Grateful For Small Blessings

I look out the window on this rain-drenched day. The narra tree that stirs my senses with its sweet scented flowers during summer is bare. there are a handful of golden leaves, remnants of its verdant days the months past.

I try to imagine its tiny yellow flowers that make me smile in the middle of a windy but blistering day.

I picture in my mind standing beneath the lofty tree, a shower of petals raining upon me. I smile at the silly thought. Why does a simple act that others may think foolish, feel so right?

Night is falling fast. It is, after all, December. The days are shorter, the nights longer. No one counted on rains to dampen the Christmas spirit. But more than the shopping, the wrapping, the merry-making, Christmas holds a deeper meaning.

Is there no other way to demonstrate love except through gifts? Are we being more compassionate, loving, generous, if we shower people around us with material things?

I set aside last Saturday to give someone a much-needed reprieve from what is turning out to be a hellish existence. I had things to do but they seemed insignificant compared to that simple act of giving my time to someone who needs it but will never ask.

And while I could have earned more had I stayed home to finish my work, the experience was far more rewarding and fulfilling. Time is truly precious when we value it most. A stroke of the hand, a light hug, mirthful laughter. The comfort it brings is priceless.

There is much to be grateful for. Sometimes, we just don’t see them because blessings are not always grand. And we need to be still, to empty our minds of worldly thoughts, to recognize and appreciate them.

Abuse comes in many forms. The wounds and welts will heal. But words leave such a deep mark. As do negligence and apathy.

On a few occasions, I have been at the receiving end of meanness, too. Sometimes, even when I thought I was over it, the pain lingers, the memory remains. But they are nothing compared to the horrors I recently heard. It was all bottled up inside a heart that struggled against bursting. So it is the mind that took the blow and that which must suffer.

I pray things will get better. I pray hope will prevail. And love will overcome. And I thank the Lord for all small blessings I do not recognize and have taken for granted.

 

 

 

Christmas musing

It is 12 noon of December 22. The sky is overcast and in fact, I can hear raindrops overhead and feel a cool breeze.  That’s comforting, but I cannot recall a rainy Christmas. Oh well, this is one Yuletide season where I totally feel out of sorts.

There is no urge to really shop. I’ve been content coming across some tiangge (flea market or bazaar) or store wherever I may be and if I see anything that catches my fancy for someone else, then I get it. Otherwise, there is absolutely no plan in my head what I’m supposed to get as gifts for people. And the really weird thing is I am not panicking or frantic.

If there is anything I truly want for Christmas it is PEACE and QUIET. Since the middle of November my world has been turned upside down, inside out and even as I try to snap out of it, there are too many reminders of what I went through that has seemingly drained me of the Christmas spirit.

I pretty much came to a lot of realizations in the last several weeks, the most important being: money may be the means to an end, but its possession can never truly make you happy.

I’ve been a witness to so many changes around me and what I saw either disappointed, frustrated or appalled me. Not a good feeling with Christmas just around the corner.

Yet at the same time, my experiences in the last several weeks also made me realize that for as long as I am able, and when I know it will make a difference in another person’s life, I can give and give until it hurts. And at the end of it all, I will feel a fullness of heart even when it came as a test of my spirit.

And the tests have been many. But for as long as I surrender it all to the Lord, then I know there is light at the end of the tunnel. There may have been instances when I was impatient — largely because the emotional and mental burdens were taking its toll on me — but I simply had to turn to Him and affirm that my trust was in HIM.

Sometimes, I still get the feeling that everyone wants a piece of me. I’ve been running a thousand and one errands for other people, and I felt I was losing myself in the process. So last Saturday, I made it a point to go out (my decision) and do whatever it is I wanted, and just be ALONE. I relished eating by myself and not having to watch the time because I was expected to do something or be somewhere else. I wish I could sleep the day away but even when I want to do just that, there are too many things happening that make it impossible.

Still, I am grateful. I cannot NOT be. Because I wake each morning, and am able to face the challenges of a new day. I have people who matter to me and my needs are provided for.

I am trying to learn the art of tuning out things in a big way. To just think of happy thoughts, of thoughts that will keep me calm. It is a difficult exercise but I do give myself a pat in the back each time I am successful.

God is with me. That much I know, so all will be right. I simply have to kick myself often to remind myself that.

 

Scrooge?

I should be writing happy thoughts because it’s Christmas in a few days time. Instead, I’ve just been outside of the house, chasing some children away…

They carolled (very badly, according to 4-year-old niece) the first time. And they have been returning every day since pounding on the gate for Christmas favors. Is this a business now? What I so despise is that they will loiter in the driveway and when guests or customers drop by the house will descend upon them asking for gifts!

Even when I hardly feel the Christmas spirit, with the Day just around the corner, I am hardly a Scrooge. And I’d like to think I’ve done my share of giving weeks ago and it has yet to actually end, though I really don’t have to.

But I hate the thought that uncouth children (pardon the term but that’s what they’ve demonstrated) will come knocking on doors, mouthing expletives when they don’t get what they want, and hanging outside your property like they have every right to because it is Christmas.

Christmas does not give you the license to pester other people for gifts. You ask humbly, and be grateful for whatever is given to you. Sadly, many children are apparently ignorant of this. They pounce on you like bees, claw at each other when not everyone is given, then scream foul words at the giver.

I am horrified watching children, whose ages range from 4 to 10, gathered at bus stops, ready to jump in or badger passengers and conductors asking for money! They run toward the buses before they halt, then kick or pound on them when they are not allowed to get on, and even have the gall to chase them away.

Then I think to myself, are they doing this because they want a little something for Christmas, or are they part of a syndicate operating in the metropolis who send these kids off to “collect” gifts which they have to turn over at the end of the day?

So how should you handle children engaged in this? I’ve always preferred giving food stuff to less fortunate kids, but I really steer clear of those who look like they just want to put one over you. And I so, so feel bad having to be mad about children who are making it a Christmas business to beg or “carol”.

I need something to make me feel better today… maybe some genuine Christmas spirit will come my way!

 

Divisoria Day

As I write this, I feel like all the grime, stench and pollution emitted by Divisoria is still stuck on me. Let me make it clear, though, that I have taken a bath — far longer than I usually do — just to rid myself of what I accumulated in the heart of bargain center Manila from 7 am to 3 pm.  Actually, we (my mother, sister and I) were just in the “shopping mode” from 7:30 am to 12:00 noon. We had to break for lunch in the people-popping foodcourt of the Divisoria Mall, and were on our way home around 1 pm.  Alas, because the vehicle was parked along notorious Recto Avenue it took us a good two-and-a-half hours to crawl our way out of there and drive home.

As I stood at the elevator landing of the mall, I felt so lost and overwhelmed because of the crowd that streamed endlessly to kick off the Christmas shopping spirit. They were like an ant colony making their way to collect food to cart for storage till Christmas Day. Man, woman and child, young and old alike braved the heat of the sun and the myriad odors and sensations that define Divisoria. And I thought, anyone who runs smack into the kind of crowd we did today (it’s a holiday right after payday) will feel one of two things: be as overwhelmed as I was, or (and I think more feel this way) go crazy with excitement and go on frenzy rummaging, bargaining and splurging even the most meager of their pay or bonuses for clothes, shoes, toys, wares and what-have-you that vendors are hawking left, right and center.

I gave up after squeezing, bumping, twisting my body every which way just to move along between stalls, the width spanning three people abreast, but which was mostly clogged because of buyers and delivery boys shouting “Watch your heads!” as they careened with heavy loads on their shoulders. I could hardly appreciate the merchandise when it was agonizing just to make my way from one stall to another, while side-stepping owners packing huge boxes of their goods right smack in the middle of the narrow hallways.

Where I could wait for my companions in an area that was least populated (sigh, there was hardly that), I would stand there, go around some, and again be bamboozled by all the sounds around me. Three different kinds of music were blaring north, south and east of me, plus vendors and sales ladies barking their sales pitches not to mention the din created by buyers, promenaders and the curious who did not seem to mind all that was going on.

My carry-all bag was not even half-filled but I neither had the patience nor energy to shop. I was raring to get out but finding the right entrance was an adventure in itself. And I could not win with my sister and mother, who were champions at stopping to check out whatever merchandise was in sight while negotiating their way to the door.

Before finally making our way to the car, I had to endure another 30 minute wait for them to pick up gift wrappers, etc. While outside praying for the shade to hold till we could leave, it was an entirely different assault on the senses. Vendors were as busy out there as they were inside the mall, selling plastic bags, or colored bags bearing Winnie the Pooh, Dora or Mickey designs that came in small, medium, large and extra large sizes. Several young men were milling around waiting for the next set of cargo that needed unloading. And boy, do they work fast!

The usual mode of transportation there is the pedicab, but drivers who toil pedaling under the elements ferrying passengers and cargo, have wisened up and innovated by attaching motor pumps to their bicycles. It’s a cacophony of sounds there — people talking, vendors shouting, guards blowing their whistles, police speaking through a bullhorn — but the amazing thing is no one is complaining. Sure there would be some hecklers or a couple of guys arguing, but it’s as if in all that chaos, everything was in order.

As we crawled our way out of the main street that would finally lead us home, it was an altogether different experience watching through the window of our vehicle. I saw all manner of goods, produce and wares being hawked on pushcarts. It was lucky if the wheel turned 360 degrees each time we inched forward. And because we were mostly at a standstill for more that 5 minutes at a stretch, we managed to add to our purchases, this time while in the comfort of our ride, what I’d call actual “window shopping”…

I think the pictures will speak better for themselves, but I have to muster the energy to download, edit and upload them again before presenting them here. So that will be for another time, and maybe you can come back and check out the visuals of all that I’d been a witness to today.

Yes, I still managed to enjoy myself in spite all the inconveniences. But no, I have no wish to go crazy again by heading back there, especially during the rest of the holiday season.

Divisoria has a life of its own. It lives and breathes commerce. The hawkers, vendors and buying public give it life. And I? I was merely a spectator for a day…

 

Signs of Christmas

The air is nippy now. Late at night and in the early morn, it is nice to snuggle in bed to feel warm and think warm thoughts. I have no doubt Christmas this year will be so scaled down because of the calamities suffered by Filipinos recently. But perhaps, it will be a more meaningful Christmas for many. The spirit of gratitude will prevail.

The fact that we will get to celebrate Christmas is in itself a grateful moment. That we were spared by typhoon Ondoy is another. Dad had a close call with his heart attack a few months back and is now recovering from heart bypass. The mere chance to watch the glare of the afternoon sun with a backdrop of cloud wisps made like strokes of a paintbrush, and a few hours later catch Luna on the rise is a miracle for me.

Driving two nights ago, we passed by a small store bursting with color from parols with their dancing lights. Sigh, no camera. Will have to remember to go back and capture the scene (especially for someone very special who misses Pinoy Christmas).

By six o’clock dusk has fallen, the call to end the day resonating. As I write this, classes are once again suspended because another typhoon — Santi — is expected to hit land today. It will be a very wet All Saints’ and All Souls Day. Another opportunity to humble ourselves and seek God’s protection.

More than the usual signs of Christmas, it is the very strong spirit of giving, of sharing that prevails among people. It is the only way we can make the Yuletide season truly meaningful. The great floods spawned by Ondoy and Pepeng drove home that point — we can accumulate and possess so many things, but in the end it is life that matters. It is what we must be grateful for.

Just as I celebrate each day with thanksgiving, I pray for healing for those who are ill or suffering from some debilitating disease. And I pray, too, for those caring for them. In some ways, it is a cross to bear, but one that will make us all better persons in the end.

Let me close with lyrics to a song: “When I worry and I can’t sleep/I count my blessings instead of sheep/ And I fall asleep/ Counting my blessings…

We always must…