Once Upon a Time

In Ilocano, the translaton is: Idi un-unana nga panawen. 

Long ago and far away, my maternal grandparents, who lived next door in one compound, had a subscription of Bannawag (Dawn in English) Magazine.  It was a gift of my aunt’s suitor, whom she later married. No, it was not a bribe.  

A bit of a background: Bannawag features serialized novels/comics, short stories, poetry, essays, news features, and entertainment news, and was founded on November 3, 1934. The first issue had a production run of 10,000 copies and sold for 10 centavos each. It is still in circulation today, 80 years later.  

It was one of my early reading fares every week when the rolled magazine was thrown by the mailman into my grandparents’ porch. I took the liberty of unrolling and reading it before they could. I would alternate Bannawag with the English storybooks sent regularly by an uncle in the US and our Encyclopedia Britannica.  

I had totally forgotten about Bannawag until a dear friend, Luis (a multi-awarded prolific writer in Filpino), featured my book “Dump Truck in My Heart” in Liwayway magazine, one of the Filipino publications he writes for. And memories came rushing back. 

Bannawag is published by Liwayway Publications, Inc.  

So, do I write in Ilocano? 

To my shame and embarrassment, I can’t. It was not taught in school and it was just a weekly fare. But English literature was within easy reach daily. In my time, although we spoke Ilocano at home, English was the medium of instruction and before I could warm up to Filipino in my four-year stay at the University of the Philippines, I left for the US. 

Back in the Philippines for good, I twisted Luis’ arm to teach me how to write in Filipino. But after editing my 5th draft, he gave up, “Grace, I suggest you stick to English.” 

Ket ngarud kakabsat, kastan ti kasasaadko. 

Signing and Singing are Synonymous

“Dyslexic!”

I have been called that—often—by people I spend most of my time with: family and close friends. 

It’s because it takes me more seconds than they do in distinguishing left from right, push from pull, north from south, entrance from exit. 

Sometimes, I also mix up sounds of words. I’d say Dantu Date, instead of Dante Datu (his real name), or Papelmeroti instead of Papemelroti (spoonerism, it is called). 

“Should I be worried?” I once asked a doctor about these maladies. 

She laughed. “You are a writer, and therefore, a multi-thinker. There are too many things in your mind at the same time, making you oblivious to signs and sounds.”

And now this: 

Signing and singing, to me, are the same. Signing my books is building connection with the reader. It’s as though we are being connected by an invisible velcro. And that makes my heart sing.

Sign and sing. 

Sing and sign. 

Sign and sing.

Sing and sign.

Sign and sing. They are one and the same. In my multi-thinking (euphemism for absent-minded?) brain,  they are either interchangeable grace or 2-in-1 grace. And that has nothing to with dyslexia or spoonerism. 

Then sings my soul, my Sav­ior God, to thee:

How great thou art! How great thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Sav­ior God, to thee:

How great thou art! How great thou art!

Stuart K. Hine (1899–1989)

18 Years of Grace

And just like that, Leaves of Grace is 18 years old!  On this same day, I posted my very first blog. It has been my regular writing fare since. 

Every four days (sometimes one, two, or three), I post a new blog. I have never missed a beat except that one time when I was hospitalized, but I quickly made up for it by blogging almost daily. 

Why do I still do it? Well, I am still breathing.  

Blogging has been a panacea, a stress buster, an outlet, and often my prayer of thanksgiving for the undeserved grace the Lord grants me every day. It is a platform where I could write about my thoughts without censure. The editors are me and myself. 

To celebrate, I borrowed a birthday cake from my favorite online haunt: Pinterest. 

It includes pink flowers, which came to join my leaf header at the beginning of the presidential election campaign in 2021 and have remained. Pink is the color of hope and hope never dies.  

For how long will I be blogging? As I say often, till my last breath. Or, till my brain addles, whichever comes first. 

 

“. . . we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.”  2 Corinthians 4:16  

The GIFT of Seniors

Aging, the world is aging.

The percentage of people aged 65 and older is expected to double by 2050, reaching 2.1 billion. It's an irreversible global trend, according to The World Health Organization (WHO). 

This fact prompted Cely, a nursing professor and a nurse doctor, to organize GIFT (Growing in Fellowship Together with Jesus) to help us seniors in our church understand our aches and pains and be equipped with coping armors. 

Therefore, GIFT is not just an acronym; it is actually a much-appreciated gift. 

Once a month, we listen to God’s word through our Pastor; Cely gives helpful guides on how to take care of ourselves and what red flags to watch out for—including forward actions; our nurses check and record our vital signs. These are followed by exercise (dancing led by a youth leader) and one activity for the day (either embroidery, crochet, flower arrangement, etc.), capped by snacks.  

All these were shared with the community in October, our Missions month. The men’s group invited the barangay senior association and took care of logistics. From a modest number of 15, our number quadrupled.  

I was tasked to share the Word (our pastors are both young and the seniors might listen more to a fellow senior). 

With humility, I embraced the assignment. It was an opportunity to share the Gospel to the unreached—who came to us instead of us going to them. 

God’s Grace brought a horde to enter His church to hear His word and to be gifted with deeper knowledge of a blessed life stage called the golden years. 

Selfies and groufies were part of the game. 

It was a joyful GIFT to everyone who came. 

“We will do this again,” the president of the men’s group mused.    

(All photos borrowed from the PVGC FB page)

A Little Try and They fly

Every day, after having lunch, Tony and I park ourselves on the terrace. About this time, the birds, a flock of many birds, come and partake of Judge’s (our pet dog) meal. 

For month’s now, I have been dreaming to take a nice photo of them as proof to kith and kin that our house is bird-friendly. But whenever I pick up my phone, they fly away! 

Are birds camera shy? 

One day, as I waited for them to come, I had my camera ready, held in place by my arthritic fingers. The waiting rewarded my arms and fingers with painful cramps. 

Our driver, Sam, saw me and laughed, “Birds are super sensitive to sounds. When they hear even a very slight movement, they fly away!” 

I coudn't give up. The next few days I got a few shots of those who couldn’t fly away fast enough. A group shot of all (about three dozens, or more) would remain a dream.

So I did the next best thing. I took these photos to the computer and with some apps, I simulated their positions. Tada! 

Not as good as the real one and it does not capture their huge number but good enough. I love bird watching because they remind of God’s merciful grace: 

“Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them.” (Matthew 6:26 NKJV)

Someday, when these birds of creation stop coming, this photo will remind me of their daily visits to join Tony and me at our after-lunch parking lot. 

What’s the Big Deal with Haircuts?

Well, the boys in our family have theirs every three weeks. Many other friends say the same. It’s as commonplace as mowing the grass.  So what’s the big deal? 

For me, it was a BIG deal. For 20 years, I had the same hairdo, being trimmed by my hairdresser, Chat, every three weeks. I had to maintain the same look for photos in my books. In fact, I had compared myself to the Queen of England who had to keep the same hairdo, or the government would be changing those stamps and money as often as she changed her silhouette.   

But the pandemic barred me from going to the salon for three years, and during those times, my new books had to feature my old photos, which I thought was dishonest as I no longer look that way.

Anyway, the pandemic ended and finally, I had a haircut.

But the three years (ravaged by two Covid assaults), I self-reflected and decided not to be hung-up on consistent brand image (a habit I acquired from years in advertising). I opted for one that would hide my hearing aid and will not require me to wear earrings.  

See, advertising has changed big time, too. Look at those AI-generated-and-content-creator ads online. They maintain no template! The mass media of my generation is in ICU and has flatlined. 

BEFORE                                             AFTER 

With filters and editing apps available today, nobody really knows how one looks like in person just by seeing photos online, right?  I am not even sure if I look right (on the right). 

Chasing after Me

Psalm 23, KJV, has been in my memory since I was seven. The cadence and the Shepherd metaphor prod me to recite the whole chapter when someone mentions it. 

But it was only in church, while we were thinking of a theme for our church’s anniversary from Psalm 23, that this Bible chapter totally engulfed me—as though I had come upon something so rare and so precious. 

Psalm 23, verse 6 reads, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” 

Shall follow me? I mumbled, seeing with new eyes what that means. I flipped trough various Bible translations and stopped in my tracks when I read The Message. It uses a verb so concrete and so graphic: chase!  

I imagined people and myself—when problems strike—not simply walking but running away from the narrow road. And the Lord chases after us with his goodness and mercy.  

Grace. Faster than the speed of light.

October: Go! Where?

October was Missions Month of CAMACOP (The Christian and Missionary Alliance Churches of the Philippines). From the first Sunday to the last, our church was decked with these. 

This year's theme: “All of Jesus for All nations.” 

In our women’s Sunday school, we also focused on our role in missions for which CAMACOP exists: 

 

"To transform communities and to aggressively disciple the nations by engaging in holistic development ministries; and by planting churches that proclaim Jesus Christ as Savior, Sanctifier, Healer and Coming King."

Can we do that? Not everyone is equipped to go out to the community and other nations. 

But we can with PSALM.

P – Pray for missions, missionaries, the lost, and unreached people. Participate in the church’s missions events.  

S – Support those who can go out by giving to the church’s Mission fund. Sing aloud “Jesus Only,” our main message to the world, and to ourselves.  

   

A – Applaud those in the mission field. Appreciate them through letters, words, or any other form of love gift. 

L – Learn from missions-specific teaching and training in church. Listen to sermons about God’s heart for the nations, evangelism, and missions.

M – Meet a missionary and hear about his/her work to preach about salvation. Meditate on how God saves sinners.   

On the last Sunday of October—while many of us were donned in varied national costumes—we met a missionary, Pastor Lillian Pada. She limped on a cane to the pulpit, where she shared her experiences. We were inspired by her humility and her tenacity to serve God through flood and drought, sunshine and rain. 

Listening to her made me reflect on Apostle Paul’s suffering in the mission field: 

“I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from becoming proud.

"Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. 

"Each time he said, 'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' 

"So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. 

"That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”  2 Corinthians 12:7-10 (NLT):

Clickbait

“Klikbit,”our driver Sam said when he started vlogging about his chickens and roosters over two years ago. That was the first time I heard about clickbait. He was ruing his inability to write a clickbait to earn as much as his friends who are adept at doing so.

I never paid it any attention because I skip vlogs. 

Then I read my friend Lucy’s post on her wall: 

“Once upon a time, it was called a LIE. Nowadays, it’s called a CLICKBAIT. (And it’s OK, because that’s how it goes to get ahead?) She quotes the Bible:  “…and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone…”  Rev.21:8 (KJV) 

I sit up and scroll down my page. Clickbaits (headlines designed to lure readers into clicking a hyperlink especially when it leads to  something dubious or salacious) abound! 

“How could this have happened?” 

“It’s the first time the world will know . . .” 

“Why, this is impossible!”

“The biggest mistake you can make!” 

“This is the cutest thing ever!”

“Take this quiz and find out why . . .” 

The term clickbait,  a combination of "click" and "bait", was coined in 2006 by blogger Jay Geiger, and added to the Oxford English Dictionary in 2016. Clickbait drives page views and generates revenue for sites through advertisers.

Advertizers  . . Lucy and I were, once. We called those misleading headlines, “false advertising.” Penalties were huge. 

Today, there are new synonyms for digital lie: scam, fake news, toll farm, meme, deep fake, AI generated, etc. They're monetized. And no penalty! 

I ask Sam if he has learned to write clickbait. He replies in Filipino, “I am not a liar!” But, he smiles, “My vlog is earning because readers buy my chickens and roosters. I cannot breed them fast enough.”

Uh, oh, I hope he does not think of resigning.  

Clickbait/lie. That’s where we are today. Denver, another friend, summarized it thus,“We have not only hit rock bottom, we have breached Hades.” 

We need grace to lift us out of Hades.