I’m Back!

I know I abandoned this space for almost a year simply because I ran out of space on WordPress. Marc, my brother-in-law, graciously worked (and spent a whole day) on transferring my blog from WordPress for which I am very grateful. Thank you, Marc!

My father would have turned 86 today, 17th of April 2019, and these are two of my favourite photos of him as a young man. I say ‘young’ yet I always say that he died ‘quite young’, only 51 years old. To this day it’s still hard to conjure fond memories of him, of the past when the grief still seems raw and the sense of loss profound. If he’s still around and I could buy him a gift today, I think it would be something that would express everything I have felt over the years as his daughter: love, thankfulness, respect, pride, and appreciation. And so I ask myself, “how does one find a gift that expresses these things?” I don’t think such a gift exists in the material realm. I do wish my father is still around, and wish him a ‘Happy Birthday’ and I could tell him everyday how much I love him. Such things can be done effortlessly and mean more than any amount of money. As I ponder on losing my father at such a young age (as the youngest in the family I don’t have as much memory of him compared to my siblings), these are the things that I believe linger in my mind and heart, making me smile in remembrance and love, more so on occasions like this.

Around the time of my father’s illness, I started asking some very deep questions about life, but never talked about it to anyone. After the doctors told my mother that they couldn’t do anything more for my father, he was brought home to make him more comfortable after several months of hospital confinement in Manila. Providentially my dad’s illness, and death prompted me to search for the true meaning of life. I first heard the gospel through a home bible study with both of my parents still around, but my dad was practically on his deathbed. Though he was weak, I clearly recall him being able to walk on his own, and quite lucid. He could sit down for an hour or two and join in the bible study. I was quite young to understand everything that went on, but my older brother who’s already a Christian at the time, is convinced that dad was saved, and went home to be with the Lord as one of His children.

In my case, the search for life’s meaning went on; while other young kids of my age resorted to drugs, or alcohol, or some other vices just to fulfil their deepest longing, I went into reading self-help books and studying the bible. And the Lord has graciously saved me one day, while on my knees praying at my dormitory. No one has asked me to repeat a prayer or do something to be saved. He providentially arranged it all; worked through my roommate, Jen, to bring me closer to the Saviour.

I always say to the young people at our church to seek the Lord; not to be too focused on their future career and whatever worldly pursuits they may have. And not to take things for granted and think they’re too young and have all the time in world to seek God later on. We never know what tomorrow brings. Seek God while he may be found. (Isaiah 55:6)

Here’s an old post, one of my best memories about my father.

A Bountiful Dose of Nostalgia

With the recent passing of my 95 year-old aunt, I decided to share my diary entry dated 26 Sept 2009. On this particular day, typhoon Ondoy brought massive rainfall and caused severe flooding, death and suffering to thousands of people in Manila and neighbouring provinces. I happened to be in the Philippines at the time taking care of my mother on her deathbed. My cousin, Manay Susan, and I, along with my mother’s caretaker, and with the help of other family members, we’d take turns keeping an eye on her. There’s always someone watching her 24/7 making sure she’s alright. She passed away three weeks after I wrote this.

As I am writing this, the wind is screaming, the rain falls in torrents, thunder is rumbling, lightning is flickering in succession in the distance but seems to be moving closer. The heavy downpour, what seems like buckets of water, is pelting the windows relentlessly. When I was a little child growing up in Samar, there were thunderstorms, similar to typhoon Ondoy, that visited my hometown. In memory, there was more thunder and lightning, and I used to be so frightened of them.

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