We Wear PINK on June 30, 2022

This announcement must have passed my socmed wall a hundred times from different kakampinks since mid-June. What's so important about today? It is the swearing in of our voting-machine-anointed president. 

And so I wear PINK. 

Rather, my blog site, which reflects my swirling thoughts (I write PINK blogs to talk to myself; it's my self-prescribed therapy for post-election syndrome) wears PINK. 

Today, too, VP Leni steps down to begin Angat Buhay NGO tomorrow as citizen Leni. Words are unnecessary, except for a most heartfelt thanksgiving to the One whose grace enables us to keep working—and safeguarding our hope—for a rosy/healthy Philippines.

"I will praise God’s name in song and glorify him with thanksgiving." (Psalm 69:30) 

PINK Flowers for Gene

Just before the presidential election, Gene sent me a photo of a lovely pink flower via Messenger with this note: “My first-ever collection of multi-petals adenium . . . for VP Leni for President!” 

“Oh, wow!” I gushed, “I wish I had a green thumb, too!” 

He replied, “If there were a garden in Heaven for flowering plants, I'd like to be one of the gardeners.” 

Perhaps he got his wish. The Lord welcomed Gene to His heavenly garden last week. He was 71. 

Gene was a dear friend and a colleague. A respected professor, he was my chat-mate in the faculty room about grace, our common faith, and ministries.  We lost touch for sometime, with the pandemic and all, but somehow, during the presidential campaign, we met again—online. He got in touch with me after reading my posts and told me he was a kakampink. 

Cyberspace enables friends to say “hello” again, and alas, “goodbye” again.

He did not reply to my last message so I wondered how he was doing. Upon visiting his socmed page, I was shocked to read about what happened. A neighbor narrated that Gene was found unconscious in his garden and was rushed to the hospital. A few days later, he was gone. 

I last saw Gene years ago, but our recent exchange of messages about our shared vision for our country made me feel like we were still in the faculty room, this time around, talking about politics and flowers. 

In memory of Gene, I made a collage of unusual PINK flowers, which I am sure he would have loved to plant in his garden. I am uploading it today, PINK Wednesday, because we, along with other kakampinks, always greeted each other on a day such as this.  

So long, Gene. Till we meet again—at the Lord’s home with its lovely garden! 

“Our days on earth are like grass; like wildflowers, we bloom and die.  The wind blows, and we are gone—as though we had never been here.” (Psalm 103:15-16 NLT) 

PINK NGO: Politicians vs. Statesmen

James Freeman Clarke, an American theologian and author, wrote in the 1800s, “A politician thinks of the next election; a statesman, of the next generation.” 

Two years before the election, most politicians start laying the groundwork for their campaign. They expose themselves to media and public gatherings. When election comes, their names have top-of-mind recall. The list of elected senators shows well-known names. 

Now, how about politicians salivating for the presidency? How long is prep time for a sure win? From news reports and commentaries, our country’s winner hired the services of a well-known British consulting firm to plot out a campaign that would deodorize, revise, and re-brand his and his family’s 36-year reputation.  

Compare this with VP Leni’s and the PINK campaign birthed by people who believe in her advocacies and integrity. She declared her candidacy only in October, with no previous strategies and implementation plans. Everything was organic, funded by grace, and supported by volunteers for a total of only 6 months.  

How does that compute?  

Well, politics is short ranged. It begins and ends with the politicians’ term of office. So where can we find statesmen—those who think long term and are concerned about the future?  

We find them in NGOs (Non-Government Organizations), community-based or grassroots groups that help improve people’s lives with concrete programs, instead of dole outs. They help victims of society’s ills such as sexual abuse, child labor, human rights violations, etc.

    

This was what VP Leni announced at her thanksgiving rally, attended by thousands of grieving kakampinks, as the election numbers took shape, “We will launch an Angat Buhay NGO and it would the widest volunteer network in the country's history.”

Angat Buhay is the flagship anti-poverty program of the Office of the Vice President, which is also the slogan of her campaign: “Gobyernong Tapat, Angat Buhay lahat.”  

There are about 60,000 registered NGOs in the Philippines. Therefore, there are thousands of statesmen whose names are unknown. Many NGO members are retired politicians who saw up close their constituents’ needs and now, outside of government, are able to help them more. 

These statesmen will be joined by soon-to-be-ex-VP Leni, on the first day she becomes citizen Leni, July 1, five days from now.    

Some people argue that perhaps she was not born to be a politician but a statesman. 

Whatever. This much I know—the over 15 million votes (the number assigned by Comelec) who believe in the concept of PINK, not as a color but as a mindset, will again volunteer to give their best to the Angat Buhay NGO as they did to the campaign.

Many verses in the Bible (NLT) remind us to be statesmen: 

“Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2) 

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

PINK Team Redefined

“Needed ASAP! An off-the-wall advertising idea for my beleaguered brand,” the client directed the ad agency creative director (CD).  

The CD rushed back to his office and organized two teams (five members each). He explained to them what was needed. “You have four hours.” 

Team A decided that everyone must speak his mind—no holds barred; no judgments. While listing down their ideas (some corny, some hackneyed, some gross), they laughed and bantered. Then someone said, “Hey there’s something there! What if . . ."   

". . . let’s twist it a little so . . .” added another. 

After four hours, they had three brilliant and viable concepts which everyone helped to develop. Nobody took the credit; everyone owned all three.

Team B, in contrast, emphasized unity. They had to be unified to beat Team A. Afraid that his/her idea might not be good enough, nobody—except the most vocal one—put anything on the table. After four hours, they presented the only one idea credited to the one who suggested it. 

This memory of long ago came back to me during the presidential campaign. 

Team A exemplified the PINK way, where everyone’s idea and thought bubble was respected. In fact, VP Leni was criticized for doing an ad (Hadouken ) that made her look “ridiculous” according to some quarters. 

Her explanation, “It was the least I could do for those who gave their all to the concept.”  

Hers was an act of gratitude, of teaming up, which took priority over what critics might say. As a result, hundreds of jingles, poems, songs, dances, blogs, paintings, drawings, sculptures, and presentations were produced by volunteers from and for all demographics. 

As a former ad gal, I was not used to this kind of attitude and communication process. We either followed one united voice for a brand, or bust. 

Yet, this was what charmed me most about the PINK team. It redefined teamwork in politics. Although this style (or non-style) was harshly lambasted by communication veterans of old—pointed to this “crazy mix-up” as the cause of the PINK loss—I learned another important lesson in grace, which in fact is the essence of my faith:    

In numbers (as fed to us by Comelec), this is the PINK team. 

This number may have lost, but it is still formidable. If those who are a part of it will do exactly as they  did during the campaign, we could change our country for the better. 

Our goal, as represented by our logos, is to listen to all voices expressing the same goal in various ways, so that we can lift each other up for a rosy future. 

Naivete? Martyrdom? Idealism? Romance? 

I think not. It is an idea ahead of its time in Philippine politics. 

This redefinition of a political team was exactly what the PINK movement promised: “Sa Gobyernong Tapat, Angat Buhay Lahat.” (Under an honest and efficient government, everyone will have a better life.) 

"For the body is not one member, but many." (1 Corinthians 12:14 NLT)

PFF: PINK Friends Forever

People have defined friend in countless ways. 

“A true friend never gets in your way unless you happen to be going down.” Arnold H. Glasow

“Friendship . . . is born at the moment when one man says to another 'What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .'” C.S. Lewis

“A true friend encourages us, comforts us, supports us like a big easy chair, offering us a safe refuge from the world.” H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Likewise, countless songs have been written about friends—all of them enabling. James Taylor’s You’ve Got a Friend is one of my favorites: 

"When you're down and troubled

And you need a helping hand . . .

You’ve got a friend." 

This I sang after an online meet-up with kakampinks in one of my many Group Chats on FB. All eight of us, old friends who have been separated by time and space for years, got together again virtually during the presidential campaign, which resulted in a fiasco.  So we needed to de-stress, and one hour later, we were each other’s helping hand. 

PFF. It's being on the same wavelength and having shared values, shared vision, and shared commitment for a better country (our term: rosy). 

And like receiving a bunch of over 600 PINK roses, I have been blessed with additional virtual kindred souls. These new friendships blossomed when a powerful question was silently asked, What? You too?

I will probably never meet them in person, but we are PINK Forever Friends as we continue to communicate about our dreams for the Philippines, encourage, help, pray for one another; exchange inspiring thoughts; and to never give up on what we have begun. 

(In contrast, I have blocked thrice that number of FB netizens for cursing, lying, insulting, belittling, and sowing hatred. Like noxious and repulsive weeds, they keep sprouting—so I keep blocking.)

Having PFF is indeed like being nestled in a big easy chair (Brown Jr.'s metaphor), a safe place from a cruel, stressful world of paid trolls rooting for what should never be. 

Heartwarming anecdotes, woven in grace, experienced during the rallies and other events—and even simply meeting someone in PINK anywhere—bred (and continue to breed) instant camaraderie and connections. In my case, as I hardly go out, in cyberspace.  

“So encourage each other and build each other up, just as you are already doing.” (1 Thessalonians 5:11 NLT)

Rhodophobia: Fear of PINK

Funny? It should be. In the context of the PINK campaign, this should be hilarious. 

This is not meant to trivialize phobias, because they exist and cause great mental anguish. A phobia is a serious matter as it can happen along with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). If someone is traumatized by an event associated with anything, it results in an intense fear of it. 

But fear of the color PINK?! 

Trolls are paid an enormous amount of money to demonize VP Leni, who personified this color during the presidential campaign, on all media 24/7. Fake news, spliced videos, manufactured sex scenes and numbers, photoshopped images, malevolent caricatures, and all kinds of vitriol—name it, they had everything, including the kitchen sink, thrown at her and anyone PINK. To my deep anguish, I was not spared from curses and unspeakable language because of my favorable comments about VP Leni’s advocacies and platforms.  

These unprecedented and orchestrated maneuvers of a most evil kind could only be caused by fear of the PINK wave.

But why? All cards are stacked in their favor.   

Power: Political bigwigs, then and now, have banded together for them.  

Numbers:  Their votes, as released by Comelec, are more than twice those of the lady's. 

Money:  According to trolls, they have tons of gold. The lady had only PINK volunteers who offered their services free and spent for materials and logistics.  

Unity: That was their singular promise to voters during the campaign. The implementation should now be in place. 

This intense fear, although disguised as extreme hatred, comes from somewhere. They know what it is, and it's eating them up.  

VP Leni has been serving the marginalized, and always quick to come to the recue of disaster victims, for so many years. Instead of gratitude, the scared cabal gave the lady nicknames like “fake VP” “lutang” “madumb” “bobo” “tanga” “mistress” and many more unprintable barbs.  

So, okay, the election is over. The trolls’ candidate for president has been acknowledged as winner by  the voting machines. It should be the end of the story, right? 

Wrong. This fear has worsened. More than ever, the massive trolling has intensified—all of the lady's activites and messages are twisted to make her look brainless and useless. The PINK wave must be really terrifying; they're shaking in their boots. 

It’d be so easy for us to say “Woe unto those who suffer from rhodophobia!” 

But VP Leni begs us not to do what they do. She wants us to push back and straighten out  misinformation—in ways that enlighten, inspire, educate, and heal. Tough order. 

If you are a kakampink, you and I know that the easiest way to push back is to give the haters a dose of their own medicine (please pardon the cliché). But then, again, we live by grace and help promote good values. We are PINK. 

We are not the same.

“Don’t do as the wicked do, and don’t follow the path of evildoers. Don’t even think about it; don’t go that way. Turn away and keep moving.” (Proverbs 4:14-15 NLT)

photo credit: https://www.pinterest.ph/pin/1900024812985288/ 

PINK On and Fly Free

“Move on!” The red camp taunts us, as if it were a heinous crime to speak about the presidential election. It’s a phrase meant to muzzle those who want to ferret out the truth.  

I say, “Pink on!” 

Pinking on is moving forward with a tight grip on grace. The past, fraught with documented atrocities, cannot be dropped. Forgiving and forgetting misdeeds that caused ignorance and impunity cannot be legislated, especially when facts are big as life. 

Only when truth becomes our guiding principle in governance can we fly free as we should in a democracy.  

It’s ironic how “move on” makes me and kakampinks (kindred spirits) vividly remember, especially those that happened 36 years ago. My friend Marian uploaded a photo of her treasured books about Martial Law and other important events during the dark periods of our history. These are literature the younger generation ought to read! 

After clicking a heart emoji, I was surprised when she messaged me back, “Grace, Fly, Malaya, Fly! is displayed proudly too!” 

It sure is—side-by-side with books that document how we lost our freedom. 

Fly, Malaya, Fly! is a children’s book which I co-wrote with my then 10-year-old son #3 and illustrated by Longlong Pesquira. It’s about letting a bird, Malaya (free) fly safe—our dream for everyone in this country: be free from the miseries of poverty (both economically and morally), caused by power-and-money-hungry leaders who run for office not for the people but for themselves. 

Young as he was, son #3 joined an essay writing contest, which won him a prize. As I had just retired from the workplace, I re-worked it with him, to further emphasize that birds are meant to soar high, not caged or hunted. 

The book was published by Caltex Philippines through Marian (then the Communications Manager)  for the Philippine Eagle Foundation "to ensure the survival of the Philippine Eagle, the biodiversity it represents, and the sustainable use of our forest resources for future generations to enjoy.” 

At the same hour when we were launching Fly, Malaya, Fly! in Davao, President Erap was deposed and was exiting from Malacanang—an event that dramatized our being malaya from a head of state found unfit to lead us.  

The book mirrors the aspirations of the song Bayan Ko (My Dear Country) composed in 1929, when Filipinos were struggling for independence from colonizers. Based on a poem by Jose Corazon de Jesus, the lyrics are a prayer of a people caged for over 400 years. The words likened the Philippines—a nest of tears and poverty—to a bird set free.

Today, June 12, we celebrate our Independence Day. Let's pink on and fly.

With courage, authors need to write more and the youth need to read books about our past. Alas, some of my author friends have been red-tagged for children’s books about dictatorship.  But we cannot allow our country to be locked-up again, not by lies and historical revisionism, financed by money stolen from us. 

“The righteous keep moving forward, and those with clean hands become stronger and stronger.” (Job 17:9 NLT)

Detox Farm and PINK Pleasures

Toxins from the bloody presidential election held three weeks earlier were coming out of our ears.  

Son #3 noticed that these were causing us—especially his aging parents—unnecessary anxiety, and declared we all needed detoxification. 

“My treat,” he said and booked an overnight stay in a farm in Bali, Indonesia on Philippine soil. 

What I remember of Bali, where I once attended a meeting, are all at Dewi Sri Farm, only better. Everything is natural—from hydroponically grown veggies and fruits to organically fed fish, chickens, and cattle. 

The air is pollution free as the farm is tucked in a 10-hectare lot away from the highway. And because it is in Laguna, where the soil is richer than many places in Metro Manila, all flora and fauna are ten times bigger, taller, and healthier than what we have in our garden. 

That blissful and peaceful weekend, we were the only guests—just Tony, two sons, and me. We claimed all as our own—the swimming pool, gazebo, fish pond, birds in the air, animals freely roaming around, and all other areas that the two boys toured on young, sturdy legs. Tony and I pretty much kept ourselves around the Indonesian villa. 

A surprise bonus: PINK pleasures were here and there—the décor, art pieces, flowers, and leaves. Why, even the tilapia was PINK! 

Beside the swimming pool, while the cicadas sang, the geckos rasped, and the birds chirped, I had a spirited chat with the farm manager, who is a kakampink. We reminisced about the campaign, and how it inspired volunteerism and awakened love for country. 

“I am looking forward to the Angat Buhay NGO,”  he said, “so I can help the needy with citizen Leni leading us.”  Like me, this is the first time he has ever participated in a political campaign in his life, although he had been a student leader in a state university. 

PINK made its presence felt. 

Whether in a toxic environment or a detox farm, hope occupies a space. With detoxified ears and eyes, we can clearly hear and see it, and appreciate the grace it brings. 

". . . if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work." (2 Timothy 2:21 ESV)

Look for the (PINK) Star

An 85-year-old lady was asked by her daughter what her plan was for the PINK parol (star lanterns) hanging from their tree after Comelec announced the election results.  

“Leave them there. If they fade, replace them. So when things go bad, people will know we stood for what is right,” she replied. 

That, in sum, was one FB post of a kakampink, which my friend Joan forwarded to me with this message, “This made me think of your book, Look for the Star." 

Yes, the similarity is uncanny. 

Look for the Star is about hope—hope for an intemperate son to come back home where the big star, a metaphor for love, awaits unconditionally. In our Bible, the magi followed the star of Bethlehem which led them to the Hope of mankind. 

This book (published by Hiyas of OMF Lit and illustrated by Beth Parrocha-Doctolero) was awarded the ASEAN Grand Prize in a children’s book competition in Singapore by judges of different nationalities. Hope resonates with everyone, no matter where he comes from.  

Before Joan sent me this post, we had already taken down our PINK stars (over 50 of them in all sizes, hanging from trees around our house).  Mulling over the 85-year-old woman’s stand, I teared up (as I often do these days; please indulge me), and decided to hang one star again, “so if things go wrong, people will know we stood for what is right.”   

 When we first ordered bulk materials for campaign giveaways, we told the delivery boy, “Just look for the house with PINK stars.” 

He complained, “Almost all houses in your village have PINK stars!” Hope was ablaze then.   

But hope seems to hide now after a heartbreaking loss. Only the PINK stars in photos remind us that HOPE has not left.  

In Look for the Star, there was no way a delinquent boy would return home after many years. But his parents never took the star down, till he found his way back.   

By grace, hope is found in the heart of people who will never take the star down, because they don't give up. Believing they are on the side of good, they know that one day, the unenlightened, waylaid sons will look for the star. 

“We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed." (2 Corinthians 4:8-9)  

Will PINK Still Glow? Will Light Still Shine?

Here she was, peacefully retired, free from migraine and acid reflux, waking up any time of day or night, receiving her SSS pension, augmented by freebies from three sons, and doing the one thing she has always wanted to do if she had the time—writing. 

Time she finally had. 

No need to dress up, smudge eye shadows, blow-dry hair, meet with staff, evaluate output, and be nice, exceedingly nice.  

Charmed, comfy life. Like peacefully waiting for her flight home in the departure lounge.   

That was upended one day in October 2021, as the pandemic lulled. She rushed back to the ticket counter, changed her flight for a war zone, braved the air pockets, seized the seat of an adventurous youth.    

That one day was when VP Leni announced her candidacy for the presidency, and the retiree is moi. 

I refer to myself in the third person because I can’t slip back to where I was ensconced anymore. Not yet anyway. 

That change-of-flight took me to a place I have never been before: a political campaign. 

What pushed me? 

HOPE. I had hoped that this country, which has been flogged fiercely by foul language, curses, EJK, arrogance, inefficiency (especially during the pandemic), and cover-ups of suspected anomalies (i.e. Pharmally), could morph into a good place, if led by honest and hard-working leaders who demonstrate good values.

PINK campaign it was called, because the team had an eight-pronged workable platform toward a rosy future. 

I got reunited with old BFFs and met new pals as we worked harmoniously together, financing our own expenses, wearing different hats but heading toward one direction. It was exhilarating, but bloody.

In the workplace, not even the meanest meanies ever cursed or wished me dead. 

“F%#! you, go home to China where you will be with murderers like Mao.”  

“I hope you get cancer and die! $%#@” 

“Madumb, the color of rose is red, not PINK.” 

Plus many more unmentionables. 

Grace held me (us) up. 

The result was even more bloody. The team that offered hope was assigned low numbers, a twisted plot that will never be unraveled.   

And so I grieve. But this heartwarming art work by Tarantadong Kalbo unites those who stood up; it’s comforting. It is now my screen saver. 

I am concerned, however, about the youth (my nieces and nephews included), whose love of country was ignited. Now with eyes wide open, they educated the uninformed, ran errands before, during, and after rallies, under the heat of the sun, often without meals. 

Because their hope was dashed, will they still feel the same way about future elections? Will they still rise as they did for PINK?    

As soon as I get back to the departure lounge, before my last boarding call for my flight home, my prayer would still be for the younger generation to keep that kindled light for our country burning, glowing in the dark.   

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.” (Isaiah 60:1 NIV) 

Photo credits: New York Times for the crowd shot; the rest were borrowed from the "Umingan for Leni" FB page 

Stunning Mother-and-Child in PINK

A mother-and-child painting always stops me dead in my tracks. The special love of a mother for an infant evokes so many virtues: strength, sacrifice, resoluteness, and patience—all of them divine.  

I have a file folder of my favorite mother-and-child paintings by various artists. 

On Mother’s Day this year—amidst the presidential campaign—I was particularly riveted to one titled "La Leche Materna" with a PINK background on FB. Not only because of the color which had become our campaign staple, but because of the impact of a selfless mom breastfeeding her child.  

I can never describe the exquisite artistry as I am not an authority on art. But I can express my feelings in one word: stunned. 

The artist, Tom Yboa, is a dear, long-time friend, whose works I marvel at on social media—but only if they happen to pass my wall during the hours I spend online. 

This stunning image never left me as the campaign drew to a close, because that was how I imagined the election results: 

Our next president is a mother.   

She has demonstrated all the sterling qualities of a mom to the people whom she served (nursed may be a better word) for years. I had dreamed of her doing the same for the rest of the country.  

Alas, it was not to be. Today, VP Leni announced—through Atty. Romulo Macalintal—that she will bow to the voice of the people.  

This mother has accepted “defeat” with grace.

Macalintal's short speech was cathartic to us kakampinks (kindred spirits) who, during her Pasasalamat (Thanksgiving rally), cheered her plan to launch the Angat Buhay NGO on July 1, the day after she ends her VP stint. 

Her words, "Allow yourself to cry, but when you're ready to wipe your tears, prepare yourself, strengthen you heart, because we have work to do." She vowed that even as an ordinary citizen, stripped of any government post, she will continue helping Filipinos to have a better life. 

Tom’s art will always remind me that once in my lifetime, I helped passionately campaign for hope, humanized by a mother in PINK, who was spurned by the majority (if the numbers are indeed true). 

But no matter how many times a mother is spurned, she will give of her best, she will persevere. That is a universal truth. 

 “ . . . God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” (1 Corinthians 1:27 NIV) 

Comme ci, Comme ca

“Simone’s so-so.” 

That crossword puzzle clue in today’s newspaper stumped me. I knew Simone is a French name, so the answer should be a French word or phrase. But for the love of me, I could not summon any of the French terms I have stacked in my brain.   

After answering all the other clues, this appeared as the answer: comme ci comme ca.

Instantly, familiar sounds of yesterday replayed in my head! 

“Kamsi-kamso,” my late mom and her four sisters used to say a lot. When planning on going somewhere or doing something, they would stress, “Kamsi-kamso,” with a matching shrug. My cousins and I thought it was an Ilocano word meaning: 

We claimed the phrase for ourselves, too. If anybody among our playmates would ask difficult questions such as: 

“Is this a good idea?” 
“What if we fail?”
“Can you promise it will be a success?”
“You sure?” 
“So what’s next?”  

"Kamsi-kamso” was the safest answer in the world. It needed no explanation and everyone knew what we meant. 

Today, eons later—now as old as my mom and her sisters then—I am reminded of the phrase, coming back to me in its correct spelling, from a crossword puzzle! Indeed it is a French phrase, written as: comme ci, comme ca and pronounced come-see-come-saw. 

The Net defines it as: so-so; neither here nor there; iffy; not sure; neither very good nor very bad—and of course, “whatever happens, happens,” a phrase I say repeatedly these days of uncertainty, with the pandemic and a new set of government officials.    

Oh, the packets of knowledge we learn! And the nuggets of grace we remember! 

(Mom [Chitang] and her sisters, as immortalized in three books of the "Oh, Mateo!" series: The Boy who Had Five Lolas; All aboard with Five Lolas; and A Flood of Kindness) 

“ . . . we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord. (1 Thessalonians 4:17 ESV) 

Forever PINK, Forever Grateful

The elections are over and soon, winners will be installed. My PINK candidates, except for one senator (Risa Hontiveros), lost big time. Rumors of cheating are still too loud but I have plugged my ears to mute them. 

I grieved with my kakampinks (kindred spirits), and up to this day, many are still grieving. I buried myself in writing and reading the Book of Job—our Sunday school lesson, which I need to study deeply because I happen to be the teacher. 

So from today, when I say PINK, I no longer refer to the campaign. I refer to HOPE, which pink has come to symbolize. Now, whenever I catch sight of the color PINK, I will remember to hold on to HOPE—hope for people to see and follow the Light, before their earthy life ends. 

Through this political campaign, the first I have ever been involved in, I have seen the magnitude of evil around us. With fake news, lies, cheating, anger, and rudeness as my daily staple, I had been grieiving long before our great loss. 

Just in time, a passage in one of Pastor P. Arnel Tan’s books reminded me, “It is only through the lens of grace that you and I can see something beautiful so clearly despite the overwhelming evil around us.” 

That, plus my current Bible readings and my journey as a Christian, impressed on me the reason why I write: to help heal. 

I am to share HOPE for people to dream of a forever life, ever after. Whatever sufferings we may experience in this life, exacerbated by the leaders the majority has chosen, if the Lord allows them (as He did in Job’s life), I will remain forever hopeful, forever grateful.  

Before I close my chapter on the PINK campaign, I am posting photos of typical moments of HOPE (there were tons of these!) that lit the darkness.

“For at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light.” (Ephesians 5:8 ESV)

Photo credits: Not one of the photos is mine. I borrowed all from posts of kakampinks. Thank you so much. 

World Read Aloud Day

“Are you busy?” I asked my friend V on the phone.  

“About to read aloud a story to my grandson,” she replied.

“You’re three months too late,” I joked. 

“What? Why?” 

“The World Read aloud Day happened on the first Wednesday of February,” I said laughing.

“There is a World Read Aloud Day?!” she was incredulous. 

“Every year,” I said in jest, “but not too many people are aware of it. Hahaha! Let me send you my blog on it,” I boasted. 

o o o

It turned out I had not written about it. It was all in my mind.  

So I called her back and said, “Sorry, the joke’s on me. I thought I had already blogged about it, but I-” 

“Totally forgot!” she supplied the missing words. 

“Hahahas” crackled from both ends of the line.  

Those two phone calls once again proved that my friend(s) and I have reached that life stage where “I totally forgot” and “It escaped my mind” are common excuses for mental lapses. 

It’s a few months too late, but let me upload screenshots of that day when I actually read aloud my book "Gone?" for kids virtually. I had more slides than what you see here, but I chose these to stress that beyond all the important benefits of reading, the most vital is: 

Kids who love books will love the Word more—with its many grace stories (awesome, fearsome; uplifting, exciting; glorious, joyous; name it)—because they will discover how God weaves all these narratives to show His great Love for them, for all.  

If you are a grandma like I am, try to read aloud a Bible story to your grandchildren often, even before they can read. 

"The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever.” (Isaiah 40:8 NIV)

Of PINK and Tangled Thoughts

Trying to keep my mind off the election results, I visited one drawer where I keep my sewing notions. What greeted me was a clutter of snaps, collar stays, needles in all sizes, threads in all colors, pins, marking pens, elastic, seam rippers—name it, I have them all in an unsorted heap. 

Now working from home, I no longer have the zest to use these once-loved thingies. They used to be my change-of-pace buddies. I would add buttons on blazers, re-hem skirts, embroider jeans and blouses, crochet trimmings for  pockets and sleeves, etc. But I have no need for decent clothes anymore. Old t-shirts and frayed shorts have taken over me.   

I stared at the tangled yarns, which reflected my tangled thoughts.   

It's been four days after the elections, and the candidates I passionately campaigned for, will not make it. There are rumors of massive cheating and the numbers do not match statisticians' figures. Despite the mammoth rallies, the awakening of the youth, and creativity shown all through the campaign from all sectors, "defeat" seems a foregone conclusion. 

What happened? This is a question in many people's mind—expressed online. The answers are too complex to unravel.  

My mom, who taught me how to sew, once said while we were untangling threads, “Actually, worse tangles happen in our minds.” 

Just a couple of hours after the polling places closed on May 9,  the election returns were shown at breakneck speed on TV, auguring a landslide loss for VP Leni and her team. 

I am quite proficient in—and enjoy—untangling threads, but not my thoughts these days.    

Mental knots have been all over social media as posted by kakampinks (allies in the campaign). One of them uploaded his self-portrait in one unbroken line. I attempted doodling in an unbroken line as well to echo my own thoughts.  

That's me, all tangled up, but struggling to smile—perhaps to never let go of hope that was symbolized by the PINK color of our campaign.      

We are the sole listeners of our thoughts, both positive and negative, that power our emotions. I read somewhere that indeed, the most complex tangles happen in our brain. That's why it is difficult to unknot them ourselves—even if those emotions, either exaggerations or over-reactions, are a total waste.  

Untying mental knots is not simple. Some get professional help. Some try self-help books. Alas, some retreat in the tangles. 

I have no panacea for tangled thoughts, not now anyway. But I am confident that by constantly listening to God’s Word over the din of confusion, His grace will help me unsnarl them.  

 “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6-7 NIV)

Philippines My PINKlippines

The polling places have closed and vote transmissions have begun. 

We have cast our votes. We have taken a stand, praying on our knees that this will be a better country with new, sincere leaders who will drive us forward to a future better than the grinder we have been through in the last six years. 

It will be difficult to re-build an ailing  economy that is still saddled with the pandemic. And it will even be more difficult to improve our moral compass, which has sunk so low (with social media language and manners, plus fake videos as ugly proofs). 

But if anything, this is what the PINK campaign has taught me: look back to the old adage of “hope springs eternal.” Although it is so easy to fall in love with VP leni because of her humility, her values, work ethics, and track record, it wasn't her person we supported. It was what she represented and the hope she inspired in us. 

I, and my dear kakampink friends, are going to bed tonight hoping for . . .

• A rose-colored Philippines—with compassionate new leaders, whose platforms that were laid out during the campaign will be fullfilled and provide people the service we so need.  

• Better hearts—of grace-reliant citizens who will embrace the culture of radical love and volunteerism, as modeled by many during the PINK campaign. 
  

Before we hit the sack, I wish to thank, via virtual hugs, all co-volunteers in my close circles, who helped in various ways (why does this sound like a graduation speech?), for their passion and determination. They rubbed off on me! I will miss the urgent GCs and timelines—the assignments, to-do lists, prayer brigades, debriefings, and "cry me a river" moments, which is happening to me now, as I write this.     

All these, plus the macro view of the PINK wave, contributed to my new badge of courage: Never despair; keep praying; there is HOPE.  

The election or selection process today, May 9, is the backdrop of a political renaissance. Win or lose.

“. . . select from all the people some capable, honest men who fear God and hate bribes. Appoint them as leaders over groups of one thousand, one hundred, fifty, and ten.” (Exodus 18:21 NLT)

It’s a PINK Day to a Mom like Me

As a mother of three sons and a grandmother of one grandson, I am basking in the glory of PINK today.     

This is the first Mother’s day that I have been greeted by hundreds of new online friends: kakampinks (co-volunteers in the campaign for VP Leni’s team).  

One is an excellent artist, whose works I was not familiar with before this PINK era—a special period for people with a common dream to work together for a rosy Philippines.  

As a kakampink, I could now freely visit Fredi Agunoy’s page, which features his paintings. A mother-and-child fan (I have several hanging on my wall by esteemed artist friends), I was drawn to his PINK series, which he titled either Rosas or Madonna.  

Rosas is VP Leni’s campaign color, and Madonna is her role at home and in the country, once elected as our presdient.  

Art pieces by artists that depict the bond of a mother and her child have always captivated me, even before I became a mother myself. Why? The unspoken message between a mother and her child is, to me, a most meaningful relationship that keeps hearts beating.   

I asked Fredi’s permission to post them, and what better time to do so than today? 

Like an an added bonus, he sent me a photo of the mural at Dingalan Artist Village, located in Fredi’s Farm at Brgy. Matawe, Dingalan, Aurora. It is the home to the Dingalan Artist Guild. 

I consider it a privilege of the highest order to have visual artists as friends. Their language is grace for the eyes and soul: balance, contrast, colors, patterns, rhythm, texture, depth of feelings, plus more.  

If you are a mom or a granny, or both, Fredi’s paintings are a tribute to you and me.   

Happy Mother’s Day!  

"She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future." (Proverbs 31:25 NLT) 

Profile Photos turn PINK

Am I dreaming? I thought, as I rubbed my eyes.  

Upon getting out of bed early yesterday morning, I visited my FB page. I was surprised to find my wall all PINK! Majority of my friends have changed their profile pictures, and I was even more pleasantly surprised that kith and kin, who were unPINKable in the past, have likewise joined the PINK bandwagon.

Metaphorically, they have answered the call of VP Leni and Sen Kiko to hop in the ride zooming toward a rosy future. 

Without missing a beat, before I tackled breakfast, I changed my own—a bit challenging for a non-techie, but I did it! Upload. 

After hurriedly slurping my coffee, I revisited my wall, and was surprised anew at the many heart emojis this new profile pic got and is getting—like a fountain of grace. Scrolling down, more PINK photos materialized.

And more pleasant surprises:  

Several kakampinks (online friends, whom I have never met in person) messaged me and asked how I did my profile pic. I sent the link and an easy tutorial. But some messaged back with their photos and said they are technically challenged and could I please do it for them? 

I’d do anything for the PINK campaign. 

Collages of profile pics with the same PINK frame have emerged. One claimed, “There are now over two million of these.” Whether he was kidding or not, I am borrowing some—to remind me, years from now, that at one point in our political history, social media was painted with the color PINK, visually demonstrating unity in our quest for good and honest leaders to run the country we live in. 

“How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!” (Psalm 133:1 NLT) 

Say It with PINK Placards

“Let’s go!” kakampinks (co-volunteers for VP Leni’s team) nagged me to attend the PINK rally near our place.  

“I am too old to survive the heat and the crowd,” I declined. “I’ll watch it online.”

“It’s not the same. You have to be there!” 

They’re right, of course. There is no substitute for presence—for being there. 

In any political campaign, presence is a must for candidates. And yet, the electorate has been repeatedly denied and deprived of the presence of a candidate for president and a candidate for VP during debates. These events would have been the venue for them to explain their platforms, and to showcase their astuteness, if any, to answer doubts about their qualifications.   

The grace of watching rallies online is catching details in the crowd when the camera zooms in. The placards were mind-boggling! But one (perhaps because I write books for children), although crudely written on a used carton, touched my core and will remain in my heart. 

(Rough translation: My child, when you grow up, you will read this. On March 20, 2022, I was here. I fought for your future and our country. I am standing by Leni, because she is on the side of truth; I am helping make truth prevail. Your father, Emil)  

My list of adjectives to describe all the others, which VP Leni tries to read aloud in her sorties, is long. Let me lump them in one phrase: gracious words, vintage Pinoy.   

There may not be another ennobling time in our history such as this, that's why I am documenting them.  But I am unable to translate them all to English, without losing their flavor and essence.  

On Valentine’s Day, people wear red and say it with flowers; on VP Leni-Kiko rallies, people wear pink and say it with placards. 

Both occasions are about celebrating love—of being one, of being bound by shared emotions and hope for a rosy future. 

What can be more powerful than an impassioned crowd saying it with placards?  

Oops, I just saw a placard from the Naga rally yesterday and it seems like the placard of all placards in magnitude. How on earth did they do this?! Let me upload it—like a visual P.S. 

Gracious words are like a honeycomb, sweetness to the soul and health to the body.” Proverbs 16:24 ESV