Procession

The Bible spews nothing but the truths. It materialized today.

Since late last year, the planning for the church's annual procession in honor of Our Lady of the Rosary had been conceived. I believed that everything was iron-smooth. But things happened in the midst of it, and a month before the event, all initial plans were dissolved. We transported back to square one.

I read in one magazine that behind every team's success is the members' concerted effort. Fresh arrangements were laid on the table. Allocation of designation reorganized. Coordination cleared, head ached, blood pressure shot up. To top it all off, a member rendered a resignation later amidst the chaos, a surprise that left a sour taste in my mouth.

All is well that ends well, the Bible proclaims. We have been offering spiritual roses for Our Mother for the success of this endeavor. Roses of prayers showered upon the church's car park where the procession was held, scattering a fragrance of manifestations. We ran out of candle holders. Unfolded ones were distributed to the parishioners; they had to do their own. Witnessing others folding and sharing it to those unable to gave the task its dignity. After I folded one, I gave it to a random person. His eyes twinkled in delight upon receiving it, a realization that time and effort were offered for each of these candle holders hitting him. His utterance of thanks struck my very soul.

Two rotations around the vicinity were executed in deliverance of the Rosary. At the last mystery, the altar boys, the two girls carrying the Rosary and crown on a cushion, Mother Mary's statue, the priest, and the whole congregation paused in the middle, paced slowly towards the stage at the center of the car park. Upon reaching it, a way was made for the statue, and an enthronement of Mother Mary took place. The whole ensemble was in perfect coordination. The Rosary was finished, offering of Rosary and crowning followed as initiated by the celebrating priest, with the choir rejoicing in acapella music at the side. The parishioners' duet with the choir, the believers' unison, Father giving final blessing when we half-expected him to leave after the crowning, Mother Mary's intercession to smoothen executions, the weather's cooperation, all these combined with the prayers and the voices filled the small space of the car park. The petition box was sitting just right beside Mother Mary, the prayers embedded in it flew to the sky up to God's holy seat. Seek and you shall find, the Bible affirms. Ask and you will receive. Truly, God helps those who rely on Him. The beautiful orchestra of team work, purity of intentions, and faith in the One above are the divine demonstrations.

The Bible spews nothing but the truths. It materialized today. :)

It's the Big 3

I finally hit it. Today is my big day. And breakfast, lunch, and dinner were all spent with beautiful friends. :)

Steve Jobs

Steve Jobs passed away.

He is considered the greatest icon of the electronic world of the 21st century. He changed processes; he simplified them. He made life smoother and bumps lesser. His passing is a great loss to humanity.

He lived short. At least that was what my colleague told me. He created simplicity and sublime system and applications, leaving an imprint of elephantine proportion, his thumb print stamped on each legacy. But his life was too short. He could have done much, much more.

A famous line goes like this: 'It does not matter how long you lived. It is how you live your life.' The contributions he had done to make this world a little better is a thousand miles more significant than decades of barren existence. He lived for his passion. He materialized dreams, revolutionizing simultaneously the ways of the world. And that is what matters.

Immortality has various faces. The masterpieces of Beethoven and the sonnets of Shakespeare continue to echo in the wind till today. Steve Jobs' incandescence will illuminate groping hopefuls, flickering inspiration to elementary and advanced minds alike. And his story will be printed on history books.

Age is but a number.

Wedding

She was walking down the aisle; her beauty ravishing the four walls of the house of the Lord. He was waiting for her; a courageous smile pasted on his face. In this divine undertaking, there in front of God the Most High, their hearts held.

We have been friends for about a year, but at that moment when we first met, I knew that theirs is not of societal practice. Just when my friends lambasted me for my naiveness on relationships, for my silly ideologies that only materialize in flicks, they are an embodiment of my understanding of it. They fume a flicker of hope to those who believe in the purity of a commitment. It is not extinct after all.

She walked down the aisle. He was waiting patiently. Peaceful happiness clouded the whole church. Years of discernment (he wanted to enter the seminary) and of pleading God for that 'engineered' someone to arrive (she listed her husband-to-be prerequisites), the marrow of that half of their lives was summarized in that two hour mass of the Holy Matrimony. I was mesmerized. As they exchanged vows, past relationships and lessons learned took a back seat. They are now neatly stacked in piles of memories, good and bad catalogued, giving birth to an emotional space awaiting to be filled. The sequel to their relationship, their matrimonial lives, has now begun to roll. And I know it will be a Cannes festival one.