her aunt, Sol. “You won’t spend a thing and you can watch the games up close.” 

“Oh, but there’s nothing like being surrounded by the roaring crowd!”  

“P85,000 entrance fee, plus plane fare and hotel accommodations could buy a car!” Sol added.  

There is a steep entrance fee to the venue/place of any important event. Some are higher than others, but one has to pay for the privilege of watching or participating.  

In contrast, the most important place of all—the kingdom of God—has no entrance fee. It is FREE. Jesus paid the price for us on the cross. The cost is on Him, and by His grace alone.  

“For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard. Yet God, in his grace, freely makes us right in his sight. He did this through Christ Jesus when he freed us from the penalty for our sins.” (Romans 3:23-24 NLT)

Without any entrance free, can everyone simply enter the Kingdom of God? 

Individually, we first need to acknowledge our spiritual drought and accept, by faith, God’s forgiveness for our sins. Then we are guaranteed a new life in Him—and when the time comes, eternal life with Him in that kingdom.  

Anybody in the world (regardless of race, language, country or culture) can enter a new life today because, by Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross and His resurrection from the dead, Jesus has paid our entrance fee! 

Empty Canvas

“What is most satisfying for me about painting,” remarked Calvin, a Christian landscape painter, “is looking at an empty canvas. Then, when your hand starts swishing and swooshing your brush on it, this white space begins to be filled with shapes and colors that form into something beautiful!” 

Where do you get your ideas?" asked an art enthusiast. 

“Why, from Scripture and creation, of course!” he replied. “Just looking around, I see God’s amazing works. When I read my Bible, I see images that come to life for me. There are not enough canvases to capture all of nature's grace!"  

Psalm 104:24-25 (NIV) mentions some of God’s spectacular creation. “How many are your works, LORD! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. There is the sea, vast and spacious, teeming with creatures beyond number—living things both large and small.” 

As a beholder moves her eyes across Calvin’s paintings, she marvels at the work of God’s hands: oceans rolling with bigger-than-life waves; fields teeming with crops below and birds above; mountains and clouds embracing; animals cavorting under the skies; flowers meeting bees and butterflies; and waterfalls cascading to boulders on the ground. 

“He holds in his hands the depths of the earth and the mightiest mountains. The sea belongs to him, for he made it. His hands formed the dry land, too.” (Psalm 95:4-5)

Calvin’s paintings, amazing and astonishing, are all inspired by our Creator. And yet, it will take all of Calvin’s lifetime to capture perhaps only one percent of God’s magnificent creation.  

How do we contain and reflect on God’s creation in the canvas of our heart?  

(Three of many paintings of God's creation by various artists; free downloads from the Net)  

Bodyguards

A bodyguard is usually armed and works as a personal security officer who protects his client from such threats as assault, kidnapping, and stalking. His job includes planning routes for his ward. 

In this country, an armed bodyguard may also serve as a driver for his client. 

High-ranking government officials, wealthy businessmen and their children, and those who feel that their lives are in danger hire a bodyguard (or more, if necessary) to protect them. 

Ordinary people have bodyguards, too. But they are unseen and unpaid. They are grace from our loving and protective God. 

They are called angels, celestial beings who protect and guide human beings, and carry out tasks on behalf of the Lord. “. . . angels are only servants—spirits sent to care for people who will inherit salvation.” (Hebrews 1:14 NLT)

In the Old Testament, God said to the Israelites as they left Egypt for the Promised  Land,  “See, I am sending an angel ahead of you to guard you along the way and to bring you to the place I have prepared.” (Exodus 23:20)

God’s host of angels praise and worship Him. They are described in detail in Revelation 4. We hear their voices in verse 8, “Day after day and night after night they keep on saying, ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God, the Almighty—the one who always was, who is, and who is still to come.’”

Just as a mayor  or a millionaire has bodyguards, believers are blessed to have them as well—God’s heavenly protectors and ministers, armed with His anointing.  

“Don’t forget to show hospitality to strangers, for some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it!” (Hebrews 13:2) 

Proxy

Any corporation with a scheduled election of new officers usually sends all members a formal notice. It states the date, time, and place of the event. Attached to the letter is a proxy form, where a member, who cannot attend the meeting, can designate someone—a substitute—to take his place. 

The member has to brief his proxy thoroughly, so he would know how to act and what to say during the meeting. 

Proxies, however, usually don’t say anything—they are just a warm body who will vote for the pre-chosen candidates of the member they represent—because they are not privy to all the issues in the organization.  

Corporation members are valued in an organization. But no matter how dependent the organization is on them, they cannot always be there. Sometimes they are busy elsewhere or abroad. Sometimes, they are indisposed. Or sometimes, they have lost interest in the organization altogether and have moved to a new one.  

As is often said in the business circuit, “No one is indispensable.” This means, nobody is special. We can easily be X’d out by anyone who is just as qualified. Someone will always be available to take our place.  

But there is One who is indispensable. He can never be replaced or X’d out. 

He is never busy elsewhere, never indisposed, and never loses interest in you and me. He does not send any proxy to care for and guide us either. He is the only One Who dispenses grace to sustain us. 

“I can never escape from your Spirit! I can never get away from your presence! If I go up to heaven, you are there; if I go down to the grave, you are there.”  (Psalm 139:7-8) 

Corporation-member proxies are dispensable. So are corporation members in any organization. But God is indispensable in our life.

When is the best time to cling to God? Every moment, every day of our life.