A 55-Year Journey on a Single Bus Ride

Where to go? What to do? A place not too far. A place not too near. 

Before son #2 and daughter-in-love arrived from the US for a brief visit, we had settled on an ideal place for spending time with them: Camp John Hay in Baguio. It is the summer capital of the Philippines with  clean, cool air nurturing nature all around. 

Son #1 and #3 both took a leave from their jobs. My sister, Aie, accepted our invitation to join us. And I packed a warm blanket because my timeworn body can no longer stand weather below 24°C.

The express bus ride would take five hours. 

As ever,  I sang softly my LSS for the day. 

Because He lives,

I can face tomorrow!

Because He lives,

All fear is gone.

Because I know

He holds the future,

And life is worth the living,

Just because He lives!

But the bus ride halted the singing and transported me back to yesterday--all of 55 years--like sporadic stops at depots and a quiet journey through vivid and non-sequential images. (Ooops, this is turning maudlin.) 

Quiet wedding. Meeting for the first time. Unromantic first date. Birth of sons #1, #2, and #3. Family R&R. Food binges in restos and at home. Visit to bookshops. Idle chats. Animated arguments on politics. Reading together. Writing. Graduation ceremonies. Celebrating. Mourning low points with kith and kin. Career. Family business. Growing together. "For as long as we both live." Plus all the funny and sappy stuff a simple/modest family does.

Now, why would tears fall like torrential rain? Did grief gate-crash again? Or was I being shown my life's river of grace?

We reached Baguio in five hours, as scheduled. The 55-year journey reached its edge.

And life is worth the living,

Just because He lives!