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.

10:10

Ten minutes. Ten plays. Two hours. This is my 2011 version of short films which I am passionately addicted to. Ten catholic plays, each playing for ten minutes. All delivering a unified message.

At the end of all, a vote was casted. One particular short play caught my attention. Missing the Lights, it was entitled. It started with a video of a normal city day with cars and pedestrians swifting by, followed by the two main characters drowned in the busyness of a day. Minding their own businesses, they were engulfed by their day-to-day routine. There was a scene where the girl, quoting from her favorite book, recited her ideal man. The guy, on the other hand, uttered a verse from his book, transcribed in it the meaningful solitude.

Their paths crossed. Their lives intertwined. They got entangled in the web of couple-hood. It was destroyed by miscommunication in the middle, and they parted ways in the end, the scene portrayed a re-enactment of the initial set-up where they were consumed by cars and pedestrians swifting by. But this time, they traversed the frequented two paths with a great distance in between. The conveyance of separation is undeniable.

I find this profoundly poetic, and the limitation to two characters who acted very effectively left an impact. No other props were evident, except for the change in clothes twice, a bag, shoes, and chairs depicting union or the lack of it. But the meaning was powerfully sent across; ten minutes sufficed. The topic of all the plays was love, and the negation to it imprints likewise. I casted my vote, drew a big check next to its title, tried to influence my friends to vote unanimously, but free will dictated otherwise. The messages were understood subjectively, but they all invoked 1 Corinthians just the same. 'And the greatest of these is love'. :)

Samaritan Angel

Google map has been an acquaintance when I go places. But it kind of abandoned me halfway today.

I had an appointment at 10am. I left my humble abode a little past 830am, albeit later than I initially planned. I was confident that despite my solitude, I would reach my destination hassle-free and on time.

The map instructed me take bus 45, and it tacitly warned me of the long, jaw-breaking-yawn boring journey. I took on the challenge, believing that at 10 am, at the latest, my destination would be within eyesight.

So I alighted the bus. With my BB on my right hand, I scrutinized the paths being spoon fed to me by google map. The lost girl being my middle name, reading the map that produced real-time images conveyed abstract likeness to me. I took an overhead bridge, realized I headed to the wrong exit, took a turn on a street which, apparently, was a grave mistake again. I was in the middle of nowhere, my feet were rationalizing on their own, my mouth and my brain exchanged diverse points and concluded that tardiness was the trouble-maker to blame. The sun was not spewing heat mightily, I was thanking God for this consolation, when a stranger in his white, glimmering car pulled over in my weariness. He inquired if I was heading to CHIJ Our Lady of Good Counsel. I was. He offered a ride. 

"Seek, and you shall find", the Bible says. But even if we do not seek, our Father in heaven knows the desires of our hearts, and we will find. I entered the seemingly recently purchased car of this good samaritan, took the front passenger seat, and breathed his hospitality. He drove his wife and daughter to the same recollection I was heading, he told me, and he had been noticing loads of people walking the same path. He had been picking up lost sheep and delivering them to the venue. My ride was his fourth send off. 

Angels disguise themselves to aid us. This stranger is the perfect representation. I arrived at my destination just in time for the priest's opening prayer. It would have been another 15 to 20 minute journey on foot had I not been rescued from that dilemma. God always, always provides. He profusely bleeds blessings, trivial or epochal. Even transport. :)

Sundae Sunday!

The little surprises have the heaviest impact. I was blown away, I laughed my heart out, therefore hereby declaring today to be an official happy day.

I arrived late for my catechism class. It was a good thing, I guess. It gave the class the time to connive and to draw on my stainless white board the sweetest "Good morning, May" I have ever gazed upon in my entire existence. At the right part of this art was the four smiley faces with the names on top of it of the four girls who conjured this heart-warming idea. I melted.

Saturday was the presidential election in this country. As expected, the hot topic of the day was the Saturday's event. So one kid asked me if I voted. Before I could even answer, one classmate replied on my behalf that I was not a citizen. I affirmed by saying that I am a filipino (a foreigner of this land). The kid who asked turned to the classmate beside him, inquired of his knowledge of my roots by saying, "how did you know?" Guess how the classmate replied? "Well first, she sings..", stretching one of his folded fingers. I teared in guffaw. :)