Our 2022 Christmas Turkey: The Backstory

Not that anyone is interested (ha, ha!) except me and perhaps Tony, but my fingers are raring to write about it. The writing itch is something I can't ignore; it needs to be scratched.   

One of my first grace blogs in 2006 was about our turkey dinner tradition on Christmas eve. It has not been broken yet—not even during the pandemic. What we broke was the preparation. Tony used to do the bird, with the help of our longtime househelper, Ate Vi. 

Somewhere down the road, Tony gave up. Son #3, with his youthful evergy, immediately took over.  This new chef, however, has a different style from Tony’s, who winged it every single year.  

For this young heir, everything has to be scientific—to the letter—from a recipe he meticulously chose from many.  All ingredients should be original; no alternatives allowed. 

But Ate Vi passed on, and son #3 became a lawyer, swamped with too many stressful court cases. We decided to simply order one. 

It was a major error. The taste could not even come close to any of our past turkeys. So the next year, we decided to go on a staycation in a hotel that served turkey on Christmas eve. For three years we did that—if only to honor the tradition. 

Guess what came next. The Covid-19 pandemic. Son #3 decided to take on the challenge once more, because an Ate Vi in the person of Teresa (marooned in our home) was a perfect sous chef. 

This is our third Christmas dinner where he did the turkey—and it always elicits comments from us, “This is the best one yet!”

Because I hardly go out anymore, I had been able to document the turkey prep step-by-step, from defrosting to serving. It is tedious. It is time consuming. It takes a passion for cooking to master it. 

My three sons inherited that passion from their father. Now, please spare my feelings by not asking what genes they got from me. Ha, ha! 

Worth a Thousand Words

Pictures populate social media the day after Christmas. On my wall, I see nothing but beautiful and colorful pictures of people laughing in a group shot, eating scrumptious food, opening expensive gifts, and basking in activities worth freezing in photos.  

The adage, "A picture is worth a thousand words" is true in every shot. One does not have to use words to explain the meaning of the celebration. 

Before taking pictures, we put on make-up, comb our hair, wear our best clothes, arrange the food and the decor—all art directed to elicit oohs and aahs from the  beholder.   

But what those pictures (at least those uploaded to the Net) do not convey are the stories behind them, or what happened before and after they were taken. Those are  actually worth more than a thousand words. 

Our own photos on Christmas eve (below), for instance, which were taken by son #1 and  uploaded to His FB wall, went through some (okay, lotsa) art-direction. The layout of the table, the décor in the background, the angle of the camera, yadda-yadda-yadda—these took more time than the picture-taking itself. 

This is not to say that picture-taking is a sham. All I mean is that pictures really do paint a thousand words, but the scenes behind them paint volumes more. 

Try looking at your photos many years later. The unpainted words come flashing back—from each of our own perception of the experience. There is no single story in a picture,  but there are memories (good or bad) worth going back to, because they are a part of what we have become today. 

While we’re at it, I’ll peek at my old albums of Christmases past with our three young sons. I want to give thanks to the Lord once again for those pictures He painted with grace. 

Red and Green

Red and green are the two colors that are closely associated with Christmas. 

Once I wore a red and green printed dress to a summer get-together with close friends, and I became the center of playful teasing.

“I didn’t realize it’s already Christmas!” “Oh, no, I haven’t wrapped my Christmas gifts yet.” Some even sang “Joy to the world!” 

Why indeed do red and green remind everyone of Christmas? Nobody knows for certain, but there are many tales or theories that explain it. 

My favorite, of course, refers to the Reason why Christians celebrate Christmas: Jesus.  

Red represents the blood He shed for us at His  crucifixion. Green pertains to the evergreen tree that remains green through all seasons, including a long, deadly winter. It's a metaphor for the everlasting season, where we will be forever green in eternal life, after our earthy death—if we accept, in our heart, Jesus as our Lord and Saviour. 

These symbols, which have been going around the Net in various stylized graphics, explain it best. 

Grace Came Down

A Christmas reflection:   

In fact and in truth, man can't do or be anything—not even breathe—without God's grace. Every good thing on this planet called Earth is by God’s grace. All our smarts, skills, possessions, accomplishments, and successes are by His grace alone. 

Without His grace we wouldn't even be here celebrating the day Grace actually came down from His lofty throne to a lowly manger, all because of His unspeakable, unconditional love for you and me.   

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." John 3:16 (KJV) 

Merry Christmas dear family and friends!  

Well-loved Speck

In relation to the vast universe, man is just a teeny-weeny speck. Consider these scientific statistics: “The earth’s sun belongs to a galaxy called the Milky Way. Astronomers estimate there are about 100 thousand million stars in the Milky Way alone. Outside that, there are millions upon millions of other galaxies.”

Now let’s translate that into images that the naked eye can see: if all the stars in our sky  were only the size of pin head, they still would fill the Philippine Arena to overflowing, more than two billion times. 

Mind boggling, isn’t it? 

What’s even more incredible is that the God who created those twinklers that surround the immense cosmos loves us!  He loves not only the whole humanity, but loves you and me individually. So if we think of ourselves as important, we are—to the Creator of  unimaginable galaxies.    

John 3:16-17 (NLT) paints this for us beautifully and implicitly: “For this is how God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life. God sent his Son into the world not to judge the world, but to save the world through him.” 

Scientists might think we are astronomically insignificant, but God considers us worthy to be in His loving care. He demonstrated this by coming to Earth to be with us on Christmas!  

We may ask, I am just a tiny speck in the bodies of stars up there all over and God wants me to live with him for eternity?  

“But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God. They are reborn—not with a physical birth resulting from human passion or plan, but a birth that comes from God." (John 1:12-13) 

On Christmas, may we all celebrate God’s greatest Gift to tiny specks like us. 

Choosing to Fly Solo

In addition to familistic, one other adjective used by sociologists to describe our culture is: pronatalist. 

It's the practice of encouraging people to have children. Perhaps this is the reason why, during family reunions to celebrate Christmas, the older members (aunties and grannies, in particular) of the clan ask the single ones:  

“When are you getting married? You’re not getting any younger.” 

“Why are you not married yet? You’re not at all ugly."  

“You’re now over 30, when will you stop flying solo? 

 (No matter how they phrase the nagging, they mean: get married before you age beyond child-bearing years.) 

To marry when one reaches age 30 is a pressure people inflict upon single ladies, as though it were a crime or a failure.   

“Solo Flght” (written by Francie Castaneda-Lacanilao and moi; published by OMF Lit) zooms into this pressure from the points of view of those who fly solo, by choice or by force of circumstance. 

Francie’s story, the jump-off point of the book, breaks the mold. She finally got happily married after a long solo flight. (Read the book and find out why the great Matchmaker orchestrated it all.) All the rest are unique and inspiring narratives of singlehood grace.     

It was a privilege for me to co-write about and reflect on them—even today, 11 years after the book was launched. 

(P.S. Times have changed. The number of people who have opted to stay single or childfree—at least in my circles—has increased exponentially. Several of my lady friends say that when old titas and lolas ask them why they are not married yet, or why they have no children, they shrug, "I choose to fly solo.")   

Three in One (Part 1)

If these three words sound like a bargain, they are.  Not only do they save money, they make you spend less time, effort, and everything in between. 

Coffee connoisseurs, like my three sons and husband, laugh at my love for three-in-one, but what do they know? 

Sons #1 and #3 bought a coffee maker, for which, I suspect, they pooled their resources equally and paid an arm and a leg, because they hover and fuss over it before they can drink the freshly brewed black liquid that it spits out in trickles. 

Tony is the beneficiary of the two boys’ investment. 

Moi? This has been my brand for years (Malaysian coffee). Son #1 orders it for me online because it is no longer available in stores since the beginning of the pandemic. 

All I need to do is snip a corner, pour half of the brownish powder into my mug, add boiling water and ta-da! It gives me about 10 minutes of unbridled joy while I read the newspapers (paper version) and solve their crossword puzzles.  The other half I take in the afternoon with my snack while reading a book—with my feet up. Bliss. 

If I need to go somewhere, I throw a pack into my purse and enjoy the half elsewhere and the remaining half at home (or wherever I might still be). Why half?

My doctor advised me against drinking coffee because of my acid reflux. So behind her back, I compromised. A pack, taken in two servings, does not put me in the category of coffee drinker, does it?  

My three-in-one coffee is not the only thing I pay homage to. There is another three-in-one grace that the Lord blessed me (our home) with. 

But that ode deserves a blog all its own.  

Gallimaufry

This is one word I have ignored and never used. Not only is it difficult to spell, it is also laborious to pronounce. Instead, I use simpler synonyms like hodgepodge, oleo, mishmash, medley, and jumble. 

But today, it is the answer to the newspaper’s crossword puzzle clue: motley assortment. 

I am struck dumb—this is our world, in general, and our country, in particular, today! All its synonyms seem too weak. It's time I used it.  

We are drowning in a sea of different ideologies, many of them a gallimaufry of lies, fake news, and heresy. The media tell us that our prople are suffering from the highest ever (in 14 years) inflation rate at 8% and the highest-priced red onions at P300 per kilo.  

Poverty (situation of people whose per capita income cannot sufficiently meet basic food and non-food needs) is at 18.1% or around 19.99 million living below PhP 12,030 per month for a family of five. In addition to poverty, “lack of education, drug or substance abuse, vice, crime and unemployment are among the many problems that continue to batter them.” Rampant and blatant corruption should be in there, too. Can we ever swim back to shore?   

This gallimaufry is exactly what the good Book tells us about the end times:  

“. . . the kingdom of heaven is like a net which was thrown into the sea and gathered fish of every kind; when it was full, men drew it ashore . . . sorted the good into vessels but threw away the bad. So it will be at the close of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous, and throw them into the furnace of fire; there men will weep and gnash their teeth.” (Matthew 13:47-50 RSV) 

Gallimaufry will finally end on judgment day. 

Note to self: Before that happens, here and now is when we need the grace of redemption to save us from drowning.   

Unending PINK, Unending hope

From that one moment in October when I searched online for PINK in nature (the day the PINK movement was born), my email continues to receive them in heaps from different sites. 

During the presidential campaign, someone suggested to post anything PINK on Wednesdays and called it PINK Wednesday. That should have stopped when Atty. Leni Robredo lost the election. 

But no, it didn't. 

Many friends still observe PINK Wednesday. Since these lovely PINK images have not stopped coming, I have decided to likewise continue with the midweek post and share these lovely finds. So far, I have uploaded these: 

It looks like I will never, ever, run out of lovely PINK photos. They will surely outlive me as I do not have too many Wednesdays left, if I were to base my flyaway time on this Bible verse: 

“The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away." (Psalm 90:10 ESV) 

I am therefore uploading a collage of them here, good for over a hundred Wednesdays—just from one site, pinterest.com. 

The colors of grace are innumerable. One of them is unending PINK, defined in various ways.  

Here’s my favorite: 

“The color of frivolity lives between red and white. PINK takes all the passion and energy of red and tempers it with the purity of white, leaving us with the color of tenderness and affection.”  

And may I add: hope. 

All I Have Needed

November, thanksgiving month in some parts of the world, has come and gone. But we can't stop giving thanks. 

“A Thankful Church” was the theme of Pastor Moe's message from our pulpit one Sunday last month.  He, who grew up listening to messages from the same pulpit, journeyed faraway and reached those parts of the road pockmarked with potholes, before taking a U-turn and slowly headed back home.    

Little wonder, then, that he exclusively and passionately preached about being grateful. 

He began by citing the ingrates in the Bible story about the 10 lepers, dregs and pariahs of society. They were freed from these burdens when Jesus healed them. How tragic that only one, a Samaritan at that, went back to thank the Healer. 

Pastor Moe then asked what many of us are guilty of:   

In truth, there are always so much and so many to be grateful for—too numerous to count and list—about our church.    

For 47 years, our village place of worship stood tall, despite some turbulence and turmoil within. Now, Pastor Moe works with our pastor-in-charge, many years his senior albeit still young in numerical age—Pastor Popoy. Hand-in-hand they chart with our church board the future of our ministry, with urgency, as the second coming is at hand.   

What better way to demonstrate this working together than through a duet of  How Great Thou Art.  And even better for me, as I was attending the sevice online, I sang along with them. 

Every day, every hour, every second, and every millisecond are the best times for us to thank the Giver of grace for all we have needed.  

An Author’s Pipe Dream

All roads lead to books. 

November (National Book Reading Month) always seems to make that happen, with the Department of Education since the year 2011, requiring all schools to hold reading activities and make noise about books.  

Ah, November.  

Books on Grace as of November 2022