Spirited Away Moment.

Sometimes supernatural stories seem strange….till it happens to you, my daughter claims.

Her adventure north of Taiwan yielded one ‘spirited away moment’ she considers her scariest experience.

En route cultural kiosks, shops and museums in a quaint little town, the tropical weather was truly hot,

thus she deemed it would be refreshing to climb the one kilometer stone staircase leading to the Shinto Shrine. It was a bright blue day.

Nary a soul in sight but the surroundings was so inviting and she hastened her steps to the top. Feeling victorious about the steep ascent, it was like a Mulan moment when she finally got to the top of the mountain, when all of a sudden, from out of the blue, a massive wind, visible to the naked eye, tossed her to a halt. Surprised, she rushed to a square stone and placed her offering just as the thick trickles of rain dropped, turning the serene atmosphere into a cold freezer.

She counted seconds ticking into ten full minutes, and with no chocolate in her small white backpack, she surmised the cold creeping would be detrimental to her being. The small shed has no wall to shield her from the fierce gusts of winds. Ten minutes was enough to soak her hair and skin.

Shivering, she decided to go down, and with every step, she thought the ungentle winds could easily and swiftly take her away like a leaf. A dumb way to die, and so she prayed harder…

And as sudden as that massive wind came. the rain stopped when she made her final step. Thankful for the solid grounds, she whispered a solemn prayer. Drenched and shaken, a family of four on their way up the shrine smiled at her, asking if she had a good experience at the top. She simply nodded her head , turned, and sought a sip of hot tea at the tea house.

By the way, Spirited Away is a Japanese animation that won an Oscar. It is, of course, based on true tales, like my daughter’s.

My Daughter A Backpacker! Or Wayfarer!

A long time ago, a group of elderly churchmates invited me for an excursion to see the famous perfect cone volcano Mt. Mayon. Unfortunately, I was then the busy bee of a mother who couldn’t afford to while the time away, so I sent my teen of a daughter instead, thinking it would be an adventure for a convent girl to experience distant places, aside from home, school and church. After all, she’d be safe in the company of old ladies who later on, she narrated, made her do everything during the long, winding trip to the Bicol region, from checking lodging, marketing, cooking, setting the table for meals, etcetera, that she felt she was a bit deprived of enjoying the sites. Albeit the trip created, for my young lass, an insatiable quest to wander the world.

Thus far, she’d been to four continents, for education and work, and some young ambassadorial task for the country. This week though, she said she’d be a tourist for once, and just enjoy a little island nearby called Taiwan.

Nope, she’s not a tourist in the strictest sense, because she sent me pictures of an accommodation on top of a hill, ate local food and she walked the streets to see what ordinary life is in Taipei and Jiufen. She’s more of a backpacker!

Twenty thousand steps a day, she said, and that makes her a wayfarer. Grateful for the stones after the long walk.

In a Mother’s Journal.

Someone told me that I am forever writing. How could I not, there are so many thoughts inside my head that, for an introvert such as me, need to be expressed. Writing my thoughts seem to be a perfect solution, except that I am such a clutter bag that my notebooks or logbooks cannot be found any longer. Sigh. Good thing there is this internet that seems to have become my friendly recorder. And look what I found stashed in my memory lane – a mother’s musings from eight years back. The photo of me writing was taken during a party in Quezon Province. A handy image for this entry.

It was a heavy downfall late in the afternoon, with matching fierce flashes of lightning bolts and reverberating thunder. Even I who rejoice at rain shower surprises was momentarily disconcerted. The gusts of winds brought the curtain rods down. Rainwater sipped in, and in a matter of seconds there’s a little flooding on the staircase landing.

Fancied on how I would rock the boat when I go get Jean at Jollibee, the roads would definitely be knee deep. And true enough, I was caught in a snail paced queue that took an hour to free my ever dependable ebony Buzz from.

Jean hastened with her good news, about her job and her application for a scholarship in a foreign land.

Oh well, chapters have to end so we can begin with new ones

Perhaps I am feeling mushy with the rain. Or maybe I am really coming to terms that my two daughters have finally spread their wings, the span of which are long, and the strength looking pretty sturdy.

This morning, I brought Tish change of clothes (whites and scrubs) and some loaf, and in the minute we met. she was on the phone being prodded for her presence in the OR, pending her nth assist in surgery, the activity that excites her most, and she feels, she excels.

I cannot define exactly what grips me, perhaps it’s a natural state, that moment when a mother realises her children are already doing what she has long prepared them for. Nope, there ain’t any disappointment that neither is performing in a concert hall, nor Jean writing for some newspaper. for I thought they would be in such professions. They are exactly in their chosen fields. and I am fine with that.

Maybe tomorrow when the rain is done, they would play some music again.

In the meantime. I am pretty comfy on my bed, .savoring the moment, that moment about turning pages for the next chapter.

I love it.

Oh rain you make me feel this way.

Wanderlust.

My little wanderlust of a daughter has packed her luggage again, this time on a nearby archipelago right below our own, in a land called Malaysia. Not a travel for pleasure but for work.

Sent me photos with Petronas Twin Towers as a backdrop, with her workmate, and the delightful food they consumed, the sunny side up egg looking luscious and the white rice cake with tropical oregano enticing.

For Sheer Love of Music.

This is my daughter from twelve years back, when she was a coed struggling to become a biologist at the University of the Philippines. Tough though her Bio course was, she took to heart studying piano under the tutelage of National Artist, Professor Agot Espino Saturday mornings. And she managed to perform the three recitals required to have a degree in music.

Albeit life doesn’t really turn out to be as one dreamt life would be. My daughter pursued Medicine and she’s now an OB-Gynecologist.

Funny this video came top of my suggested playlist on youtube, when just this morning, my daughter tinkered with the piano playing Adele songs. She’s currently reviewing for oral and written exams for fellowship. Playing the ivory keys was her break time relaxation.

A Test of Faith.

The liturgy today tells a story from Genesis about how Sarah, the wife of Abraham, upon seeing her son Isaac playing with Ishmael, Abraham’s son with Hagar the Egyptian, asked Abraham to banish the bondswoman and the boy to the wilderness.

Strange the plots our God has written for us in the History of Salvation, for the Muslims, a most formidable challenge to Christianity, were the descendants of Ishmael. In the medieval times, they were called the Saracens.

As God has promised Abraham, the descendants of Ishmael will also become a great nation, for the boy was also of his seed.

Thus the Ottoman Empire succeeded in conquering Constantinople, now Instanbul. Mighty and fierce, the Muslims wanted to seize Rome also but was miraculously defeated in the Battle of Lepanto, through the assistance of our Lady of Guadalupe Whose Image was on one of battleships of the Christians.

The feud exists to this day, the Muslims employ every trick of the trade, by hook or by crook, as the world witnessed the jihadists sow terror on the Christian world.

For many centuries, the Muslims had been trying to erase Christianity. Now they are doing it as cunningly as they could. Did you notice in the 1970’s when someone started crossing out Christ from Christmas, making it X’mas in our Christmas cards? And when Christmas-themed movies became devoid of the Christmas story and focused on Santa, cookies, and decorations.? There was even a survey as to which Christmas story is best – Die Hard 1 or Home Alone? The Muslims are cancelling the Christian culture.

Just telling so we, Christians, would be aware of what is happening in our world, because our God has given us a true test of spirit, if we would fight for our faith.

Onward, Christian soldiers. UIOGD

Image credit from google.

Litany of Humility

“Behold, I am the Handmaid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to Thy Word,” was the young Mary’s response to an archangel called Gabriel. And that spontaneous profession of faith in God became the most profound act of humility in all of creation. Right then and there, the lowly shepherd girl became the Mother of God.

A blessing to all mankind who, to this day, remain stubbornly proud, selfish, vain, callous, envious, and unkind.

Here’s a prayer of humility that we could recite and meditate upon each day, so our lives could be in congruence with the beauty of creation and draw us closer to our God.

O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed, deliver me, O Jesus.

From the desire of being loved, deliver me, O Jesus.

From the desire of being extolled, deliver me, O Jesus

From the desire of being honored, deliver me, O Jesus

From the desire of being praised, deliver me O Jesus

From the desire of being preferred to others, deliver me O Jesus

From the desire of being consulted, deliver me, O Jesus

From the desire of being approved, deliver me O Jesus

From the fear of being humiliated, deliver me O Jesus

From the fear of being despised, deliver me O Jesus

From the fear of suffering rebukes, deliver me O Jesus

From the fear of being calumniated, deliver me O Jesus

From the fear of being forgotten, deliver me, O Jesus

From the fear of being ridiculed, deliver me O Jesus

From the fear of being wronged, deliver me, O Jesus

From the fear of being suspected, deliver me O Jesus

That others may be loved more than I, Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I, Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

That in the opinion of the world others may increase and I may decrease, Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be chosen and I set aside , Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be praised and I go unnoticed, Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be preferred to me in everything, Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should , Jesus grant me the grace to desire it.

Amid Woke and Cancel Culture…

There’s a graver threat to humanity than AI. That is the wide proliferation of woke and cancel culture. Before we clearly understand the meaning of these two terminologies, I believe that I have sensed the advent of such as early as the 90’s. Back then, my life was a hectic juggling of motherhood to two inquisitive toddlers and a daily grind of tutoring achievers and teaching/nurturing preschoolers in my own nursery school. I contend those were the most wondrous years in my life, for the children, in all their innocence, challenged me and made me laugh. My observation sprung from those years when I noticed the fathers dropping off and picking up their children. Where are the mothers, I asked. They were at work. And the fathers were left to tend to the household and the children. A completely different scenario from the family picture, the father being the breadwinner, and the mother cares for the home. The glory was taken away from the fathers.

Simultaneous with that sad truth, the gays dominated the television sitcoms, crossdressing and blatantly asserting their gayness. The viewers absorbed a daily barrage of men displaying exaggerated femininity. Before long, many young teens have come to express their desire to be gay, even if they were not.

I was afraid of my thoughts, that eventually, the homosexuality would become a norm. Back in an exclusive for girls convent school where I had my education, the tomboys or potential lesbians were behaved, though we know that they were probably struggling and questioning their own gender.

The millennium ushered new generations – millennials, Gen Zee, Alpha Gen – who have come to accept the fact that fathers attend to the laundry and it is all right to profess one’s self gay.

Have I qualms about it? Probably. But I always thought that glory will be given back to the fathers, and people would eventually realize their biological gender and embrace it.

To the former, I think the fathers have come to terms with their roles in the family, but as to the latter, I was totally shocked with the LGBTQ waving a rainbow of colors and asserting homosexuality as a culture to contend with. If I know my Bible right, am sure Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed with sulfur and fire.

My daughters were cautious in reminding me that they have gay friends. I have no issue with that. I also had friends who were sexually challenged. And still they remained friends. My issue is with people telling me to accept the fact that a person’s being is his/her private truth, meaning it is simply all right to tamper with one’s body according to his or her own preference. And that the public comfort rooms must be deemed both for male and female, in order not to ostracize the transgenders and the queer. A man having sex change is his own truth, and so with a female changing into a man. Just to clarify, if we accept all these truths, does that mean nothing is false anymore?

Eventually, the world witnessed the Yemeni running on yahoo news in 2008, and the domination of dictators in the key corners of the globe. The Russian presented himself a debonair. Biochemical warfare became the name of the game. Who would not be shocked and distressed by what happened to Aleppo? A people was canceled, just like the Ukrainians are being canceled.

Cancel culture became a terminology, a phrase I only heard post pandemic when the newsmen were quoting it in their reports. I wondered what it was, and later learned that it is an attempt to change the true and the good by eradicating the proponent for morality. Obliterate the culture and exchange it for what the people like to see and hear.

What is woke. I asked. The young people I talked with couldn’t provide me an answer. As I googled through for the definition of terms, the origin of which has reference to a call to be awake regarding racism, eventually, the woke is now used to call for activism on the streets to call for equality and justice.

There lies the threat to humanity, man pitted against each other, as we see now in France, the police versus the people burning the cities, because a teen was shot and killed by the police over traffic. The killing is inexcusable, but would it not be proper to seek justice before committing arson.

By and large, woke and cancel culture are manifestations of godlessness, a deviation from everything that is moral. Correct me if I am wrong.

I posted a picture of The Carpenter and His Son because I still believe that if we get our truth correctly and work together, there might still be hope for the despicable events that must be deleted from the face of the earth.