Badge of Fans

The corona virus quarantine must have turned me into an FB denizen. Every week I get tons of: 

“You have been identified as one of the top fans of (FB page). Go get your badge now.”

I never did. These nudges, however, tell me two things: 

1. I read every page I see on my own news feed. This is good because I make time to know current ideologies and what modern people think about.  

2. My movements are tracked and no longer private. This is bad because I take my privacy seriously. In fact, my blogs and post are neither chronological nor scheduled as they happen.

And badges for fans? I guess at a certain point in life, one outgrows being a fan of anything. In fact, I can’t even recall how it felt like to be a screaming fan anymore—or being dewy eyed listening to my favorite singers. 

Does age turn one into a cynic? I hope not. I guess interests change with the passing of years. And we begin to have a different definition of what is important.  

So what’s important? 

“ . . . be careful how you live. Don’t live like fools, but like those who are wise. Make the most of every opportunity in these evil days.” (Ephesians 5:15-16 NLT)

A Tale of Two Leaders

With apologies to Charles Dickens . . . 

These are the best of times, the worst of times—the age of wisdom, the age of foolishness; the epoch of belief, the epoch of incredulity; the season of light, the season of darkness; the spring of hope, the winter of despair.

Using two leaders instead of two cities, I am illustrating polar opposites in leadership values.  

Leader A is young, a newbie in politics. Since day one of the virus lockdown, he has been hailed for looking after his constituents’ needs. Although with good intentions, he almost got into hot water when he allowed some tricycles to transport frontliners. 

On his 31st birthday, he prohibited any kind of celebration. Instead of birthday gifts, he urged his well-wishers to buy grocery food packs and give them to the needy. His tweets:   

Leader B is five years short of being a senior citizen. He is a major general and the chief of the National Capital Region Police Office (NCRPO). On his 55th birthday, he was surprised by his men and some high-ranking police officers with a party, complete with a Voltes 5 cake, a scrumptious array of food with matching alcoholic beverages, tables and chairs, and balloons. 

Photos of the party were then uploaded online by the NCRPO’s Public Information Office.  

A ruckus on social media trended. Ordinary citizens screamed of violations of government’s ban on mass gathering, alcoholic beverages, and social distancing, which the honorable general was supposed to implement. 

To his credit, leader B apologized but insisted in an interview, "Wala pong mali doon...It would be ungentlemanly kung 'di ko sila hinarap at pinauwi ko sila [There was nothing wrong there...It would be ungentlemanly if I did not face them and if I told them to go home].”  

Here are two of our leaders (A and B) in a time of pandemic, the season of light and the season of darkness. We rejoice, we grieve.  

But beyond all those, we are grateful that it is still (and always will be) the season of grace for all.   

Photo credit: W and Rappler

Off-strat and Out of Order

“You’re off-strat,” my boss would promptly say when you as much as said anything that veered away from the strategy. 

“Out of order,” says the chairman in meetings when you speak about anything other than what is on the table. 

Sadly, during these critical months, while we race against time to ease people of life-threatening problems brought about by the Covid-19 lockdown, we have been off-strat and out of order. 

These are not my personal opinions; they are from experts: 

For three months now, our updates are not based on raw, granular data. People who died two months ago are added to today’s numbers. Meaning, data two months ago was inaccurate—and yet they were plotted out to be the basis for decisions. 

Over 220,00 jeepney drivers are out of job. Add to this number the daily earners like waiters,  construction workers, etc. Zero income for their families.   

Employees who have been allowed to work have no transportation. Many walk and bike to and from work for hours.  

Schools are generally unprepared to go online. Indigent students cannot afford the gadgets needed for such classes. Schools are hard-at-work putting never-tried-before modules to work. 

Over 40% of micro to middle-sized enterprises (MSMEs) will close. That includes our own.  

Suicide and depression cases are increasing. OFWs are coming home and are now jobless. Children are crying of hunger. Thousands have died. Plus many, many more. 

And yet, the authorities prioritized the: anti-terrorism bill, the suppressing of the press, Rappler, for cyber crime, the closing of a TV network; and discussion on taxing online sellers.    

Can’t those wait till after seeing to the people's more pressing problems? Health. Food. Death.  

How long will we be off-strat and out of order? 

I am no expert and don’t have the authority to offer any solution. I can only echo Habakkuk, weeping while praying for grace from the Almighty:  

“How long, O Lord, must I call for help? But you do not listen! ‘Violence is everywhere!’ I cry, but you do not come to save. Must I forever see these evil deeds? Why must I watch all this misery? . . .”  (Habakkuk 1:2-3 NLT) 

Dark Ages

The world seems to have fallen back to the dark ages. 

As we are caged in our homes (specially senior citizens like me), we look out the window and try to see where light may be coming from. 

Unfortunately, light comes from neither here nor there. We see sparks, but they are soon gone. 

We read posts of both experts and amateurs, whose minds we respect, and because of many differing points of view (POV), we grope: conspiracy theories, fake news, propaganda, and worse, arrogance and ignorance.  

Dark. 

It is difficult to see the light. 

Then out of this darkness shines grace—brilliance from the arts, the industry most affected by government’s quarantine measures. I behold drawings, paintings, digital art, memes, short videos online that spell light. Again, they get blurred by whining, accusing, blaming, raving, and ranting posts. 

I try to seek them out. And here’s one that gives me goosebumps. It is intrusive and presents a perturbing point of view in four frames, ironically published on June 12, 2020, the Philippines’ 122nd independence day.  

ACL: “Fought to achieve it, fight to keep it.” 

Agree or not, it is an artist’s stunning POV, without resorting to gutter language, the trademark of paid trolls today.

Dark.

If this scenario be true, it is difficult to see where to go from here.

Yet, it was also on a dark night when Light was born. And if we see and believe that Light, and bring It to our heart, we need never experience darkness again.

The world is dark today, but my faith makes me focus on the Light in my heart so I don’t walk in darkness and get lost. 

“I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness, because you will have the light that leads to life.” (John 8:12 NLT) 

Photo credit: ACL 

Handling the Truth

“You can’t handle the truth!” yelled Colonel Nathan R. Jessep, played by Jack Nicholdon, in the movie A Few Good Men. He then went  on a tirade to defend himself.

It came back to me when I looked in my mirror after 75 days of the Covid-19 quarantine. This image stared me in the face.

No, not Mona Lisa—her hair (a meme created by my artist friend, Ggie). That is exactly how my hair roots look today.

Oh, I can handle the truth. What I—and the rest of my womankind—can’t handle is leaving home without a perfect coif. And so we dye and suffer the consequences of chemicals. 

The 75 days of house arrest have actually been grace for my scalp. No dye has touched it since March 16. So I asked myself why I even allow chemicals on my head?

There are over 500 brands of hair dyes in the world, and they come in thousands of different colors and hues, and they are sold in ALL stores, and most of their advertising say: (not in so many words) your natural hair can look better.

And so these become our “truth.” A sad commentary on mankind’s love of self.

I am on the ninth chapter of the book I am currently writing, and this verse made me sit up after that encounter with my mirror. 

“ . . . we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:18 ESV)

Ah me!

Share Your Art

Writers and artists, the off-the-wall personas who make up a creative team in an advertising shop, have been suddenly barred from leaving their homes because of the corona virus pandemic.

But nobody could cage free spirits.

With their computers, they have been unleashing online their unconstrained creativity via memes, poetry, sound bytes, and art works of all kinds.

One of them, Ggie (my sister from another womb), sent me this. “Come on,” she messaged me, “share your art!”

 “No way!” I balked. “I’d rather write than draw a bird!"

This friend is a nag, and harassed me every day. I let my guard down and thought, Why not? 

Since I have all the time in the world, I tried my hand at computer art. I am a newbie and will never trade writing to visual art, but it was worth a try.

My first attempt: Circles can never go wrong, can they?

 My second attempt: I took some of my books* to draw the bird.

All told, these took one week of my time, after which I proudly showed them to Tony. He said, “They’re okay.”

Okay?! Just okay?! 

On second thought, I’ll take “okay.” It is not his usual, “What's that?"

Let’s enjoy the lockdown artist friends. Thank you for showing us your amazing magnum opuses on social media. The quarantine could take a few more days. Or weeks? Or months?

P.S. I grabbed Ggie's beautiful bird from her wall. I am sure she did this in less than 30 minutes.

*My prayer is that these books on grace, plus all the others that did not make it to this bird, will continue  to take flight despite the downturn in the publishing industry. 

Mister God, This Is Grace

If you are put off by spiritual laments, feel free to click away.

Mister God, This Is Anna is an old book about friendship between a 16-year-old boy, Fynn, and a four-year-old foundling. I didn’t get to read it till 2001, when my sister Aie gifted me with a copy. It was riveting; I devoured it in two sittings.

The corona virus quarantine makes one look through bookshelves again, in lieu of bookshops, which are all closed, and discover old readings.

This book whispered, Read me again. I have barely gone through page 10 when I felt myself lugubriously sobbing. It was not because of the cruel lashes  etched on Anna’s bruised body, but because I shrunk in shame at the way she went past them—more than I or any adult could, over a slightly bruised ego.

Anna is unscathed, her faith in and knowledge of Mister God is whole and unshaken. She seems like a theologian, living spiritual doctrines both in mind and heart, with a full sense of God’s nature.

Fynn is a foil to Anna’s pint-sized Albert Schweitzer. She asks difficult questions, which require unconventional answers. She knows about evil, pain, and abuse, but shows no sign of suffering from what we conveniently call trauma.

By telling Anna's story, the author (Fynn) memorializes a young but awe-inspiring  kid who is unforgettable. Constantly pondering various aspects of her faith, Anna believes that religion, to be meaningful, must be lived.

"She never made eight years, she died by an accident, with a grin on her beautiful face. She died  saying, 'I bet Mister God lets me get into heaven for this'."

Reading it again 19 years later while anxious over the pandemic, I do not find it only moving, but disturbing. Anna, an unschooled waif, humbles adults ten times her age.

Adulthood blinds us to see beauty where there is uncertainty. To Anna, things may be chaotic, but beauty is undiminished. 

Today, many people—especially me—have been asking, “Why, God?”

But rereading, Mister God, This Is Anna, I find myself thinking, Mister God, This Is Grace. It’s like having a bittersweet sense of what life is about and a capacity to make the mess bearable.

It is mortifying, but liberating.

The Number 40

“The Israelites,” Pastor Ariel (our home church’s senior pastor) stressed in his livestreamed Sunday message, "were stuck in the desert for 40 years. In all those years, the Lord never left them. They were never forsaken—their shoes did not wear out, their food did not run out, and they won every battle.”

It was one of his several illustrations of how the Lord took care of His people in olden times. “Just as He took care them, He will take care of us. God finishes what He started.”

When God began to create all things, He finished everything in six days.

When God sent Jesus to the world to save people from their sins, He finished His mission on the cross.

When God  started His great work in you and me, He will bring it to a flourishing finish on the day Christ Jesus will come again.

On our 40th day of lockdown, our barangay officials went from house to house to drop off some sustenance. This one’s ours.

Weeks earlier, the Village Homeowners Association gifted us with one whole piece of dressed chicken and the barangay dropped off rice such as the above and some canned goods.

The Israelites were on lockdown for 40 years in the desert (that's several years beyond one generation!), while we have been sequestered in our homes for just over two months.

We cannot complain. For every grace, we give thanks.

Hebrews 13:5 assures us, “Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’” (ESV)

Duplicity: Selective Grace

Grace, as defined in Scripture, is unmerited favor. When Christ was on Earth, He consistently bestowed grace upon all men: whoever they were, wherever they came from or went, whatever they said or did, and whomever they associated with.

Today, that grace-for-all is still for all.

The rain waters both weeds and grass; the air gives life to criminals and saints; the sun shines for the wicked and the righteous; the Earth is home to every individual born, no matter what race.

Grace, as mortals dispense it, is selective. We choose who will and won’t receive it from us. We decide who is deserving and who is not—based on our judgment.

Selective grace. Duplicity.

This has become so pronounced during this pandemic. The highest official of our land and his cabinet, all addressed “honorable,” have brazenly chosen the people who will receive grace from them and who will not.

While we ordinary mortals are reeling from the onslaught of the corona virus, obeying laws and rules, the implementors have broken these before our eyes: wear a mask; no big gathering; no alcohol; social distancing; plus more.

How can we not be outraged when officials who recklessly violated these laws got away scot free? 

A senator, positive for the virus, accompanied his wife to a hospital where he might have infected people, including the frontliners.

An OWWA undersecretary met with a large group of OFWs who were in quarantine.

The top police officer of the NCR, General Debold Sinas, celebrated his birthday with other officials and his men—wearing no masks, imbibing alcohol, enjoying a sumptuous meal minus social distancing, and worse, blatantly uploading photos of their revelry on their online page, and lying about them after these went viral. 

Our president went on air to emphasize once again, “The law is the law is the law. The rule is the rule is the rule. When you mess up with the law, I will see to it that you go to prison for your kalokohan niyo [misbehavior]."

Mang Dodong, a fisherman, went out of his house to purchase goods he would sell to feed his family.  Because he had no travel pass, he was arrested, jailed for 12 days, and was freed only after posting P3,500 bail, donated by a kind soul.

But in the same speech, His Excellency said and I quote,  “The law is the law. Well, akin na yun (that’s mine). It’s my responsibility but I will not order his (Gen. Sinas) transfer. He stays there, until further orders . . .”

Selective grace. Duplicity.

And so the general stays, ordering people to obey the same rules he violated.

There are many, many more poor citizens arrested, jailed, tortured (some killed) for violating a quarantine rule or saying something that hurt the feelings of His Excellency.

In Mang Dodong, we see them all. 

 

Photo credit: (ctto) grabbed from posts of various individuals online 

Pandemic of Questions

An unknown enemy, nicknamed by WHO as Covid-19, has come to assault, endanger, and inflict untold suffering upon humanity. It lurks stealthily and furtively in crevices, the air, and all possible surfaces and spaces. As of this writing, almost 400,000 people have died.

No one is spared in the world: black, white or in-between; infants, adults, or super seniors; very poor, middle poor/rich or filthy rich.

And so we are angry and distraught, asking skeptical questions.

Many have found grace to answer these questions on various platforms: social media, blogs, editorials, articles, interviews, etc. But the questions are asked over and over again.

To this end, OMF Lit took a step to help put people’s mind at rest: a FREE, downloadable e-book. (The printed edition will be available soon.) 

I was one of nine authors tapped to answer some of the questions. The other eight are:  

Bishop Efraim M. Tendero

Joyce Piap-Go

Jun Gonzaga

Nelson T. Dy

Nomer Bernardino

Nor Aquino-Gonzales

Ronald Molmisa

Rico Villanueva

On our knees, we prayed for  discernment and wisdom in writing answers, with the hope that we could offer our readers comfort and refreshment based on the Word. 

Download a copy and may you find in the book solace and consolation, even as we now live in a world we cannot control.    

omflit.com/whataboutcovd19 

Cyber Birthday Party

Our only grandson, Adrian, was going to turn 13, a milestone by any standard. Unfortunately, the corona virus pandemic crushed all odds for a celebration outside of the home.

So we did one better—celebrate outside of the country and time zone: Manila and the US, with 15 hours time difference. His mom organized an online chat with both her family and my son’s. Two sets of families plus the celebrant’s would get together at a certain hour!

The grandma in me got to work. What does one prepare for a big milestone? Food? Lechon? Cake? Balloons? Buntings? Costumes?

Alas, no shop was open for any of these.

Again, go for the better alternative: cyberspace.

And so we had a party, 12 thousand miles apart. Neither the sound nor the Internet connection cooperated, but the warmth and joy from both ends of the world were just a screen apart. Adrian blew the candles on his birthday cake, we sang him the birthday song, and said our birthday wishes.

His fave food when he's with us; pandemic-inspired b-day cake

No celebration in the Philippines is complete without a lechon.

Birthday blessings, dear Adrian. May you grow up in the Lord’s nourishing grace.

The celebrant, his parents, pet dog, cake, and two sets of Philippine families on screen

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24 (ESV)

Locked at 1,000

After abandoning my daily walks three years ago due to my curling toes, I thought I’d never experience walking at dawn again. But the corona virus lockdown emboldened me.

Being at home 24/7 with zero exercise is not good for the health. So with my face mask, I ventured onto the street to walk—gingerly and slowly lest my right toes would go berserk. And what do you know? I made it to a few meters without any pain.

So I dared more meters till I felt my toes begin to complain. All told, I was able to do 1,000 steps, 10% of what I used to make before my foot malady. But hey, 10% is better than none.

My writing regimen for my new book has taken a new turn. Because I am not time bound, I have chosen to limit my words to 1,000 per day so I could do other things—reading, listening to music, doing social media, watching TV, chatting on the phone, and simply idling. Little did I know that the number 1,000 is found in the Bible a few hundred times.

One of them is found in Mathew 5:41. Christians are required to walk two miles if compelled to walk a mile. In a commentary I read, Roman “mile” was made up of 1,000  paces (mille passuum) or steps.

The things you learn in a pandemic! And the things you see!

My quiet time is no longer rushed; I nurse it like a (refreshing ade) drink and savor grace, enabling me to reflect on these verses:

“Let all that I am wait quietly before God,
for my hope is in him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress where I will not be shaken.” 
(Psalm 62:5-6 NLT)

A Day in the Life

One of the Beatles’ best songs, A Day in the Life, combines the best of Lennon and McCartney. Lennon writes about disillusionment while McCartney speaks of optimism.

On social media, people are either disillusioned or optimistic over the Covid-19 lockdown. I like to stay with optimism. The corona virus crisis is an opportunity to thank God for His extraordinary grace that we would have missed under ordinary times.

Our day in the life: or how our lives have changed. (Other posts have the details. Blogging time, after all, is unlimited.) 

 

Tony, our two sons who live with us, and I break bread together and converse. I mean, really converse. We also plan the menu together—what should we order outside or what can we cook inside. 

First thing in the good morning, I do my morning walk (other post).

Then I print out crossword puzzles from the internet for Tony and me. Before the virus struck, mornings in our terrace were for sipping coffee, reading newspapers and solving their crosswords, but publications don’t reach our village anymore. And because we are forbidden to go out, we soak in books.

(On Sundays, we worship via livestreamed service and greet faith brethren online.)

After lunch, through the good afternoon, both sons and I camp inside my cramped writing room to share the AC. I work on my next book (other post), son #1 does some programming, and son #3 writes his doctoral dissertation. Tony, who is averse to AC, naps in our furnace-like bedroom.

Son #1 makes us iced coffee while we each face our computers/books. We keep in touch with son #2 and family who are in the US via digital gadgets. In fact, we just celebrated our only grandson’s birthday virtually (other post).

I send and receive many online messages. At no time have I kept in touch with so many people more than now.

Snacks (an ordered pizza or rice cake). Son #1 does his afternoon walk, son # does his fitness program with his trainer online.

After supper, we retreat to our bedrooms for our quiet time and the good night’s rest.

Tomorrow is another day in the life—to thank God for the good morning, good afternoon, and good night. 

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:7 (NIV)

Mother Lily

In a pressure cooker where I worked for two decades, Lily was the head of Personnel (Human Resource was still a mindless infant not knowing how to grow up).

An evolution happened beneath the surface: her name morphed to Mother Lily.

There is no historical record of how that came to be, but I have two hypothesis. One, “Mother” was the groovy way to call a boss. Two, there was an infamous Mother Lily in the movie industry.

What does it matter?

Anyone in all the world who checks attendance, calls you out for infraction, and reads to you the riot act is both feared and reviled. Mother Lily bore those onuses on her shoulders. Yet, again, beneath the surface, she was loved.

Outside of the office, she valued personal relationships and knew everyone—past and present—by name, even after the company closed and we all went our separate ways.

And then, social  media happened. It gathered many of the separated staff once more.  Somehow, we know how most of us are doing, and occasionally we schedule small face-to-face encounters.

Cocooned in our homes for almost two moths now because of the Covid-19 pandemic, we have time for things that are important, among which is the renewal of vows of friendship.

One of our former art directors, Ggie, messaged all those in her list of contacts, “This is for Mother Lily’s birthday. Please take a photo of yourself holding a blank sheet of paper to your chest. I need it now!”

Ggie posted this on the celebrant’s wall—a group photo of  grace: a touching reunion of separated friends.

To Mother Lily and all my dear friends in that happy land far away, once long ago . . .

Joint Celebration

“Nobody is exempt from _____________.”

I asked our group in adult Sunday school to fill in the blank with one word. Our answers were similar in mood: Sorrow. Trials. Problems. Fear. Sickness.

Timothy J. Keller (American theologian and author) seems to explain these answers with this quote, “Nobody is exempt from trials and tribulations. In fact this is what often happens to people God loves very much, for it is part of God’s often mysterious and good plan for turning us into something great.”

Starting with the fall of man, every person has had his share of grief. In Scripture—aside  from the book of Job and Lamentations—verses about grieving abound. On the flip side, we’ve all had our share of joy.

Grief and joy. They come together like a pair of scissors. One can’t work without the other. They're  back-to-back grace.

Golda Meir, past prime minister of Israel said, “Those who don’t know how to weep with their whole heart, don’t know how to laugh either.” 

Centuries earlier, Paul called us to a life of both sorrow and happiness—not just inside of our cocoon, but outside. In Romans 12:15, he wrote, “Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep.” 

By grieving with others, we would see the panorama of the Lord’s love for all. He accomplishes His purposes in us—and through others. Mourning only for our own loses is dwelling in self-pity, unable to comfort those who are also hurting.

God gives us the opportunity (an opportunity so pronounced in this Covid-19 pandemic) to enter other people’s lives so we could grieve with them and experience how the Lord leads us to a joint celebration.

Hello, Shorty!

The first in line—that’s where I belonged in school while everyone was growing up except me.

From elementary grade to college, and definitely in graduate school (because by then I was in the US straining my neck up to Americans), I was dwarfed by humanity. At that time, height shaming was not a crime, so those close to me would tease, “Hello, shorty!”

Before we reached our maximum height, my cousin Minna, with whom I saw eye-to-eye, and I would jump the highest during our family reunion on New Year’s Day; we believed what people said that if you did that, you’d grow taller.

They lied.

We both got vertically pegged at 5 feet (or barely). 

“Big things come in small packages,” my mom and Minna’s mom would say to make us feel better.  They added, “Think Cleopatra, or Queen Victoria, or Deng Xiaoping, or Jose Rizal.”   

To the rescue came clogs, then stiletto heels, then wedgies, then clunky mules, and then platform shoes. And there was that era when we seemed stretched because of the beehive hairdo. Indeed, we were way below the required height-line for many jobs (such as a stewardess or a beauty pageant contestant).

By grace, I married a tall man, with whom I have three tall sons, by my standards. That sealed my shorty stature, a fate I resigned to.     

But one glorious day, my grandson, Adrian, was born. He inherited my “shortest in the family” title and I reveled in my new position in the area of elevation. 

Till he came home for a vacation last year.

Now 12 years old, he has outgrown me by an inch or so. I say “or so” because when we hugged, I was wearing my cork espadrilles, yet, I had to tilt my head up to say, “Hello!” 

 

Well-mannered, respectful, and affectionate, Adrian did not gloat nor say, “Hello, shorty!”

Online Teaching

Online learning has been a way of life for me for quite sometime now. My library is the cyberspace. Much of the new things and information I know today came from the Net.

But online teaching?

This is something new that came with the Covid-19 pandemic. Classes cannot be stopped. But despite training from techie son #1 and IT in the university where I teach, I remain technologically challenged. For how long? Oh, maybe another 20 years. And that’s an educated guess.

There are just too many dizzying apps with too many varied icons to click—not necessarily in succession. You just need to continually risk making mistakes. And then there’s the intermittent power or Internet connection. Suddenly, your screen goes black. Suddenly, you don’t hear your audience’s voices anymore. Suddenly, your slides grow big and small like a yoyo. Suddenly, you need to go to another app. Suddenly, oh, gazillions of surprises! 

 Now, if this is where teaching is going, I think I need to consider a four-letter word—quit.

Yet, that’s a dilemma. I remember distinctly what Douglas MacArthur once wrote or said somewhere, “Age wrinkles the body. Quitting wrinkles the soul.

Body wrinkles I already have. But wrinkles of the soul?!

Please excuse me while I sing an old hymn:

Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that will pardon and cleanse within;
Grace, grace, God’s grace,
Grace that is greater than all our sin!  

Covid-19: Sob, the Flowers Wilted

One of my favorite spots at the SM mall in our neighborhood is the flower section—not to buy, because they are pricey, but to gawk. Some are arranged in baskets and vases. But some just sit there, waiting for someone to choose them, pay through her nose, in a bunch or apiece. 

Flowers have always fascinated me. That’s why, when nobody's looking, I brazenly paint them between writing marathons. On canvas, they stay fresh and don’t wilt.

 But sob, the flowers in the mall wilted.

All it took was Covid-19 to make them sag, slouch, slump, and stoop—a sorry sight. I would have loathed seeing the beautiful, expensive flowers devalued this way, but my friend Ggie sent me these photos when she was there for errands.

It was temporary grief, however. As I reflect on flowers, gifts of the King of grace for  you and me, I know they are blooming elsewhere—in parks, gardens, curbs, empty lots, and open fields—still looking up to their Creator.

Covid-19 may pass or stay. Flowers will waste away. Life will be gone any day, but this is God’s promise to those who believe . . . 

“. . . having been born again, not of corruptible seed but incorruptible, through the word of God which lives and abides forever, because

“All flesh is as grass,

And all the glory of man as the flower of the grass.

The grass withers,

And its flower falls away,

But the word of the Lord endures forever.” 

1 Peter 1:23-25 (NKJV)

Silence: Sealing off Grace

While on lockdown, the words I post on social media are carefully crafted to extol or call down an issue. As a citizen wanting only what's best for the country, I participate in national conversations.

Then suddenly, in our church prayer concerns, one item said, "May we act in solidarity to combat Covid-19 instead of complaining and criticizing the government."

“Instead of . . .” that made me feel sad. Because it is not a choice between being in solidarity and being gagged in silence. They are not mutually exclusive. We need to do both. Governments draw wisdom from people's complaints and criticisms, especially during pandemic.

This feeling I could not put into words without hurting the author of the list.

Then on page 121 of the book I am reading, Philip Yancey’s What Good Is God?, the author wrote the words I could not express.

Let me quote Yancey (emphases mine):

“I write honestly . . . even through it may cause others pain. I would hope that readers call me down on my own inconsistencies and exaggerations . . . I know of no more honest book than the Bible, which tells the ugly truth about its main protagonists [think of Moses, David, Peter, Paul] as well as the church to carry on the tradition.

“In contrast, the Pharisees and their kin exhibit one persistent flaw: an inability to take criticism.

“People and institutions naturally want to present themselves in the best light and thus we rationalize or cover up mistakes. When we do so we move away from authenticity toward the very dangers Jesus warned against, in the process sealing off grace.”

My personal belief: while Christians must follow government rules to the last drop during the Covid-19 quarantine, we should not stay silent.

We need to question inconsistencies, lies, blasphemy, unfulfilled promises, foul language, character assassination, unpreparedness, corruption, vulgarity, and more. Lives are at stake.

Otherwise, the authorities will think everything they are doing is right. And we become accomplices to what is wrong, enemies of authenticity, which Jesus preached, and seal off His grace.

Let me end by quoting Dr. Rico Villanueva who wrote in Inquirer, "I find the fact that God allows His people to ask him 'why?' empowering, especially during this time when some of our leaders do not allow any form of complaint. If God can be questioned, why can’t we do the same with our leaders? Are they higher than God? (Doc Rico finished his Ph.D. in the Old Testament from the UK and teaches Sacred Scripture at the Ateneo and the Asia Graduate School of Theology.) 

Covid-19 and ECQ: Excruciating?

I have used the word excruciating only a few times in my life. 

These were when the world was at its darkest: seeing my dad suffer from cancer and eventually losing him; losing a newborn son; losing Tony's only brother to drug overdose; losing my mom to heart failure; losing my mom-in-law and sis-in-law one month apart; hearing the doctor’s prognosis about my husband’s condition (four times, within a few years, close to dying); and less than a dozen more.

Excruciating—meaning, a combination of extreme agony, unbearable torture, and  intense pain—is hardly used in a faith-based life. God’s comforting grace always lifts you up from the pits. That I’ve always believed.

But it was only last Good Friday, in our livestreamed worship service amidst an enhanced community quarantine (ECQ), when I realized why.

To illustrate Jesus’ supreme sacrifice for sinful man, Pastor Ariel’s message was hinged on the scourge. It is the whip, made of several pieces of leather with lead embedded on each strand, used to inflict the worst penalty on innocent Jesus before His crucifixion.

From the pulpit, he graphically described how scourging could have damaged Jesus’ shoulders, back, and legs. (A scourge cuts through the skin, and as the blows continue, its ends cut deeper, till blood oozes from the veins. Finally, the skin hangs in ribbons and the entire body is an unrecognizable mass of scrap.)

The savage cruelty continued at His crucifixion.

Can you imagine anything more painful? Excruciating comes from the Latin word excruciare, from cruciare, to crucify. It means, “a pain like the pain of crucifixion.”

The physical pain Jesus endured was surpassed only by the emotional pain He felt at being betrayed by the people He loved and being forsaken by God. And yet, His first words were, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” (Luke 23:34 NKJV)

On that Good Friday, I learned that when I am tempted to use the word excruciating, I will look back to the crucifixion. And I will remember that no human pain can ever be big enough (not even the curse of Covid-19 and the ECQ) to match what Jesus went through for me.

A Quarantined Birthday

A is my nephew—not by blood but by bond, a mighty bond of shared faith. He’s a kind, caring, and helpful kid (I call everyone kid in our church because I saw them grow up) whose heart is almost as big as the sun. 

On top of all the things he does to assist church workers, he volunteers to drive his huge, white van for everyone in our place of worship who does not have a ride. He fetches indigent kids on Sundays so they could attend junior church and Sunday school. This is not to mention his, “Anything I can do for you, Tita?” when he sees me walking around. I could go on. 

I write about him now because he outdid himself on his birthday a few days back. 

Because of the Covid-19 lockdown, it is not possible to have any form of event gathering that involves people other than family.

 

But A chose to celebrate his birthday with people in his circle.

With his parents, he dropped by our house to share his blessings—grace that would have been served on a table if he were free to celebrate his milestone. No prolonged conversation, just a brief "hi" and "goodbye." They dropped by other homes, too, as posted by church mates on social media later.

While under quarantine for two more weeks, united only via livestreamed worship services and  prayers, may we find beautiful ways—as A did—to hold each other up and fight off our anxiety over the invisible enemy that has suddenly plunged the world in total chaos.

“Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near." (Hebrews 10:24-25 NLT)

Covid-19: Are We in the Same Boat?

Rich or poor, young or old, male or female—everyone is a prey of the virulent virus called Covid-19. So are we in the same boat?

No, we’re not.

Just a cursory glance at photos and posts on mass and social media shows two separate and different boats.

Boat A is made of sturdy and expensive materials, and motorized. If you stay inside, the virus can’t get you.

Boat B is makeshift, improvised. It’s made whole only by patches of wood scraps. If you stay in it, it can capsize, leak, and sink even before the virus can get you.

These boats emerged simultaneously after the lockdown was announced. Boat A, with all its resources knew where to go. Boat B, with its meager resources suddenly cut, could not find its way.

“We’re all in this together,” our lawmakers tried to ram that down our throat. In fact, they crafted a law called “Bayanihan to Heal as One Act,” which gave the president emergency powers to equally serve everyone quickly.

So can we heal as one, even if we’re not in the same boat?

A poem that went viral spoke of staying home, reading books, exercising, making art and playing games.

On the other hand, a series of posts continue to speak of going to bed on empty stomachs, crying of hunger, and waiting and waiting for any dole out—perhaps some grains of rice and anything edible?

These photos (ctto) tell the story better than words.   

Are we in the same boat?

Not the way it looks. The only chance we can live with the thought is to accept, by faith and by grace, what Scripture says.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6 ESV)

Photos: all borrowed from the Internet 

Mother Teresa in a Time of Pandemic

Since we lost Ate Vi, our lifelong househelp, we had a quick succession of others who took their job half-seriously and left unceremoniously. Househelps have become a thing of the past. Housework, which is not my strong suit, enslaved and pulled me away from reading and writing. 

But one day, Teresa knocked on our door and said she could work for us three times a week.  She’d come in early and leave late. We didn’t know her from Adam, but we were desperate and she seemed sincere.

Teresa turned out to be unexpected grace dropped from above. Three times a week, this struggling single mother of five, masquerading as a warrior, would clean and sanitize every nook and cranny of our house, wash and iron our clothes, change our curtains and linens, sort out our things inside cabinets, tend to the garden, etc. It felt as though Ate Vi resurrected.

Until the Covid-19 pandemic.

Because of the strict implementation of the quarantine, Teresa asked us if she could stay in till after the lockdown?

If this isn’t manna from heaven, what is? Before us was Mother Teresa personified. She came to serve the poor in spirit, four dependent individuals and five pets marooned in a house that needs daily caring.

It’s been three weeks since she moved in, freeing us to do our work online while she sees to the details of our daily needs. Mother Teresa sends her pay to her children who have children of their own but have nothing to feed them because their jobs are on hold.

Picture her family as one of these people, not knowing what social distancing means because they are hungry.

Feel her anguish, her helplessness, her frustration because help from the government has been slow or has not come at all. Listen to her gratitude that she has a job, food to eat, and a temporary home where she is needed, loved, and appreciated. 

I weep and pray for all the mother Teresas in many homes today. Lord, help us to find ways to serve them in return.

"And don’t forget to do good and to share with those in need. These are the sacrifices that please God." Hebrews 13:16 (NLT)

Photo credit: https://verafiles.org/articles/hunger-does-not-know-social-distancing

What’s Social Distancing?

In a crisis—especially a pandemic—everything is urgent. It is vital to use simple words that can readily be understood by everyone.  Euphemisms such as “social distancing” are for ordinary times. From explaining the phrase to finally understanding it, many lives could have already been lost.

Social distancing, in essence, means: not seeing anybody anymore; breaking up friendships; not having anything to do with some people; reducing one’s social obligations; being a recluse; praying alone instead of praying with faith brethren, etc.

Why can’t we use "physical distancing" instead? I asked myself from the very beginning because that was what we wanted people to do—stay physically far away from each other to avoid contamination. Physical distancing can be easily understood by anyone—regardless of age or educational attainment.

I thought I was alone in this “nit-picking” until I read an article that said, “Experts prefer ‘physical distancing,’ and the WHO agrees.”

Daniel Aldrich, a professor of political science and public policy at Northeastern University, is concerned that the term could be counterproductive. He explained that it is  misleading, because the pandemic should encourage strengthening social ties while maintaining physical distancing.

He gave as an example, “People running errands for elderly neighbors practice social connectedness with physical distance.”

Indeed, social ties (not distances) can get us through any kind of trouble. We create all kinds of support groups for various medical and societal problems, don’t we?

In The Washington Post, I read that WHO has started using the term “physical distancing.” The organization wants people—even if they are far apart physically—to still remain connected.

Social connections are necessary to heal and recover. It’s like sharing the grace that we receive instead of hogging it all to ourselves.

“So encourage each other and build each other up . . .” 1 Thessalonians 5:11 (NLT)

King David’s Quarantine

(Reflections on God’s message: Peace over Fear, through Pastor Ariel, on my computer screen.)

David was afraid for his life, just as we are today with the Covid-19 pandemic. He put himself in  quarantine to flee from his son, Absalom, who wanted to kill him so he could be king.

In Psalm 42, we hear David’s cry. Detached from God’s house of worship, he is fearful. He is depressed. He laments over all the troubles he has endured; he longs for God’s presence.

Doesn’t this parallel our fears while imprisoned at home, following guidelines on the lockdown? How can we achieve peace?

Like David, we are grumbling and growling. We are frustrated staying home. We grieve over the deaths of front liners. We are angry over the mistakes of authorities. We hate the cursing on social media. “Don’t go down the negative road,” our pastor stressed, “stop listening to yourself.”

While listening to our fearful selves, we give a space for the enemy to make us even more fearful: “Say goodbye to your business, your job, your finances, your loved ones, if not yourself.”

But.

Because of David’s deep faith in God, he shifted his thoughts and started talking to himself (verse 5), “. . . Why is my heart so sad? I will put my hope in God! I will praise him again—my Savior and my God!”

“Encourage yourself with God’s voice,” Pastor Ariel urged us. “Talk not in a political or medical way—talk to yourself in a Biblical way.”

We need to look back to those days when God upheld our Bible heroes (Abraham, Moses, Joseph, Paul, etc.) in ancient past. Let us remember those times when God did the same for us and our family: He never left us and He poured His generous grace upon us.

God is alive and is with us in our quarantine places . . . so together we prayed and sang this hymn: 

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. 
Because He lives, My fears are gone. 

Peace, not fear.

(Thank You, Lord, for all faith brethren who made the live streaming possible. Thank You for technology that enables us to worship You and listen to Your word wherever we are. Amen.)    

Somniloquy

I talk and make sounds in my sleep. Weird?

This condition is called somniloquy, defined in medical dictionaries as: a parasomnia that refers to talking aloud while asleep. It can be quite loud, ranging from simple mumbling sounds to loud shouts and long, frequently inarticulate speeches, and can occur many times during a sleep cycle. It usually affects men and children.

I am not a man, neither am I a child anymore. But this condition has started to occur maybe ten years ago. Then, it was few and far between. But as I grow wiser (euphemism for aging), it has become quite frequent.

 I was alarmed big time: Is there a deep psychological problem or trauma that is haunting me?

“Nothing to be afraid of,” my doctor said. “When we go to sleep, our sound system shuts off. But for some people, it stays ajar, so sounds—most of the time incoherent—seep through.”

I didn’t believe her until my sister, who had lived with our mother in her later years, told me that Mom had the same condition. That revelation made me feel better. It is genetic!

Now I worry less, except when Tony is awakened by my ramblings and couldn’t go to sleep after that. He loses sleep while I enjoy mine.

During my out-of-town trips for book talks, I fear that my somniloquy would disturb whomever is assigned as my roommate. So I explain my malady in great detail ahead of time.

Those who have sleeping disorders (maybe of a different nature) like I have, don’t fret. Grace enables us to face the new day. These verses helped me through mine.

“No need to panic over alarms or surprises, or predictions that doomsday’s just around the corner, Because God will be right there with you; he’ll keep you safe and sound.” Proverbs 3:25-26 (The Message)

Dye or Die

Itchiness is non-life threatening, but it is totally infuriating. If it runs amok on your scalp, it could turn a perfect day into a total chaos.

Imagine being dressed in your best finery, or talking to some important bigwigs, or lecturing before a roomful of professionals, and suddenly you need to scratch your head—not daintily but vigorously because the urge to scratch is irresistible.  

These horrible scenarios are real and put me in crisis mode for the last two months. Concerned friends suggested balms and different shampoos. Nothing worked.

Finally someone said, “Stop dying your hair.”

No way, that is not an option. In fact, I dyed my hair that day because my gray hair roots screamed, “Dye now!”

And so the itching continued. Montaigne wrote, “Scratching is one of the sweetest gratifications of nature, and as ready at hand as any.” But Tony put his foot down, "Go and see a dermatologist.”

My beautiful dermatologist, impeccably made-up, coiffed, and dressed, said in a soothing, smiling voice, “Seborrheic dermatitis.”

That sounded lethal, so I exclaimed, “If you tell me not to dye, I’ll die!”

She laughed, “No, I will not let you die.”

She then prescribed a lotion, which cost me half of my bank account, to be applied to my scalp for one week before bedtime and anti-histamine pills.  “Try not to scratch when you feel an itch. Because the more you scratch, the more you itch. It’s called the scratch-itch cycle. If the  itching continues, come back.”

It’s been a week, and the itching has lessened, perhaps because I have resisted scratching the itch. And I am due for my next dye. My dermatologist was true to her word—she did not let me die.

Worship from Home

A menace called Covid-19 has spread its venom all over the world. As of last count, there are almost half a million people afflicted (380 in the country) and over 13,000 deaths. Measures such as country lockdown are in place to contain the virus and widespread fear.

Age-old schedules such as our Sunday worship in church have been derailed.

Today, so as to obey government guidelines, I reluctantly worshiped from home. But it was a decision I will neither forget nor regret in my life.

It was a glorious experience, grace beyond measure. Together with church mates who likewise  stayed home and those who opted to be in church physically, I felt connected with all faith brethren via live streaming and real-time messages on social media.

We sang, prayed, and listened to God’s message together. It was like being  in one room, a community worship that was also deeply personal. Through our Pastor, I heard Jesus say these assuring words to me:

    • I will take care of you.
    • Faith is dependence on Me. TOTAL dependence.
    • Fortify your faith; then fear will leave you.
    • Restoration in the Philippines will come. But it must begin on your knees, in prayer. 
    • Everything is better with Me, including a virus. Faith is not denial. You need  to deal with the problem—there is a problem—but focus on Me.
    • Attack this problem with worship, so that the problem will NOT attack you with worry.
    • Fear makes you indecisive; when you are fearful, you cannot decide properly.
    • In your fear, I say, "Trust Me!”
    • This is the day of salvation; come to Jesus—come to Me.

Today, too, many churches in the globe went online. What an impact to viewers!

Someone posted this message, “Many people were reached; they heard the good news about Christ and their lives will be changed & transformed. God took what the enemy meant to separate us and turned it around to unite us.”

(Note: almost 600 people viewed our livestreamed service, six times bigger than our regular church attendance.)

“And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.” (Matthew 24:14 NIV)