For My Gift From God December 13, 2008

I still remember clearly the “single years” — my years of hoping and praying that MR. RIGHT will show himself before me all garbed in his “knight in shining armour” gear. I envisioned him to be my protector; someone to shield me from everything that would cause me harm.

Along the course of that lonely and seemingly hopeless searches, there were those “trees” along the path —readily promising shade and comfort when looked at from a considerable distance but really offering nothing at all — a mirage of the happiness so much desired….

My illusions had been shattered, my heart broken into millions of tiny fragments. But I have always moved on, picking up all the broken bits and pieces and slowly mending my disillusioned and tattered self esteem… always holding on to hope…

Then from out of the blue, my prince appeared —just when I thought everything was bleak and dreary, he came to me bringing roses in the rain and making me believe in love all over again…

So, for the love of my life, I write these lines…

Plo,

You are the greatest blessing that God has given me. We have been through so much and will still go through so much, I know. But as long as we hold each other’s hands and not let go, as long as we believe in the strength of our love for each other, and as long as we keep JESUS the glue that binds us together, we will make it through every storm towards another sunshine….

If there ever was a situation that I am thankful for, it was knowing you in my moment of deepest despair and you changed my life in many ways. If there ever was a day which I am thankful for, it was was that fateful day when you took me in your life and made me your wife…

You are more than just my destiny…you, to me, are the gift that God has wrapped especially for me…

Thank you for staying a gift through all these years. I am happy having you…and I am not even through unwrapping the carefully wrapped package of your person which is slowly revealed to me each moment we’re together. And I tell myself that God must love me so much to have blessed me with a special person…a husband, a best friend, a confidante, a brother, a lover….all wrapped in a beautiful present called EFREN PALACIO…

Jing

For Andrea December 13, 2008

You have grown

From seeds unseen by human eyes

Out of love you were made…

A love which spans the infinite

And stretches across vast seas

A love that has given meaning

To two meaningless lives

You have grown

Slowly taking form

Like rosebuds opening

With dewdrops on each cheek

You are wanted

To be part of these lives who care

You are God’s precious gift

You have grown

From the helpless infant you had been

And continues to grow

With every passing minute

Every swiftly passing day

You are planted in God’s garden

Cared for, loved and treasured

You’ll grow up

To face all odds with courage

With love in your heart

To outweigh all pains and sorrow

For I have prayed

That God be the wind beneath your wings

To be your source of strength

Till eternity

Responsible Parenthood??? December 12, 2008

Halfway through the priest’s homily a few months ago as  I was attending mass, I felt the urge to get out.  If you think it’s the homily that made me want to get out, the answer is yes.

It’s all about the bill in Congress entitled the Responsible Parenthood Act of 2007 and how it is supposed to punish the poor for having more children…that pregnancy, if this bill will be approved,( with the statement that contraceptives will be considered essential medicines), shall be considered a disease. That contraception is not pro-life and so on and so forth.

Of course, all of us share different views and I am not against the Church on this matter because the viewpoint of one priest doesn’t necessarily have to mean the view of the entire priesthood.  In a manner where clash of opinions and ideas do arise, it is also expected that there will also be some forms of disagreement that will arise, but hopefully, something that wouldn’t lead to social discord.

Personally, I view the Responsible Parenthood Act as a desperate means of the legislators to control the population explosion.  I know it is not morally upright, but economically, it is the most sound solution.  We are faced with a situation where diminishing resources are to be divided among the millions of citizens.  Food shortages, unemployment, rising prices of commodities — these problems are faced by everyone everyday, but the average Filipino doesn’t even realize that these problems have something to do with the population boom.

The priest further stated that some provisions in the Responsible Parenthood Act are good and he stressed on which he thought were detrimental to the “poor”, so he said. As I listened to him state his views on the issue, I realized the bias to suit and justify the claim of the church.  He said that because the poor couldn’t produce quality citizens, they are, therefore, not allowed to have children. I couldn’t believe that the legislators meant for the point to be taken that way and I am not sold out to his justification because everyday, being a teacher in a public high school, I see the ill effects of irresponsible parenthood — parents bringing into the world children that they couldn’t even support.— children who have potentials, but who have become despondent and hopeless because of the dysfunctional family they are in. Those who are well off have lesser children compared with the poor who has an average of 5 children whom they can’t even send to college and whose necessities they couldn’t even meet.  I have students who come in late for school because they have to fish for their daily consumption — students who need to absent themselves  from their classes because they have to harvest coconut, harvest corn, harvest rice, do menial jobs so they can help support their family because their father is a drunkard and their mother is always gambling.  I have a student who, just this month, dropped out of school because she has gotten pregnant.  I have had students in the past who graduated pregnant.

This isn’t an issue about whether we are pro-life or anti-life.  I am pro-life, naturally and I consider abortion a great sin.  But it is also a sin to bring in children into the world only to make them suffer.  I am not in favor of contraceptives either. In fact, I am not using contraceptives — because I have a responsible husband who plans for the welfare of the children that we bring into this world.

The priest made a big issue about the fact that sex education should be introduced starting from Grade V until Fourth Year.  He further claims that because it is a subject, then, it must need a practicum.  I couldn’t help but blow my top while listening to him.  Of course, it isn’t meant that way — he just stated it that way so that Catholics will have a reason to fight the bill. For me, it is a necessary means to educate our youth about human sexuality and reproduction because many have gotten pregnant and many have gotten their girlfriends impregnated because they had the wrong information about the matter.  When children ask about sexuality, the natural reaction of conservative parents is to scold and nag and brand their children as prostitutes or something of the sort — or we mislead them by talking about the birds and the bees.  The result is that, some young girls who get pregnant have the wrong notion that they couldn’t get pregnant the first time they have sex and so on… too many fallacies that need to be corrected.

The priest stated that the best way to educate children and to keep them from engaging in fornication is through inculcation of Christian values by the parents, but I haven’t seen this happening.  Gone are those days when virginity and chastity among girls are most revered and upheld.  Gone are those days when the boys are the ones doing the chasing.  And gone are those days when our girls are kept within the safety of the home when dusk falls. I have seen this happening everyday because I see this in my students.  I have seen the morality of young women crumbling down to an irreparable state.  So who’s mistake is that?  The mistake of the legislators again?  We are counting on the parents, but unfortunately, it’s the parents who  have become instrumental in destroying the morality of their children.  We have unfortunately come to a stage where we have proved these line of a song:  THERE’S A DANGER IN LOVING SOMEBODY TOO MUCH.   Parents have given children too much freedom, have spared them the pain of struggling to learn to do things on their own, have provided every whim and luxury to the point of raising shallow children who have much knowledge on earthly things but whose spirituality is lacking… I could go on and on, but I know it’s the only thing I can do. What hurts me is the fact that I could be doing the very same mistakes these parents have done because I am an absentee parent myself.

I also have children — children whom I have to entrust to other people because I need to work to survive…. perhaps, this is the reason why our young children are morally lacking — it’s because they have parents who could supply them with everything they want, but who couldn’t feed their spiritual and emotional hunger because they are busy making ends meet.  I have children who, just like the generation before them, are faced with the challenge of being morally upright in an immoral world.  I couldn’t assure success.  I could only pray and ask for guidance because I am but a human being who is bound to make mistakes…

I know that Reproductive Health Act of 2007 is not the solution to the problem.  But I also know that the Catholic Church’s strong negation isn’t an answer either.  But perhaps, being what it is, an institution of faith which uphold morality, the Catholic Church can do a lot to solve this problem which has arisen from moral degeneration.  Perhaps it should start preaching on a more personal level — on a level where the parents could get to understand that the family is the only hope of the transformation of the youth so we can hope for wholesome citizens someday. — citizens who will bring in children into this world responsibly.

Don’t get me wrong.  I am a Catholic and I am staying that way.  I just felt the need to write this today.

If Only December 12, 2008

Do not withhold correction from a child, for if you beat him with a rod, he will not die. You shall beat him with a rod and deliver his soul from hell.

- Proverbs 23: 13-14 –

These verses struck a chord in me today as I reflected on the plight of many teenagers who get their lives entangled into a seemingly irreparable mess early in their lives. I couldn’t help but be affected because I see this situation in my adolescent students everyday. I see the promise of intelligence gleaming through the look in their eyes — gleams that are so easily outshone by the shallow glitter of false gold that are so readily offered by the world. Students who come from a home complete with a mother and a father but who couldn’t even be civil towards each other in front of their children — parents who are literally trying to tear each other’s throats off in front of the children — children who naturally grow with the nagging question: “ARE THESE THE KIND OF PARENTS WHO WILL GUIDE ME TO BE THE PERSON THAT GOD WANTS ME TO BE?”

In my younger years, there were no parents guarding or watching their children in school for the whole day even when their children were already in Grade Five. There were no nannies who brought lunch boxes and umbrellas and face towels. There were no private tutors who were expected to answer assignments and make projects; no overprotective mom who readily wipes the sweat from the brows of her child. In short, children ,during my time, were allowed to be children … they were allowed to explore, to enjoy and to learn from their mistakes.  And they weren’t spared the rod of correction. Children were allowed the normalcy of being human. They were allowed to experience the sturdiness of a tree branch, the bruising pain of a fall, the freedom of running against the wind and feel it beating against one’s face, the comforting lap of sea water at midday wiping out any heat of the scorching sun.

We are at an unfortunate time when most parents equate love of their children with various material things: fancy dresses, expensive toys, a trip to Disneyland, modern gadgets and all those things. This is an unfortunate time when for some, going to church on Sundays has become a necessary farce for some families just to show off new clothes, cars and other things. This is an unfortunate time when parents think it a great sin to correct a child of his mistakes; a time when we have raised pretty and handsome —physically able — sons and daughters but who actually are spiritually and emotionally invalid because we have loved them too much to let them learn on their own. We have loved our children too much to the point of killing their blossoming spirits which could have bloomed through the hardships and the trials that would have polished the diamonds within themselves to perfection and undimmed radiance.

I remember a reading I had more than a decade ago. It was about a child who was pampered to destruction by his mother. Each time he made mistakes, he wasn’t reprimanded. When he wronged another child, he wasn’t scolded and corrected; when he stole from his mother’s wallet, the mother would dismiss it simply as a juvenile trick — she would just smile to her son and tell him how much she loved him instead. When he grew to be an adolescent, he was involved in a petty crime and was brought to the police station for interrogation. Once again, the ever loving mother came to his rescue to the point of scolding and berating the poor policemen and telling them that her son is a good man who can do no wrong. And then the young man grew up. His crimes escalated from the petty to the heinous ones. One day, he got arrested because he took part in a bank robbery. As expected, the mother hurried to the station to vouch for her son’s character and credibility. The son, who had been quietly sitting on one corner of the cell suddenly stood up and shouted, “ARREST THAT WOMAN!” The mother was baffled. She couldn’t understand why her son would want her imprisoned after everything she had done for him. She said, “MY SON, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU VERY MUCH. REMEMBER WHEN YOU WERE STILL GROWING UP, I DIDN’T LET YOU DO HOUSEHOLD CHORES BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO GET TIRED. I DIDN’T REPRIMAND YOU WHEN YOU STOLE FROM MY WALLET, DELIBERATELY THREW THE DISHES ON THE FLOOR OR MADE ANOTHER CHILD CRY. I PROTECTED YOU FROM EVERYTHING THAT WOULD CAUSE YOU MISERY AND PAIN. WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO BE IN THAT CELL INSTEAD OF YOU?”

And the young man answered, “IF  YOU ONLY CORRECTED ME BACK WHEN I WAS YOUNGER, IF  YOU ONLY MADE ME LEARN RIGHT FROM WRONG, IF YOU ONLY LOVED ME ENOUGH TO MAKE ME REALIZE MY MISTAKES, I WOULDN’T BE ON THIS CELL TODAY.”

The Wind Beneath My Wings… Mama December 11, 2008

Mother — this word holds a whole world of varied meanings. As with all others, everyone conjures different pictures in his/her mind when the word is heard. And the picture changes with every stage in life that one goes through.

I haven’t grown up with my own mother because I was told I was sickly as a child and being the eldest child of a pampered daughter, the grannies found it best to take care of the “baby” me. But both my parents lived nearby and we would see each other everyday.

Today, I would share with you how the meaning of the word “MOTHER” changed for me through the years.

In my infancy, mama had been my lifeline. Without her constant loving care, I wouldn’t have been here by now. I didn’t grow up on cow’s milk like all of my siblings. We have all been breastfed and those who have gone through breast feeding can attest that it is no easy feat to wake up just when one has just drifted off to sleep because the baby has demanded for his food. I couldn’t remember much about what happened back then, but I see fragments of pictures… of both my parents and my grandparents rearing me and me having grown up a bit spoiled by the grannies.

In childhood, mama was the monster with the guava branch. I could still picture her with both hands planted on the waist, eyes wide and blabbering like a radio that’s just been loaded with new batteries, . And I always had choices then — I could choose to run as far away as I can or hide behind my grandfather (my mother’s father). Both ways, I could be certain the guava branch won’t hurt me. With me running far, mother can’t keep up and they guava branch can’t do any damage. If I hide behind my grandpa, it would be grandpa who will be hit with the guava branch, . I still remember that so well. But mama was the one who carried the rod. She imposed rules on us which we had to religiously stick to if we don’t want to be whipped. We had been assigned chores, imposed with curfews — and whoever comes home after dusk will be punished. She chose our friends, didn’t give all day to roam around and play. We could play of course, but everything had been controlled. Looking back now, I didn’t understand it then. I felt rebellious as I felt suffocated. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t given the freedom which other children obviously had. Mother, to me, was too possessive and too overprotective. It wasn’t until I was into my young adulthood — when most of my friends were either impregnated or married because they’d gotten pregnant — that I understood why I was being cooped up. She did those things because she was looking ahead into my future and knew well enough that if I wasn’t dealt with the way she dealt with me, I would have been one of those friends who have miserable lives because of getting all the freedom all too soon…

In my pursuit of a college profession, mama had been the inspiration. I was living in Ozamiz City as a part of another family, but mama had always been the reason why I have dreamed as high as I dared to dream. I dreamed that one day, I would be able to let her have a sip at a better life — something she wasn’t able to enjoy while we were growing up because my father wasn’t the good provider that he was supposed to be. Mama found ways and means to augment whatever was earned by father — hand sewing pillow cases and blankets from cloth remnants and selling them to whomever got interested. She sold a lot because she had been and still is a good designer. I remember mama braving it all — a jealous, manic and irresponsible husband, four kids, no job — I remember mama wanting to give up but choosing to hold on because of us, four kids. I remember mama getting all too tired of the situation she was in and getting it all out on us, her children…but who could blame her? Mama had been my inspiration while striving to make a better life for myself because I had vowed that I would one day get her off the rut that she had known ever since she married my father.

When I first fell in love, mama had been my confidante. I had friends of course, but telling it to mama had seemed like the most appropriate thing to do. When I first had a boyfriend, I told her about it. She didn’t have to worry that much though… I was already 20. I let her read the love letters and she would share a piece of her mind. Oh, she didn’t say anything bad about Jerry, my first boyfriend — only telling me that if I choose to marry the man, she won’t disagree, but she’d be stomping and crying like a child who’s been denied a cone of ice cream in the middle of the road. Now, if you had been me, what would you make out of the situation? But with Efren, she didn’t have anything to say. I guess, what people say about the parents’ gut feeling on the intended lover of their children is correct. It seems they see the things we choose to ignore. I’m glad I listened to Mama because if I didn’t my life wouldn’t have been anything different from the life she has had… I know because Mama had followed her heart instead of listening to her parents’ advise against marrying my father… Mama had been and still is a mirror to me…

When I got married, mama had been the steadying hand. When I felt uncertain and was overwhelmed with the newness of it all, I had always relied on the stability of mother’s judgment and took it for granted that she was always there. I didn’t fear anything because I have been certain of her presence in my life. It didn’t bother me that Efren would be leaving me for months every year because there had always been my mama. When the children were growing up, I didn’t worry that some nanny would beat them while I am away because I was confident that I had left them in the care of the one person who loves them as much as I do … my Mama. When the children got sick, I didn’t worry too much because Mama shared the anxiety with me. Mama, had been the wind beneath my wings.

Mama is no longer with me… she’s flown to Ohio to join my sister. In my earlier blogs… especially the ones right after she left, I had been telling about the adjustment I was and still am going through to stand strong on my own — I have a husband, but his work keeps him far way. I have my father nearby, but I can’t count on him. It has not been easy; it will never be easy, but if anything, her departure has been the springboard that I needed to jump from where I had been — the dependent daughter to the self-sufficient wife and mother. I know it will never be easy, but I also know I will make it through — because I am my mother’s daughter; because even despite the distance, I can still draw strength and inspiration from one remarkable woman — the wind beneath my wings — MY MAMA.

In the Quiet of the Night December 10, 2008

In the quiet of the night

I lay wrapped in your embrace,

My precious love

You are my heart, my destiny

For it is through you

That God has given

His best gift to me

In the quiet of the night

I lay wrapped with the memory

Of how we had been

Of how we used to be

For we used to smile smiles

That bring rings to our laughters

Like carefree children

In the quiet of the night

I lay wrapped with questions

That gnaw at my heart

That freezes my hopes

Have you changed?

Have I changed?

Sometimes, I feel I know nothing anymore…

In the quiet of the night

I lay wrapped with fears

That we might be so close

Yet our hearts are far apart

Are you discontented?

Am I not enough anymore?

I can’t help it, I’m afraid

In the quiet of the night

As I lay wrapped in embrace

By you, my love

May you believe somehow

That it is through you

That God has given

His best gift to me…

Most marriages go through days of uncertainty especially during the days when it just began and looks and feels like it’s soon to end.

This one’s written during those times… those times of endless arguments and crying and holding on and fighting to keep afloat despite the upheaval of the sea we were sailing through.

This was written years ago… but I keep them to remind me that what my husband and I share today is a product of sacrifices, compromises and everything…

I’m Sorry, Love December 10, 2008

Years ago, when my marriage was still new, I brought with me the stubborness of singlehood including the tantrums and all the blah blahs…

Naturally, my husband would complain a lot and in return, I would reason out a lot. Arguments seemed endless and there just seemed no area where we could agree upon. Hard headed as I am, I know I am not an easy woman to tame.

I still haven’t changed. I’m still hard to tame and I know I can never be tamed by anyone. I can be independent to a fault and stubborn to a fault and it had been one cause of conflict earlier in my marriage. My husband has learned to accept that. And I have learned to slow down a bit and mellow down a bit.

Sometimes though, I come to a point when I think about what would have happened if I was married with someone other than my husband. Would he be able to live with my stubborness? Would he be able to live with my independence?

This poem was written when he was still working as a seaman in Japan. I really sent him the typewritten replica of this poem enclosed with a card because I knew I had irked him many times within that short two year period of the marriage then(this was written in 1999 yet). Now, we are to celebrate our 1th wedding anniversary in April and thanks God, we have gone so far.

Some wives think that saying I’m sorry is synonymous with surrendering to her husband’s every whim. I say, it is acknowledging that I can make mistakes and therefore, can make changes in my personality which could be a hindrance for my marriage to progress. But I will not allow my husband to treat me like a doormat or to abuse me physically or emotionally or verbally. He knows me better than that. And I also know that to nag him, to threaten to leave him or to resort to shouting obscenities will not him make change him, change me or change the way things are. Instead, they would just make matters worse.

For me, it is never shameful to say:

I’M SORRY LOVE

I’m sorry, love

If I have fallen low

From your expectations

I tried, you see

But what you have always wanted

I could not seem to be

I am my own person

The person that you see

So, please love and love me

For everything I will be.

I’m sorry, love

If I have hurt you

If I have somewhat

Slashed you with my tongue

I didn’t mean anything, you see

And I took it for granted

You’ll always be there for me

No matter what

No matter where we’ll be

I pictured you always loving me

I’m sorry, love

If I am not

Your picture of perfection

If I sometimes smudge my face with lipstick

If I stumbled when I walked

Or mumbled when I talked

Please just hold me up

Each time I fall

That’s what I need from you

Most of all

I’m sorry. love

If I grabbed your pillow at night

Or accidentally swung my hands all over your face

If I rolled farther away

From your arms as we slept

Perhaps, it just felt hot

Or I never knew at all

For all I want is you close to me

From that day we met till eternity.

I’m sorry, love

If to you, I am not the ideal mother and wife

You see, I once lived

In unbearable strife

And vowed each and everyday

Never to let anyone

Come freely into my life

But I love you, you must know

Though I can’t seem to let it show.

I’m sorry, love

If I did everything wrong

… cried when we should have talked

… never tried to learn to cook

These are just two of the things, I know

Which have hurt you

More than I’ll ever know

Be patient with me

Help me to grow

As you help me become the wife and mother

That I ought to be.

Thoughts December 10, 2008

my thoughts soar

like eagle’s wings

in a cloudless sky

flapping, yet its sound unheard

as I stare without seeing

at the vast expanse of memories

my thoughts…

like a time machine

that brings me back

to those blissful moments

when you wrapped me in your embrace

when you assured me with kisses

when you whispered in my ears

that you love me

it brings me back to the time

when we walked hand in hand

under a star-spangled sky

my thoughts long for the moment

when i could hold you near once more

for time has intruded

and miles has set us apart

yet, distance does not matter

if we won’t let it matter

and if we are truly bound

by this love we vowed to cherish

through all eternity…

Loving Ties December 10, 2008

I could never scale the length

Or the width of my love

For there is no constraint

To my feelings…

I have tied you with respect

For I want you to grow

In your own way

So you can love me more…

My string stretches

Towards where you might want to go

For I have tied you with liberty

—the only string I know

Which will lead you back to me

Everytime you wish to get away.

You’re free to fly

Free to soar the vastness of your sky

I won’t clip your wings

No matter how much I want to

For if I did, I’d then be holding you

From loving me more….

You are yourself…

Son of the earth

But with all the elemental endowments

Of a god himself

But most of all,

You are mine

And will stay mine

For fate has entwined us

For a lifetime.

I wrote this poem for my husband more than six years ago….on February 2, 2000. Quite a long way back. And certainly, there have been a lot of changes in both of us. But whatever we have gone through together, no matter the physical distance between us, our faith in the two of us has still remained. It wasn’t a smooth journey. We’ve had met a lot of roadblocks along the way. Instead of blaming each other, we choose to hold each other’s hands and plow through the obstacle together. In every marriage, a lot of music is played… well, it doesn’t really matter how well you both dance, what matters is for the both of you to dance to the same tune together. What good is being the best dancer if you and your partner can’t seem to agree at the best music to accompany your steps? In a marriage, the best tune to dance to is respect.