Letters to Myself

Have you ever written a letter to yourself? 

I have—too often in fact. As frequent as every four days, or less. That's the cadence that matches the time I need to forewarn or encourage myself in my faith walk. I write to me through my blogs posted on my cybersite.  

 

Unlike many bloggers who write for an audience, I write primarily for me. I talk to myself, no-holds-barred, and in so doing, I infringe upon the thoughts of others who are confronted with similar issues. They write back in private messages and they become comrades—faith brethren, who likewise forewarn or encourage themselves and me through snapshots of their experiences.   

This was precisely how it felt when I was writing the devotions for Grace@Work—all 365 of them—each in no more than 200 words that roughly translate to one-and a-half-minutes of reading time. Although most of these are faith stories of people who have stayed or drifted in and out of my life, these are also my stories, especially because I overstayed in the workplace—that battleground of stress, perks, egos, moral turpitude, and temptations that could slaughter or slay us if we are insufficiently armed with God's Word. 

I am sure all of us who believe in grace have been enormously blessed (we forget when hard times roll) with experiences we could share to arm others; and that we have been placed where we are for this purpose.  

ooo

The above is an excerpt from the Author’s Note in my book Grace@Work launched in 2014. 

I happened to read it again because I was sending a copy of the book to a new friend, Ptra. Caren Grace. I had to quickly scan the pages to remember what they're about. Yes, I don’t remember exactly the details of what I had written in any of my books, because when I am writing a new one, my whole attention is on the current work.  

I have recently completed a new book (printing stage), so I have time to look back and blog the short breather away. Meaning, write more letters to myself.

Devoseries

You can’t find the word “devoseries” in the dictionary—not yet anyway. It was created by CSM (Church Strengthening Ministry), the publisher of Twin Blessings, a devotional for children. 

The book has 180 devos, each one complete in itself. But as you read the next pages till the last entry, you’ll see the progression of a complete story—with a beginning, middle, and ending.

I initially wrote the book as a novelette for young readers, complete with characters, plot, setting, and theme. But when the editorial board of CSM read the manuscript, they asked me if I could divide it into bite-size pieces for our readers to truly and easily understand the values. 

Was it possible? Not on my own. Grace came to point and guide the way. 

Result: chewable, short entries, each with a prayer and a verse on which the value, through a slice-of life, was based. 

What’s it about? Broken relationships made whole again: acknowledging faults, seeking forgiveness, praying for each other, demonstrating love and compassion—all mirroring God's forgiveness and reconciliation. 

I thought it was a one-off project. But I was surprised when CSM messaged me last year that they needed another devoseries to be launched this year. A year! The writing time was reasonable. 

But towards the end of my deadline, I suffered a terrible setback. Tony was hospitalized and on his 20th day, he was called home by our Savior. It was in his hospital room where I continued working with his encouragement—and yes, I met my  deadline. 

Five months after Tony’s last day with us, today, the manuscript has been edited and reinforced, and as I wrote finis to the book, I am in awe of how the Lord makes things possible. 

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end.” Ecclesiastes 3:11 ESV

In September, at the Manila International Book Fair (MIBF 2025), devoseries 2 will be launched. What’s it about? I don’t want to pre-empt the launching so let me leave the answer and the cover blank. 

Fan, Just Fan

Contrary to popular belief, air conditioning is not the solution to the punishing heat we are suffering from in the Philippines today. In fact, it has more disadvantages than benefits. The high cost of electricity tops the list. 

Then, according to doctors, air conditioning has potential side effects on our health: dry eyes, lethargy, dehydration, dry or itchy skin, headaches, respiratory issues, allergies, asthma, and infectious diseases. 

Is there a better alternative? 

There is—a hand fan. 

It maintains a more natural humidity levels in the environment. With hand movement (at varying speed), it creates a breeze, as needed.  Zero energy cost and zero health hazard. 

It’s a bonus if you have a lovely pink hand fan such as mine—the Mayon volcano in all its splendor and my name specially printed on it. 

It is the pasalubong (coming-home present) of Sammy, JR’s driver, from his vacation in his place of birth, Bicol. Sammy has been driving for us for years and years and this is the first time he decided to take a leave so he could vote! Yes, vote! Only now in his whole voting life (he will soon turn 50), had he been able to cast a ballot at last.  

He came into our lives as a driver in Tony’s firm, then transitioned to being our family driver when the office closed. I call him JR’s driver today because no one shares in paying him anymore. With Tony gone and jobless me, JR is shouldering both car/driver maintenance.  

The Bicol fan is a time-sensitive and warm gesture during this warm time. It’s my airconditiong at the terrace, where Tony and I used to spend most of our time, and where I still read, solve puzzles, enjoy the grace of creation (birds, butterflies, trees, and flowers), and reflect on anything and everything. 

 

Brief

Brief is a polymorphic word. It can function as multiple parts of speech.   

Verb: I’ll brief her about the meeting. 

Noun: He wrote the brief for the trial.  

Adjective: This is a brief blog.

Please humor me; I may be splitting hairs here. 

But after visiting Tony’s grave one morning, the word brief (adjective) kept nagging at me. 

First, it was a brief visit because the heat of the summer sun was already scorching even at that early hour, making me woozy.  

Second, his tombstone shows the dates of his birth and death, a stark proof of how brief earthly life is. 

Third, in the face of my pesky off-and-on grief, I sought comfort from the Lord and reminded myself of this verse,“Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.” (Psalm 144:4 ESV) 

In all, I looked forward to the promised grace of eternal life after I breathe my last and when the shadow shall have passed.  

Tuesdays

On Tuesdays, I am reminded of the now-classic Tuesdays with Morrie (a memoir by Mitch Albom), which I enjoyed reading sometime in the late 1990s. 

I am in good company. This particular book continues to be popular among the reading crowd. It was in the New York Times bestsellers list for over 200 weeks. Now it is the best-selling memoir of all time. It has sold over 20 million copies in more than 59 territories worldwide. Despite all that, there were many initial negative reviews: “same old; sappy; like a  Hallmark greeting card; oversimplified; pseudo intellectual).  

Tuesdays with Morrie began as a modest labor of love to help with the hospital bills of Morrie Schwartz, Albom's past Sociology professor, who was dying of ALS. The unprecedented success of the book shocked book lovers. 

From here, Albom moved to writing real-life fiction (about 20 to date and one more to be launched this year).  

I have savored only half of that number. I look forward to reading the others as they make it to the Philippine bookstores. My latest purchase, which I could not put down:  

Albom, as many of you already know, is an American author, journalist (sports), and musician. What makes him so popular as an author? 

Well, the underlying themes of his books are love, relationships, authenticity, transience, choices, acceptance, and grace—values that should endure but are now in  “Lost and Found” or in the trash bin. 

For me, his books make for a riveting read because of the surprises that spring at me along the way. He interweaves his characters with values and conflicts, then solves them almost seamlessly in the end. 

You don’t have to believe me. Each reader has his own reading preferences. For one, Tony read spy thrillers and history books (one book a week)  and didn't give my book choices a glance,     

Tuesdays remind me of the kind of books I read and the timeless values I always write about so they may not be lost or tossed into the trash bin. 

Gotcha!

“Grace is not something we find,” I wrote in the Author’s Note of my book, Grace Found Me. “Rather, it finds us—but only if we allow ourselves to welcome and be embraced by it. Grace is free, but we cannot find it in ourselves. It is something we can find only in God. And the good news is, we need not buy or earn it, because we could never, ever, afford or merit it on our own.” 

In short, gotcha! 

This photo, which I found posted online, demonstrates it best. 

Once Grace finds us, we are set free. Jesus fulfilled the law for us: "Sin is no longer your master, for you no longer live under the requirements of the law. Instead, you live under the freedom of God’s grace.” Romans 6:14

Once grace finds us, we receive salvation: “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” Ephesians 2:8-9 

I was afraid I won't be able to go it alone when Tony bade us goodbye. But grace sought me out. “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18 

Gotcha! Grace tracks God's children down and finds us right where we are.    

Photo credit

Beautiful, Big, Brown Butterfly

Butterflies flit from flower to flower in our garden every day. They are my early-morning delight! At mid-morning, the heat hits hard and some take refuge somewhere. 

Their sizes vary, but the biggest I have ever seen is about nine inches in length with colorful wings. 

But on the 20th of May, exactly four months after Tony left us, Mother Teresa called me in her shrillest voice. “Come, look at this big butterfly!” It posted itself on one of our posts. I took a shot from a few feet away so as not to scare it off.  

Amazed, I moved closer and it didn’t budge. I clicked away and still it stayed. I wasn’t sure if it was a moth or a butterfly, because I haven’t seen anything as big (about 12 inches long or more) and as uniquely designed before. 

So I sent the photo to my ading Aie, who loves butterflies. “It IS a butterfly!” she replied. 

The butterfly stayed on that post for hours. Then it moved to another post. 

“Manong Tony came a-visiting!” ading Aie joked. 

Coincidentally, Son #3 saw the same species of butterfly inside his office that same day.

Many cultures associate butterflies with transformation and rebirth because of their metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly. That's why this symbolism leads some people to interpret their presence as a sign of a deceased loved one's visit.   

As a believer in Sola Scriptura, I eschew this idea. But definitely, butterflies, beautiful as they all are (and big as the brown one that delighted us one day), demonstrate one of God’s manifold delighting grace. 

Writing-for-Children Workshop

This happened many moons ago, but after I had blogged about writing for children, memories came flooding back. I am glad I kept photos of the event.  

One publisher was mulling over the possibility of expanding its genres to include children’s books and invited Luis (Tito Dok, a Palanca Hall of Fame Awardee) and me to conduct a workshop among writers.   

By then I had written about a dozen books, and Luis, double or triple my number. Both of us never went through formal training in writing, neither had we attended any workshop such as this. 

But the publisher said, “Just talk about how you do it. Inspire the writers!” 

It was a two-day workshop for writers whose manuscripts went through the critical eye of the editorial board. To register, they had to first send a manuscript, and from there, the attendees were chosen. 

At that time I was not at liberty to divulge the event. But I think that after many  years, without naming names and everyone of us transforming into unrecognizable miens and sizes, it is as safe as safe can be. These once-upon-a-time photos tell the story: 

Day 1: 

Day 2:    

Since then, I have conducted many workshops (I call them my grace days), but this one, long ago, remains to be one of the most memorable. The participants were not only engaged, they were incisive and sharply focused. In fact, all of them have published works to date. 

I am grateful that my mind is still lucid to remember and my hands still steady to write about it.