Why VBS?

Way back in 1894, a Sunday school/public school teacher, D. T. Miles, in Hopedale, Illinois, felt that time spent on teaching Bible to children was too short. So, she started a daily Bible school during the summer.

Four years later, Virginia Sinclair Hawes, director of the children's department at Epiphany Baptist Church in New York City, started a summer "Everyday Bible School" for neighborhood children.

The idea caught on and so all over the world, churches (including our own PVGC) mount a summer VBS. I vaguely remember all the many VBS I attended when I was a kid, but the memory of getting to know Jesus has been inscribed in my heart.

Every year, PVGC uses the themed curriculum prepared by CSM Publishing. Inc., in  partnership with Philippine Children’s Ministries Network (PCMN) this year. CSM is my publisher, so I have seen how much time they take to prepare the curriculum every year.

This 2019, the kids enjoyed the Shield Squad: Secure in God’s protection. 

Aside from new activities and songs, they met the God who takes care of them, keeping them safe and secure. They learned about having the heart of a superhero, saving those who are in danger. 

I took a peek at the SRO graduation ceremonies and was awed by how our youth worked as a team to make the whole program unforgettable. Most important, they had planted the seed of God’s redeeming grace to 130 plus young minds.  

Why VBS?

Statistics: One-quarter of all people reached by any given church anywhere in the world are through VBS!

May all those who support the VBS in whatever form (time, effort, talent, snacks, budget, materials, prizes, presence, etc.) burst with blessings.

777,777

This number caused me to wake up at dawn so I could freeze it in time. I knew it would come sometime in the morning so I went to bed early so I could wake up early and wait for it. Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Then, there it was! Screenshot.

I am euphoric, of course, just as I was when I reached 555,555 and 666,666. But this post will remain only for one day because euphoria is temporary and short-lived. On the other hand, seconds and minutes, where grace lives permanently, will keep rolling along.

Thank you to all my guests who dropped by to read my posts these past 12 years and a half. This number is about you—and about the joy that visits me with every post. 

Saving Lives

Many Christian churches have outreach ministries—usually in communities where poverty-stricken people live. Our church has quite a few, mounted on an ad hoc basis.

But starting last year, a group of younger people/couples with a heart for children started one. It has since become a weekly activity that brims with life. Held in one of our village’s clubhouses, the children go through, to my mind, Sunday School (SS) curriculum.

This reminds me of my SS days where we prayed, sang, listened to Bible stories, learned about Jesus, and were served snacks. The only difference is that, today, the children are treated to digital images.

I was privileged to attend one, when my book on sharing was read to the children. What delighted me was their rapt attention and their quick answers to questions about the story. The outstanding ones were each awarded a book.

In my experience, outreach ministries have brought many lost souls to Jesus.  No wonder Pastor Jeremy Norton calls this church activity: Saving lives . . . eternally!  “Jesus was all about outreach ministry,” he said. 

Our Bible tells us that Jesus indeed moved from community to community, reaching out to throngs of people of every kind, bringing the lost to God so that that all may be saved. 

I am deeply grateful to—their names off the top of my head—Anne, Aaron, Carla, Ely, Esther, Joseph, Kit, Malou, Rhiza, Ric, Ruth,Tes, Twinzel, Yvonne, plus many more. They spend time, effort, and resources so that this ministry will stand strong week after week after week. We who are older, and therefore sapped of their kind of energy, can only watch in the sidelines.  

On my wobbly (and sometimes aching) knees, I pray for grace to rain on these faithful outreachers and the children—close to a hundred now—they minister to, so that more and more lives may be saved.

#anyareCOMELEC?

In the language of millennials, this Facebook hashtag means: what happened, COMELEC?

It begs for answers to explain the multiple mishaps and irregularities that took place on May 13, mid-term Election Day. This ignited opposition groups to join forces in mounting a protest rally in front of the Philippine International convention Center (PICC) where the COMELEC (Commission on Elections) are still canvassing the votes—as of this post.    

Various groups of protesters marched from different parts of Metro Manila to call on COMELEC to bare what transpired during the seven-hour delay in the transmission of results from the transparency server—aside from glitches such as “961 malfunctioning VCMs, 1,665 defective SD cards, and 1.02 million bleeding markers.”

Photos and videos of people pre-marking heaps of ballots have also been doing the rounds on social media.

#anyareCOMELEC?

Weeks before the election, the National Citizens' Movement for Free Elections (NAMFREL), a credible election watchdog since 1984, opted out of the polls because COMELEC—for the first time—prohibited access to data that would be published on NAMFREL’S website for transparency. On this website, we read, “NAMFREL’S commitment to clean elections was best shown during the 1986 snap presidential elections with over 500,000 volunteers who offered their time, energy and even their lives, to preserve the sanctity of the ballot.”

#anyareCOMELEC?

Because serious suspicions of massive deception resulting in the wholesale loss of opposition senatorial candidates, Neri Colmenares, one of them, refuses to concede.

Many rallyists stressed, “Seven hours of silence is anomalous!”

On the same day, the opposition Liberal Party (LP) asked the COMELEC to identify the areas where defective voting machines held up balloting for hours, “possibly disenfranchising some 500,000 voters.”

Some groups also urged the COMELEC to conduct a special random manual audit of the elections to erase fears of manipulation.

Whether COMELEC will give coherent answers is uncertain. Up until then, #anyariCOMELEC? is a question I (and many others) will continue to ask again and again.

“No one who practices deceit shall dwell in my house; no one who utters lies shall continue before my eyes.” Psalm 101:7

Photo credits: Inquirer.net; Rappler; CNN Philippines; Twitter; and various posts on FB

“It is Difficult to Love This Country”

It’s been six days since our mid-term elections, and the grief I feel is still lodged deep in my heart. I share this grief with many friends who have the courage to vent it on social media.

All the eight senatorial candidates I voted for lost. It was a straight win for the administration’s bets. If the results were the choice of the people, I would have said, so be it. 

But there were big, major glitches that could not be explained: over a thousand voting machines conked out; thousands of voters were disenfranchised; there was massive vote buying. And worst of all, there was a seven-hour blackout after the initial results were released where all the administration candidates (some of whom have zero platforms and experience in legislative work; some have been accused of plunder) were leading by a mile.

People stayed up all night waiting for partial results—zilch. Seven hours later, we got the same trend as those initially released.

Reading today the column of an esteemed author and national artist for literature, F. Sionil Jose, whose hometown is next-door to mine, I felt grace woven into his moving prose. He titled it, “It is difficult to love this country, so we leave.” He articulates what I could not begin to express.

May I quote him?

“It is difficult to love this country. But it is easier to do so if we think of her as our motherland, the way our mothers nurtured us, embraced us, and gave us their warmth, their loyalty, and caring . . .

“And so I go to the old hometown often, to look at immemorial vistas of well-cared fields and a people made enduring by work. I go there to listen to a language to which I was born but which I don’t really use anymore. Listening to it, I wallow in memory and I feel alive, keen to the sound of living, of memories of the past that I have read about which I know are now entwined with every fiber of my being as a writer who belongs to this unhappy country.”  
                        

"My Sad Republic" by BenCab*

Yes, it is difficult to love this country, and I will leave it someday. Not to other lands, but to where my citizenship belongs.

"But we are citizens of heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives. And we are eagerly waiting for him to return as our Savior."  Philippians 3:20 (NLT)

*BenCab, short for Benjamin Cabrera, is another Philippine national artist (visual arts-painting).  

Puppy Love

That intense feeling of attachment to someone that usually visits young people does not last long. It is romantic love that is transitory, as the world defines it. It fades away as he/she becomes older. That’s why it’s called puppy love.

Our puppy, Judge (born on Christmas eve), was so cute and so cuddly we all loved him to pieces. We were so intensely attached to him so much so that he began and ended our days.  We raced to put him in our lap, pet him, and play with him.

That was just six months ago. Too fast, he has grown into a real dog, no longer a puppy, and has ceased to be cute and cuddly. Where has puppy love gone?     

Judge sleeping with his mom, Attorney

Don’t get me wrong; we all love Judge still, but that feeling is no longer as intense as when he was little.

Thank God, grace isn't like puppy love. It is love everlasting. It is there for us from the womb to the tomb. It does not diminish. In fact, it grows as we mature spiritually. In a way, it matches our faith. It remains as intense as the awe, wonder, and gratitude with which we receive it.

"Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my live, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever." Psalm 23:6 (KJV)   

Judge (middle) on Christmas Day 2018

Art 2 Art

This is a TV/radio show hosted by Lisa Macuja-Elizalde, identified as Ballerina ng Bayan (Ballerina of the Country). I think it is a most apt title for an outstanding Filipina who has danced solo on many theater stages all over the world.

Produced by the Manila Broadcasting Company, the show airs every Sunday, from 3:30 to 4 PM on radio via DZRH, on cable television via RHTV, and on Cignal TV and Ch. 3 on Cablelink. It also has online livestreaming and may be viewed via the Facebook account of DZRH News Television.

Within half an hour, the show features conversations on art and culture with an invited guest from an art genre.

When I got the invitation to guest the show recently, I was ecstatic—not because I  would appear on TV, but because I would personally chat with the Ballerina ng Bayan, whom I have watched only from the balcony of a theatre, and therefore as small as my thumb. 

  

On the TV set, there she was, as big as life. She is real, down-to-earth, and a natural.

She asked about the many sides of my love for children’s iterature—where I get my ideas from, who my books’ characters are, and how I weave stories. For 30 minutes, I forgot I was before the cameras and enjoyed the rare encounter with a global celebrity, whose discipline and form as a ballerina are impeccable.

Well, the set was familiar territory—my milieu for more than two decades, shooting talents, products, and celebrities. The only difference was, the computers did all the work. The cameras stayed put, and therefore, stage hands running around were missing. 

  

You’ve come a long way, baby, I said to myself. I meant that to refer to my age, which grace has allowed to come this far—emboldening me to still write my next books, and talk with the likes of Lisa Macuja-Elizalde.

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

Art 2 Art

Merry Monday of May

Approximately 61 million voters in the Philippines will trek to polling places today to select local government officials and members of both houses of Congress. I will leave my computer alone for now, and join the rest of concerned citizens who are taking time to decide the future of our country.

“If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him.” James 1:5 (NKJV)

Lord, by your grace, please grant us wisdom to choose candidates who honor You with their sincerity and commitment to serve the country. Amen.

My kodigo (personal list of choices) for senators and party list:

Davids, the Underdogs

In four days, we will go to the polls and elect 12 senators, representatives, and all city-and-municipal-level officers.

For three years, our president, Rodrigo Roa Duterte, has practically hushed all opposition to his regime. Many editorials in media here and abroad say that this strongman has quickly managed to control all three branches of government: executive, legislative and judiciary.

He has also cowed the Catholic Church and has been deliberately crass behind the presidential seal—cursing, cracking lewd jokes, maligning women, threatening and harassing critics of his administration, accusing people minus due process, kowtowing to a foreign power, China, and worst, blaspheming the loving God of grace, Who allowed Himself to be nailed on the cross and die for me. This presidential  blustering has become the new normal, to the delight of his followers.

He is Goliath.

But there has been a birth of Davids, underdogs with nothing but a slingshot of principles. No stature, no money from our taxes, no power, no clout, and no fighting chance to slay the formidable giant.

OTSO DIRETSO (Straight Eight) they are called. Eight courageous, straight-shooting and hard-working professionals who have solid platforms, and if elected to the senate, will at least give our ailing democracy in this country a chance to survive via a dissenting voice in crafting self-serving laws.

The Davids are also the people who believe in them and are helping, minus the budget of Goliath, to craft the slingshot by hand, moving others to do the same:     

They have moved me. My conscience now dictates that four days from today, I should vote for OTSO DIRETSO—never mind if the giant is forbidding. 

Samira Gutoc, the lone woman in the OTSO DIRETSO team, messaged the president on stage and in interviews without batting an eyelash, “I am not afraid of you.”

Such is the guts of David, the underdog. 

Photo ctredits: Rappler, photo of candidates; others, from FB posts

Gawad Balagtas Awards Night (2)

The awarding ceremony of Gawad Balagtas capped the 45th UMPIL National Writer’s Congress with the theme: “Literature, Healing, and Wellness.”

All the seven awardees were each given two pages in the printed program, and this one’s mine. 

  

The citation reads:

"In writing stories for children, she time and again deploys narrative as an efficacious manner of awakening and illuminating. Awakening, as she presents, by way of the various facets of action, the myriad aspects of being human and humane; illuminating, not merely to instil morals among her young readers, but more so, to enlighten a world usually shrouded in darkness. She sows in the field of her stories the seed of valules enriched by Christian perspective. In its growth, in every flip of her books, hope is reaped, time and again, this fruit of faith, not only in the word, but also in the Word became flesh."

The chosen excerpt from my works:

From the “Tree of Life” (13th book in the Oh, Mateo! Series)

I believe that aside from the reasons cited by UMPIL for giving me the award, the real ones are out there—three of them, holding the book quoted above, are these: 

Yna (publications director of OMF Lit, publisher of my children’s books) and son #3 (as Tony can’t navigate stairways and long hallways these days), took time off from their busy schedules to be my cheerers on that special afternoon. 

And so we enjoyed the food, laughter, photo ops, encounters, and conversations. Old and new friends huddled in one hall to celebrate literature.      

(continued from last post) 

Photo credit: Mars Mercado, for children's photo (3rd from top) 

Gawad Balagtas Awards Night (1)

So this is how it feels to receive a lifetime achievement award, I thought when I heard the loud thud-thud of my heart.

As soon as my name was called, photos of my various life stages faded in and out of the big screen. Then an excerpt of one of my books was voiced and scrolled up.  On stage I was handed a heavy and awesome wooden trophy hand-carved by national artist and writer Manuel Baldemor.    

It was moment so special I have no words to describe how I felt.  

In my two-minute speech, I had wished to express the gamut of feelings churning my guts. I tried, but sometimes, words are inadequate to say it all: 

 
"I am a true-blue Ilocana. In my time, the medium of instruction was English. Imagine my shock and awe when I came upon Florante at Laura in my High School Filipino class. Although the language was difficult to understand, I found the words beautifully written.

"Unfortunately, I had no chance to learn this beautiful language because the children’s books and classics in those days were all in English. Also because after graduating from UP, I went abroad for further studies.

"Many years later, back in the Philippines, I followed my heart and focused on writing—in the language that I read in books and taught me in school. I had dreamed of writing in Filipino, too, so I wrote a piece, which I slaved over for days, and sent it to my friend, Luis Gatmaitan*, for his comments.

"The piece came back with more comments than my original manuscript. So I wrote another piece and sent it to him. After maybe the 5th try, Luis returned the manuscript to me and said, 'Grace, ang payo ko, mag-English ka na lang!' (Grace, my advice is, stick to English!)

"Forty published children’s books later, I read on Facebook that UMPIL has recognized my work in English. I read and re-read my name aloud. Me?! A GAWAD BALAGTAS awardee?! In my joy, I jumped so high—if I were taller, I might have reached the sky.

"To UMPIL, you can’t imagine how honored I am for this recognition. It means the world to me. Please be assured that this true-blue Ilocana, who writes only in English, will treasure this GAWAD BALAGTAS forever and ever.

"I offer it to the One who enables me to write."

* * * 

*A Palanca Hall-of-Fame Awardee, an excellent writer in Filipino, and a pediatrician, whom I fondly call my BFF

(to be continued)  

Halo-Halo

The Philippine culture is diverse. It’s exactly like halo-halo (mix-mix), the country’s yummy dessert and our cooling grace this summer. Many people believe that the halo-halo might have been derived from a Japanese dessert called, kakigori (shaved ice with sweet beans) introduced prior to WWII.

It has since evolved into shaved ice with evaporated milk and mixed with different kinds of fruits and tiny pieces of native delicacies.

Although we are a part of Southeast Asia, our culture spans Euro-American. I am not a historian, so I am treading on this topic carefully with research data from various sources. 

There are many ethnic groups scattered all over our 7,000+ islands, but nearly four centuries of Western rule greatly influenced us. While the Christian churches built by the Spanish and the mosques built by the Muslims provided spiritual anchors, the educational system from the US—expanded by Filipino academicians—has contributed to our cultural halo-halo.

(Brief background: Our history books say that the Philippines is named after King Philip II of Spain [1556-1598] as we were a Spanish colony for over 300 years. But long before that, in the 10th century, indigenous Filipinos traded with China. By the 12th Century, Arab merchants reached the Philippines and introduced Islam. And even before all that, as the discovery of the Callao Man* in 2007 suggests, the first humans—Negrito groups—perhaps using rafts or boats at least 67,000 years ago, inhabited our shores.)   

And so, today, we are a halo-halo of various traits and practices, brought on by the countries that stepped on our archipelago.

“From one man he created all the nations throughout the whole earth. He decided beforehand when they should rise and fall, and he determined their boundaries. His purpose was for the nations to seek after God and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him—though he is not far from any one of us.” Acts 17:26-27

* * *

*Archaeologists from the University of the Philippines dug up a human foot bone in the Callao caves about 210 north of Manila. Their report was released in the Journal of Human Evolution, “after tests in France established the fossil's age,” said professor Armand Mijares, the expedition leader. Cut marks on bones of deer and wild boar found around Callao Man suggest he/she could have hunted and was skilled with tools. Excavation continues to find other parts of the skeleton and hunting tools.)

Shookt

The first time I heard shookt and how one person used it, I was appalled. Then I heard it again and read it on social media posts—sometimes spelled “shook” to actually mean “shocked” or "shaken."

“Where have you been?” my friend W, who loves and uses gayspeak-and-millennial-trendy-words-in-one, asked.

“From a deep sleep or freeze, I guess,” I replied facetiously.

But words, if used often enough by people around you, become yours too. And now I am using it to describe how I felt during yesterday’s earthquake (6.1 magnitude in Zambales province, west of Manila).

It was a lazy afternoon and I was leisurely writing some ideas creeping inside my head when my computer chair swayed. I thought it was the second coming and I was ready to rejoice, but the swaying went on for a few more seconds.

That was when I was shookt. 

Frazzled, I felt many emotions all at once. I ran to the garden, where Tony was watering the plants to warn him, “Earthquake!”

Calmly, he replied, “Is that what it is? I thought I was losing my balance again.” (The last time he lost his balance, we rushed him to the hospital.)

Posts on social media were frantic and many wrote, “Shookt!”

But many were prayers, too, asking God for grace to spare lives and properties.

These photos (borrowed from news websites) show why people were shookt. Many more of these will leave us shookt as the end times near. 

"For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places.” Matthew 24:7 9 (ESV)

(Note: As of this writing, a stronger earthquake, 6.5 magnitude, rocked the Philippines. This time, the epicenter was traced to San Juan, Eastern Samar.)  

One Pair of Hands

My cousin Gadong, knowing how big a fan Tony is of Elvis Presley, sent via Messenger a video: One Pair of Hands. He wrote,”This is one of Elvis’ least heard songs.”

Upon hearing the first notes, Tony remarked, “That’s not Elvis.”

“But it sounds like him!” I argued. 

“The song is beautiful, but the voice is not Elvis’.”

What do I know? So I visited YouTube and found that it is being passed off as an Elvis number.

One of the comments was, “How could any Elvis fan not know the difference? Please give credit where credit is due.”

Credit is due Carroll Roberson, born July 17, 1955, whom I never heard of till Gadong’s message.  An evangelist, gospel singer-songwriter, and author, he is the founder and president of Carroll Roberson Ministries in Ripley, Mississippi, where he lives with his wife and two sons. 

I loved his song at first line. And I have  turned into a fan, especially because he also sings old hymns. His albums have since served as my background sounds as I pore over the drafts of my latest book due today, Easter Sunday. 

One Pair of Hands 

One pair of hands formed the mountains,
One pair of hands formed the sea
One pair of hands made the sun and the moon

Every bird, every flower, every tree
One pair of hands formed the valleys,
The ocean, the rivers and the sand

Those hands are so strong
so when life goes wrong
Put your faith into one pair of hands

One pair of hands, healed the sick,
One pair of hands raised the dead
One pair of hands calmed the raging storm
And thousands of people were fed 
One pair of hands said I love you

And those hands were made for me
Those hands are so strong
so when life goes wrong
Put your faith into one pair of hands x2 

I have put my faith in the God of grace, whose one pair of hands was nailed to the cross where He died to save me. But He rose on the third day to demonstrate His victory over our sins and give us eternal life. 

Happy Resurrection Day! 

Happy Home Reviewed

For a year now, I’ve been working on the 5th book of the Happy Home series and finally, we’re in the home stretch. And yet, my publisher and I are still agonizing over the title.

While we were hard at work, this old review of the series—when there were just three books—popped in my head and here I am revisiting it.

It was penned in Filipino by Dr. Eugene Yambot Evasco, a University of the Philippines' faculty member, Department of Filipino and Philippine Literature; and a Palanca Hall of Fame Awardee.  

Having inadequate familiarity with the language, I won’t be able to translate it to English accurately and as beautifully as Dr. Evasco wrote it, not in a million years. I will simply try to approximate his words—as best as this Ilocana could.

"It is quite apparent that many of Grace's children's books are about family and how people should develop good values." Yes, every book that I write should advocate family values, or I don't write at all. 

The series begins with Coming Home, where a 14-year-old street child is adopted by a Christian family and completes the household. "This first book is vital because, like any first chapter of a novel, the introduction of characters is key to the narrative."

"The 2nd book [That First Sunday] demonstrates the significance of the day as a time for worship and rest—as well as for family bonding and diligent study of the Bible."

"And the third book [Bully Vs. Bully] takes on a serious issue in schools, bullying."

"These books are essential and timely because they teach young readers the value of kindness, of adoption, and of sharing each other's grief. This series parallels what's happening in the world today—adoption of: refugees from hard, war-torn countries; babies abandoned by their parents; and street children . . . it likewise tackles the changing concept of family—from nuclear to extended."

Dr. Evasco ended his review with, "We often hear that charity begins at home. But in Grace's books, charity is not confined in the home, but can spring toward the dangerous spaces of the streets.”

Such insightful words, deeply perceptive of the series’ vision, are what's keeping the 5th book difficult to mount. In addressing delicate issues (the 4th book, The Real Thief, takes on children in conflict with the law), Happy Home cannot afford to offend the sensibilities of the readers for whom the books have been specially written.

Sitting is the New Smoking

I was lying on my tummy at the doctor’s clinic when he pressed a spot on my back, close to my spine.

“Owie!” I cried. The pain was piercing. He pressed some more spots beside it and my “owies” came one after the other.

A specialist in Anthroposophical medicine, Dr. Br. was actually my court of last resort. After seeing three doctors for my stubborn—and therefore immobilized and aching—right toes, I made my last ditch effort.

Dr. Br. combines Eastern medical practices with his Western medicine education, which he finished at the University of the Philippines. His post medical trainings have included further study of integrative and preventive medicine. Today he lectures in various universities in the country.

Here’s how I found him.

My friend, Ggie, sometimes asks me to partner with her in doing advertising/ promotional materials for her clients. She does the art and throws the conceptual words for me to write. Dr. Br. was one such client, and while I was doing his brochures and other collaterals, I marveled at his vast experience in restorative medicine.

“Sitting is the new smoking,” he said while he pressed more sensitive points on my back.

“Well, being a writer, I sit for hours at my computer,” I said, “so do all the rest of humanity today with their gadgets. How could that compare with smoking?”

“Smoking causes many diseases, so does sitting,” he replied simply.

After a two-hour work-up, I felt so relaxed I could sleep for days.

And what about my errant toes days later? They’re still obstinate, grasping as much as they could when I walk.

So I mentioned this to a neurologist friend whom I bumped into in a party. He said, “Muscle spasm caused by a degenerating spine.”

“Why would my spine degenerate?” I asked incredulously.

“Grace, you’re a writer. How many hours a day do you spend sitting down?” Always tactful, he did not mention aging.

Sitting has caught up with me as I age. But there’s no way I can change that, unless I type while standing or walking.

So I lie in wait for more windfall of grace:

“I will be your God throughout your lifetime—until your hair is white with age. I made you, and I will care for you. I will carry you along and save you. “I will be your God throughout your lifetime—until your hair is white with age.” Isaiah 46:4

Home Court

Our home court is now complete with the addition of Judge to the roster. He joins Attorney (his mom and our pet dog for seven years now) and Fiscal, our cat (who invited herself to be part of us last year).

The complete home court

Judge was born with three other siblings (females) on Christmas eve last year. After a month and one week, all four puppies were eating regular food and running confidently around. It was time to let the three females go.

It was a tough decision since the family had grown fond of all the puppies, but maintaining them was something else—drained best describes what all four reduced us to. Just cleaning their early morning discards took every bit of the energy one had regained during a whole night’s sleep. And their volume of food! Yes, that was absolutely draining on the pocket.

So here they are at play, the members of our home court, our family's sources of joy; grace that walked into our home from the streets: 

Judge and his playmate, Fiscal

Judge and his mom, Attorney

Attorney and her puppy, Judge, are askals—short for asong kalye (translation: street dogs).

Fiscal is a pusakal—short for pusang kalye (translation: street cat).

They are the members of our home court that make us all rise with excitement.

Beyond the Awards

Immediately after the announcement of winners of the Gawad Pambansang Alagad ni Francisco Balagtas* award,  the publisher of my children’s books, Hiyas (an imprint of OMF Lit), posted this on my FB page:

Just as immediately, friends wrote me congratulatory greetings in response to the announcement.

When people dear to you rejoice over such a recognition, your heart bubbles over with delight. I was leisurely reading and relishing each and every message, when one stopped me in my tracks:

Congratulations po! I've been your reader since 2009 and I grew up with Mateo Series~ I'm now a Language and Literature student and I would like to pursue a children's literature thesis. This is all thanks to you, Ma’am Grace, who inspired me with your books.

She’s been reading my books for ten years? And now she wants to write a thesis on children’s literature?

What an encouragement! More than awards like the above, narratives such as this make me profoundly grateful that I made children’s literature a a big chunk of my writing life.

*This annual institutional award is given out by UMPIL (Unyon ng mga Manunulat sa Pilipinas), Writers Union of the Philippines. It will be awarded at the 45th National Writers Congress and the 32nd Gawad Pambansang Alagad ni Francisco Balagtas at the Cultural Center of the Philippines, Pasay City this month of April.  

Online Grace (4): Bypassed No More

Mr. Generoso, CEO of the company, introduced a young, bespectacled young man to Pearl. 

“My new boss!” Pearl guessed. 

"Yes. Raphael will take charge of HR starting next month."
 
"Welcome, Sir Raphael," said Pearl.

Mr. Generoso explained, "Pearl will assist you in every possible way. She has been with the department for five years now.”

Five years and five bypasses, Pearl thought, smiling. Mr. Generoso moved Pearl from another unit to HR because, "We need you to run this important department."

However, when the season for promotions came, she was always bypassed by people less experienced. Mr. Generoso would apologize, "If it were up to me, I’d have promoted you to head HR on day one. But the policy for this position requires a college degree.”

Pearl dropped out of college in her third year to work, because her ailing father had huge medical expenses. She’d been an asset in this company, but.

Her younger but degreed bosses, meanwhile, were not equipped for the pressure the job entailed. So like clockwork, they resigned after a year or less.

Pearl had read an ad about an online HR course offered by a UK university. With her savings, she enrolled. Why, it was peanuts! Her five-year experience in the workplace enabled her to breeze through it all.

Encouraged by the ease of getting a BA degree, she enrolled for her MBA, also online.

When promotion season came again, Pearl knew Mr. Generoso would apologize for the nth time why Pearl was not qualified for the top position. 

This time, Pearl had her ammo.

Mr. Generoso was shocked. He gawked in awe at Pearl's diploma and her tuition receipt for MBA. He sputtered, "Pearl, more than anyone, you deserve to head this department! Now you are!”

"Bypassed no more?" Pearl joked. 

Mr. Generoso turned red, embarrassed but ecstatic.

Online Grace (3): Dream Degree in Situ

It was not too long ago when one had to leave the comforts of home and travel to a university where her dream degree was offered.

Back then, schools had specializations. Meaning, one school was known for its excellent engineering degrees and another would be known for humanities.

I had always wanted a degree in creative writing, but there was no university (at least a bus ride away) that offered such course. I’d have had to go abroad to find that dream course (which was out of the family budget), so I ended up in a state university offering a course that had one or two subjects requiring creative writing.

Today, online learning enables anyone to take any course she wants from any place in the world that offers her choice degree. 

Long-distance traveling for a diploma is a thing of the past. You can take your degree in situ—at your own time and place.

Out of curiosity, I googled  “online creative writing” and voila, I got a long list of schools and programs that offer it in various timelines and permutations. Had I been born in this digital age . . . well, I am sure you catch my drift.

This is just one of the many great things the Internet provides you and me. On the flip side . . . well, you won’t go up the stage wearing a cap. And you will receive your diploma flat, instead of rolled, sent to you via courier or snail mail in an envelope.

Online Grace (2): A Modern-day Gift

In my time, a college diploma cost parents an arm and a leg. Imagine what students spent for a four-year degree:

1. Dormitory cost (if you lived far from school)
2. Daily fare (if your home is just a ride or two away)
3. Allowance (food, school supplies, and books)
4. New clothes/uniforms
5. Tuition and miscellaneous fees 

That was before the advent of computer.

The modern age has dropped a gift onto our lap, literally.

Via a laptop, one can earn a degree right in the comfort of home—or any place where one takes his laptop—through Online Learning.

E-Learning eliminates the first four items in the list above. And it drastically reduces the cost of #5.

I have friends whose children have opted to take their college degrees online, not for economic reasons but to avoid modern-day problems outside the home: smog, traffic snarls, allergens, robbery, noise, accidents, etc. They claim that E-Learning is a modern-day gift and the greatest revolution in today’s education. 

I say it is online grace, a wise option, for this tech-savvy generation.