Feb. 25, 2002
Two years before my retirement from public service, I was relieved from my duties and appointed as liaison officer of NIA Molave to GSIS, BIR, and Pag-ibig at Pagadian City. The assignment gave me an opportunity to travel three to four times a month depending on the necessity of my appearances thereof.
On one such occasion, I went to the van terminal at 6:30 a.m. There were passengers already when I arrived: two of them were acquaintances, both senior citizens. I sat beside them at the second seat. The van left when it was almost full.
When we reached the junction between Dipolo to Esperanza, a young lady hailed the van. The driver stopped the vehicle and went out because the door of the van was defective and had to be pulled out hard.
A young lady with a face so pretty entered gracefully and sat at the vacant seat beside the driver and in front of me. She looked like a student or a young graduate from college. The ladies beside me were talking in slightly loud voices because one of them apparently was hard of hearing. I often sit with passengers like this, but I ignored them because I was sleepy.
Suddenly, I was startled by an irritated grumble from the young lass who looked back wih an arrogant stare at the ladies. Actually, it was not only a grumble, but an expressed annoyance of the ladies loud talk. My admiration for her beauty paled with her open display of rude manners and discourtesy to old folks.
She instructed the driver that she would alight before we reached the IBT in Pagadian. The driver then stopped the vehicle and prepared to get out to open the door for her but she reached for the handle, twisted it and pushed, but it did not move until the driver pulled it outside. What shocked us was her utterances of evil words when she failed to open it, "P--- te! I----y!" When she finally got out she banged the door outside to the dismay and disbelief of the riders inside. We were stunned at the acts of the lovely lady who entered like an angel but turned out to be like a devil in disguise.
Apparently, her education was overruled by her kind of breeding and inherent bad character.
We cannot judge a book by its cover.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
There's Beauty in Aging
Nov. 28,2004
Wine tastes better when it is aged. The longer it stays in the cellar, the sweeter it becomes. Why is it then that people fear growing old?
One of the best sellers of our time are products dealing with miracle drugs and herbal foods and vitamins that keep one young forever; beauty products to prevent wrinkles or hide it; hair tints to turn gray or white hair into black, brown , or blond. The list is endless.
The struggle for money and power is coupled by the search for the proverbial fountain of youth, as if everything crumbles down when one grows old.
Have I felt this fear too? I waited until this moment to comment. While my body undergoes the natural wear and tear phase, the cracking of the joints when I rise after having sat for a long while; it is at this point that I gain a personal understanding of what life is all about. There's this feeling of wisdom and confidence, the feeling that I'm respected, that many look up to me for the wealth of experiences I can share. It is like reaching the top of a mountain after a hard climb and surveying the areas where I rose after every fall. At this point, I even laughed at my mistakes . This wonderful feeling more than compensates for the signs of aging.
It was nice to be young once, but if I were given a chance to be young again, I certainly wouldn't choose to be eighteen or thirty -five. Perhaps fifty-five to sixty. Still old? Yes, but whether it was pure luck or destiny, I've hurdled the rat race, the crab mentality era, the immaturity of my time, so why go back? Besides the race is harder now, situations more intriguing. I may not be able to survive again. Yahoo!
Wine tastes better when it is aged. The longer it stays in the cellar, the sweeter it becomes. Why is it then that people fear growing old?
One of the best sellers of our time are products dealing with miracle drugs and herbal foods and vitamins that keep one young forever; beauty products to prevent wrinkles or hide it; hair tints to turn gray or white hair into black, brown , or blond. The list is endless.
The struggle for money and power is coupled by the search for the proverbial fountain of youth, as if everything crumbles down when one grows old.
Have I felt this fear too? I waited until this moment to comment. While my body undergoes the natural wear and tear phase, the cracking of the joints when I rise after having sat for a long while; it is at this point that I gain a personal understanding of what life is all about. There's this feeling of wisdom and confidence, the feeling that I'm respected, that many look up to me for the wealth of experiences I can share. It is like reaching the top of a mountain after a hard climb and surveying the areas where I rose after every fall. At this point, I even laughed at my mistakes . This wonderful feeling more than compensates for the signs of aging.
It was nice to be young once, but if I were given a chance to be young again, I certainly wouldn't choose to be eighteen or thirty -five. Perhaps fifty-five to sixty. Still old? Yes, but whether it was pure luck or destiny, I've hurdled the rat race, the crab mentality era, the immaturity of my time, so why go back? Besides the race is harder now, situations more intriguing. I may not be able to survive again. Yahoo!
Friday, September 21, 2007
Moving On
I have written about the process of moving on, of accepting whatever and wherever we may be. I have passed on same advices to my sisters abroad who still long to recapture the bliss of a once happy home or for what had been, and to friends who found it hard to let go. I have strongly urged them to move on. But the truth is, I still think of the home where my children grew up , not only once in a while, but almost always.
We left the house in Molave in a sudden when my husband had a stroke and there was no way for us to go back. He needed medical attention and physical therapy ever so often. I visited the house once a month, and everytime I did I felt an aching loneliness of a time gone by. That house brought love, tears, and laughter; the good old house. I missed the children in that house so much.
Feeling the soft breeze against my skin , and smelling the sweet scent of fruit trees and flowering plants upon entering the house often flood back memories and a sad feeling of loss. It was not easy to pretend the feeling did not exist, because it was always there. I engrossed myself in reading and writing in-between medical checkups so I won't have time left to brood.
Until one day, I was reading the book section of an old Reader's Digest, "Born in Paradise" and came upon a paragraph which changed my outlook and consoled my grieving heart.
"Life is a grand adventure even when it goes against you - so don't look back and grieve for the good old days. Jam all you can into each new one. After a bit you'll discover that they'll be the good old days of the future. In the meantime keep your chins up and the world will never lick you.
It's going to be an interesting experience to you to learn that it isn't life that matters. It's the spirit you put into it that counts. Happiness is a mental adjustment to whatever circumstances surround you."
It was the hammer that knocked out my reverie. The pain diminished , replaced with a clearer acceptance of our destiny. The old home had served its purpose. I started to look around and see what I can do in my new environment. I realized I have already made some friends with those I come in contact with, the hospital staff, the doctors, drugstore personnel, and my new neighbors. On the way, I renewed ties with old friends, relatives , and former classmates and they are glad to see me. I know that whatever circumstances will befall on us, life must go on.
The children have grown up; they have started to carve their own lives away from us, perhaps even better than what we had. They are better equipped with values from the old home. We have gained beautiful, lovable grandchildren. The paradise we enjoyed once can be flown to wherever our destinies are. We can make our lives fuller and richer than the ones behind us.
I breathed deeply and sighed. At last, I'm freed from the guilt of leaving home, freed from the ghost of yesterday.
I HAVE MOVED ON.
We left the house in Molave in a sudden when my husband had a stroke and there was no way for us to go back. He needed medical attention and physical therapy ever so often. I visited the house once a month, and everytime I did I felt an aching loneliness of a time gone by. That house brought love, tears, and laughter; the good old house. I missed the children in that house so much.
Feeling the soft breeze against my skin , and smelling the sweet scent of fruit trees and flowering plants upon entering the house often flood back memories and a sad feeling of loss. It was not easy to pretend the feeling did not exist, because it was always there. I engrossed myself in reading and writing in-between medical checkups so I won't have time left to brood.
Until one day, I was reading the book section of an old Reader's Digest, "Born in Paradise" and came upon a paragraph which changed my outlook and consoled my grieving heart.
"Life is a grand adventure even when it goes against you - so don't look back and grieve for the good old days. Jam all you can into each new one. After a bit you'll discover that they'll be the good old days of the future. In the meantime keep your chins up and the world will never lick you.
It's going to be an interesting experience to you to learn that it isn't life that matters. It's the spirit you put into it that counts. Happiness is a mental adjustment to whatever circumstances surround you."
It was the hammer that knocked out my reverie. The pain diminished , replaced with a clearer acceptance of our destiny. The old home had served its purpose. I started to look around and see what I can do in my new environment. I realized I have already made some friends with those I come in contact with, the hospital staff, the doctors, drugstore personnel, and my new neighbors. On the way, I renewed ties with old friends, relatives , and former classmates and they are glad to see me. I know that whatever circumstances will befall on us, life must go on.
The children have grown up; they have started to carve their own lives away from us, perhaps even better than what we had. They are better equipped with values from the old home. We have gained beautiful, lovable grandchildren. The paradise we enjoyed once can be flown to wherever our destinies are. We can make our lives fuller and richer than the ones behind us.
I breathed deeply and sighed. At last, I'm freed from the guilt of leaving home, freed from the ghost of yesterday.
I HAVE MOVED ON.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
A Moment Of Light
February 18, 2006
Trials knock at your door at a time when you least expect them. A time when you thought everything was going just right for you and suddenly the tables turn and everything goes wrong.
It was a sun-filled afternoon when it happened. I found my husband sprawled on the floor at about 3;30 pm on February 18, 2005. He had a stroke, and the right part of his body was paralyzed.
That was a year ago. Up to now, he's undergoing physical therapy so he could walk again. Whether or not that day will come, I'm still hopeful; but I leave it all to God.
During my dark hours of suffering, I had asked Him, "Why, oh why did you let this happen to me?" When others face trials, you think you have been spared; but when you face it yourself, you feel that nobody has ever felt pain in the same intensity as you have.
At the first week in the hospital, every waking moment was a nightmare; seeing my husband immobile and in pain. From the hospital, we stayed in the residence of my married daughter, Goyen, a registered nurse, who provided us with comfort and freed me from household worries. I have never doubted that God was with me, but there had been days when doubts crept into my mind. I felt down and out, agonizing inside, crying silently in the night. I became sensitive and hurting that casual remarks brought tears to my eyes. I longed for the tranquility of my home.
Until one day, I sat up and reassessed myself, Where is the strong woman you once had been ? The comforter friends ran to in times of distress? The levelheaded person your daughter had known?
I pieced out my life one by one. I must not allow self-pity to destroy me. Sulking would give space to idle thoughts. I busied myself with reading and writing in between feedings, physical therapies, and just about anything to keep me occupied.
In the prayer room one day, I poured out my pains, my anguish, my everything, and slowly a kind of peace engulfed my being.
Without realizing it, God had been with me all the time. How could I have survived the crisis without my children's support? It was clearly through God's guidance that prepared them to be available to us at the time we needed them most.
One week before the incident, we had a new housemaid, a big woman who helped me lift my husband from the floor when most of the time we were alone. Then there was the arrival of Bsmbi, my niece, at their house when I called on her to help us when most of the time she was out. Coincidence like this happened so often in my life that I can say they are acts of Divine Providence. These are actually blessings and graces manifested in little miracles God uses when He works anonymously. Even now as I write this, some incidents blessed me. Just yesterday, I had to withdraw an amount from my savings for emergencies, since the therapies, medicines, and maintenance cost so much. Suddenly I received a text message from a debtor saying she was sending full payment of her account to my ATM. Then a phone call from a relative abroad who said she was sending some money as well. Isn't this another sort miracle too?
My husband is still paralyzed, but the future no longer haunts me as before. I've found peace in the wonderful discovery of taking refuge and trusting the Lord when trials knock at the door.
Trials knock at your door at a time when you least expect them. A time when you thought everything was going just right for you and suddenly the tables turn and everything goes wrong.
It was a sun-filled afternoon when it happened. I found my husband sprawled on the floor at about 3;30 pm on February 18, 2005. He had a stroke, and the right part of his body was paralyzed.
That was a year ago. Up to now, he's undergoing physical therapy so he could walk again. Whether or not that day will come, I'm still hopeful; but I leave it all to God.
During my dark hours of suffering, I had asked Him, "Why, oh why did you let this happen to me?" When others face trials, you think you have been spared; but when you face it yourself, you feel that nobody has ever felt pain in the same intensity as you have.
At the first week in the hospital, every waking moment was a nightmare; seeing my husband immobile and in pain. From the hospital, we stayed in the residence of my married daughter, Goyen, a registered nurse, who provided us with comfort and freed me from household worries. I have never doubted that God was with me, but there had been days when doubts crept into my mind. I felt down and out, agonizing inside, crying silently in the night. I became sensitive and hurting that casual remarks brought tears to my eyes. I longed for the tranquility of my home.
Until one day, I sat up and reassessed myself, Where is the strong woman you once had been ? The comforter friends ran to in times of distress? The levelheaded person your daughter had known?
I pieced out my life one by one. I must not allow self-pity to destroy me. Sulking would give space to idle thoughts. I busied myself with reading and writing in between feedings, physical therapies, and just about anything to keep me occupied.
In the prayer room one day, I poured out my pains, my anguish, my everything, and slowly a kind of peace engulfed my being.
Without realizing it, God had been with me all the time. How could I have survived the crisis without my children's support? It was clearly through God's guidance that prepared them to be available to us at the time we needed them most.
One week before the incident, we had a new housemaid, a big woman who helped me lift my husband from the floor when most of the time we were alone. Then there was the arrival of Bsmbi, my niece, at their house when I called on her to help us when most of the time she was out. Coincidence like this happened so often in my life that I can say they are acts of Divine Providence. These are actually blessings and graces manifested in little miracles God uses when He works anonymously. Even now as I write this, some incidents blessed me. Just yesterday, I had to withdraw an amount from my savings for emergencies, since the therapies, medicines, and maintenance cost so much. Suddenly I received a text message from a debtor saying she was sending full payment of her account to my ATM. Then a phone call from a relative abroad who said she was sending some money as well. Isn't this another sort miracle too?
My husband is still paralyzed, but the future no longer haunts me as before. I've found peace in the wonderful discovery of taking refuge and trusting the Lord when trials knock at the door.
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