My Wish For You This Day

May the Christmas season bring you unspeakable joy. One that is ultimately hinged on something greater than the love of family and friends. A joy that outlasts the merriment that presents, good food and a glass of wine bring. A joy that is found on having Christ reign in your hearts and lives, and the kind of joy that invades  your entire being and touches others profoundly.

Enjoy your time with the family as I have with mine. Savor every moment, revel in every laughter, and pause every now and then to appreciate those who surround you. Think of yourself less and give of yourself more. Love, is in the first place, the very reason why He came. Have a happy Christmas friends!

Desire

Desire is a strange animal. It lies at the center of things—and yet, at times, it seems to be the villain that gets us into a peck of trouble. We come into the world crying our heads off- wanting, needing, desiring. Everything we do from then on is about needing or wanting something. We are painfully incomplete. What we do with that shapes the story of our lives. Desire- longing- can lead us home to God. It can bring us into the arms of those we love. And sometimes, it can send us right over the edge of the proverbial cliff. 

                                                                                                                                    -Paula Heart

Wedding Marathon

Three weddings in one week, is that insane or what? December really is the new June. I’ve travelled from Alabang to Quezon City and then  flew to Davao, putting on three hats: a wedding emcee, a secondary sponsor and then a bride’s maid. It has been a frantic ride for me, as you can imagine.

Albeit stressful, the three celebrations were such a thrill to be a part of. It was like an emotional journey into three love stories that would inspire all the hopeless romantics out there (*coughs). Every ceremony was unique— beautiful and special in its own way, warmed by the love of friends and family.

It was so surreal to see my cousin, who I used played with while growing up, come out of her room as a woman in a flowing white gown, about to be given to marriage. All three brides were absolutely stunning, breath-taking even. They were effortlessly lovely and radiated the entire day, smiling and greeting everyone with glimmer in their eyes and happiness painted all over their faces. The gradual and graceful march down the aisle is like that of a movie scene you’d play a hundred times over. It was simply captivating.

But what fascinated me the most, what really moved me, quite surprisingly, were the men that waited for them at the altar—sobbing inconsolably like a little girl. So much for the Bro Code, huh? Maybe it was because two of my closest guy friends, Aldrin and DJ, became so vulnerable on their wedding day that I could not help but cry when I saw the side of them they never dared to show before. The vows they made for Micah and Mitchie just melted my heart, and I started tearing up like an idiot. The vows they wrote and struggled to say to their brides were a public display of their undying devotion and a solemn promise enclosed in mushy words and poetic language that only real men can pull off.  Kudos to you two! *Slow clap.

The three weddings got me absolutely kilig. I felt gushy all over, teary-eyed most of the time, and happy for my friends and cousin. And after all the romantic music has faded into the background, the flowers dry up, the reception venue swept clean, and my feelings of euphoria subsided, the joy remained with me. 

I got to see first hand what true love looks like, thanks to this wedding marathon. I witnessed three couples who have been through so much in their relationships before arriving at the altar. I saw two imperfect people come together in holy matrimony, embracing this imperfection and willing to forgive perpetually, in love. I have the privilege of knowing their love stories and see it consummate into a "happily ever after". I got to see three girls close to my heart mature into womanhood and three gentlemen who are willing to give of their lives for them. The fleeting passion of romance and infatuation can never come close to the wonders of being tied to a beloved forever. It's the commitment that makes love all the sweeter and a wedding seals the deal. Oh marriage is difficult and messy alright, but it is also beautiful, everlasting, and magical, and worth fighting for. The single girl in me is resolved to not settle for anything less. 

The Story Behind the Heartbreak

It's been three days but I still have not stopped crying. I'm crushed and my chest still throbs in pain every now and then.

I'm heartbroken. And I never want to move on.

My post last Monday gained a lot of public attention and outrage. I like that. However, the issue I raised will only be another sad story of injustice if no one learns from it, if no one takes home a lesson or two from the incident I witnessed and the mistake I made. Hence, this full account.

It was around midnight when I rode the Zapote-Baclaran jeep last Sunday. I was very sleepy and so was the little girl sitting in front of me. She was probably around 8-10 years old and was carrying a plastic bag with mangoes inside. Sitting beside her was a man in his 40's who seemed to me was her father. She was leaning her head on his knee, attempting to sleep as the jeep took off.

For most of the trip I could notice the little girl being so restless and grumpy. She was mad at her dad for something. She was probably having tantrums, I thought.There was nothing unusual about the two of them. The man's left hand was holding the iron bar in front of him and his right was holding the girl.

Suddenly, my heart began to race when I realized how the little girl reminded me so much of the children being sexually trafficked, the ones I have read and studied about for years. However, that was a mere suspicion so I observed the two carefully. The man was sleeping—his head was bowed down and I couldn’t see his face as he was wearing a cap. His right hand was holding the girl's right thigh. I was still trying to figure out if the way he was holding her was malicious or an innocent gesture of a father to his child. 

I saw him squeeze her thigh and it was when the little girl pushed his hand away that I intervened. I confronted the man and I talked to the little girl. Some of the passengers were already staring and the man was embarrassed. I was fuming mad because if my suspicion is right then I'm looking at a pedophile in action. Do I call the police? What if he jumps off the moving vehicle, hurting the girl? Do I smack his face right now? What if I was wrong?

There were so many thoughts running through my head that time. I was still waiting for further proof that the girl was in fact being molested. I also began to doubt my intuition. Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I was just being malicious. And what confused me even more was how the little girl was still very affectionate to the man. I was waiting that she would tell on him. I was waiting, staring sharply at the man and observing his every move. I didn't have proof. I seriously did not know what to do. 

It was happening so fast and my mind was clouded with so much anger, I didn't realize my stop was already right around the corner. Before I went down the jeep, I warned the man again and I talked to the girl. It was when I was already going down when I heard the man sheepishly say, "Thanks, thanks!".

I saw the jeep leave. And my head started to clear up. Did I actually hear him say, "thanks"?

I said a cuss word under my breath and my knees grew weak realizing that I just let a child molester get away.

Walking to my house was almost unbearable. I wanted to scream and cry out loud. I recalled every scenario in the jeep and confirmed within myself that my suspicion was right. I tried so hard to remember every detail of the moments prior to the confrontation. I was probably in a state of shock or panic that I didn’t see then what I knew now.

It appears to me that the reason why the girl was being irritable the entire time was not because she was sleepy but because she was being violated right then and there. His right hand was most probably not placed behind her back for support but was instead reaching for her genitals and this is the reason why the girl was so restless and cranky the entire trip. He pretended to be asleep so that when the girl would get upset, he wouldn’t appear to have caused it. She remained affectionate because the man was probably her dad or uncle, and she did not understand what was being done to her, but her body resisted his touch, hence her reaction.

Of course my analysis came in late, much too late. I sobbed in my bedroom and cried myself to sleep. I was being tortured by the thought of how the girl is now being molested at home. I kept blaming myself for letting the man get away. I felt like a complete imbecile. The very reason why I was in law school was to help little girls like her, but then I Iet one slip right out of my fingers. I have memorized the elements of a crime, but couldn’t recognize it when it was staring me in the face. I was advocating for children’s rights, but didn’t fight for it when I had the chance.

In my utter helplessness, I turned to the Lord. With my Bible open and my eyes streaming with tears, I prayed for the girl. I can’t do anything now but my God can. My heart literally felt like it was breaking in two, but at the same time I was being held so strongly by Jesus. He will act. I know it.  

I wish I could already share a happy ending to this story, but no. After I filed for police blotter and gave a sketch of the perpetrator’s profile and that of the girl’s, I was determined to find the man on my own. I will look for him, and I will find him, and I will kill him. Okay maybe not the last phrase, but I will not back down. Maybe I’ll do something crazy like ride the jeep at midnight every now and then. I’ve also thought of coordinating with more police stations. Whatever. All I know is that the next time I will see the man again, and I’m praying so hard that it happens, I will be ready. I now have a policeman who will respond anytime and the DSWD’s hotline in my phone. The next time, I will not let him get away. The next time, justice will be served.

The ‘woulda-coulda-shoulda’ will not help anyone now, especially not the girl; but I am hoping that no one else reading this article would make the same mistake as I did. After consulting with experts, talking to the police, getting opinions on Facebook, and ruminating deeply, I have come up with this:

An Idiot’s Guide To Responding To Child Abuse:

1. TRUST YOUR INTUTION, if you think someone is being sexually harassed, then most probably it’s true.
2. TAKE A RISK, don’t over-analyze things since a child’s welfare is at stake here.
3. DO NOT ASSAULT the perpetrator, instead ask the driver to proceed to the nearest police station.
4. IF THERE IS NO POLICE AROUND, then you may ask for the help of traffic enforcers.
5. GET THE NAME of the perpetrator or if possible take a picture of him.
6. TALK TO THE VICTIM, make sure the child knows that what is being done to him/her is wrong.
7. CONTACT DSWD, they’re open 24 hours (0917-7030967 and 4166839)
8. IF HE GOT AWAY, file a police blotter for future reference.
9. PUT JUSTICE into your own hands. Look for the man, shoot his legs, pin him down and chop-off his _________.
10. I WAS KIDDING about number 9.  

However this thing ends, there is one thing I am sure of: I am forever wrecked. The girl's face will always be plastered in my heart and the thought of her will probably make me cry everyday. Whatever else action I will take on in the days to come, I know this is only one of the many cases I will relentlessly fight for in my lifetime. Others would read this story, be moved, and go on with life, but I know things will never the be the same again for me. God has made an imprint in my soul through this incident and I feel His heart for justice now more than ever. There is no turning back for me, not after being ruined like this.

"I know this painful experience will make me know You even better and will one day save so many little girls. So go ahead Lord, break my heart some more."

LOVING HIM IN THE MUNDANE

            Two years ago, I realized I had an addiction. I was an “events” junkie. Nothing sends up shivers down my spine more than a spectacular event-- an out of the ordinary experience. Somehow there was an unsettling feeling whenever my days would seem run-of-the-mill. And my life in general had to matter. Even though I was barely 21 years old then, I had this nagging itch within me to do something significant for humanity. My motivation was simple, to make Jesus Christ known… in the grandest way possible. In my youthful, overly zealous mind, God deserved nothing less than “radical”. Ordinary or average was simply not an option. So the past two years were spent on exactly just that.

             

            Right after graduation, I juggled full time work in the Congress as a consultant and a number of ministries in church. I fed the poor, reached out to the prostituted women, taught Bible lessons to street children, provided for missionaries, lead prayer meetings, organized evangelistic concerts with thousands in attendance, said yes to so many speaking engagements, attended conferences after another. Everything I did was grand. The next year, I enrolled to study Theology in ATS while finishing an online degree in Diplomacy. Sensing that I had a couple of hours of free time I applied for a job, which placed me in a whirlwind of activities: going all over Manila to organize one event after another. So you see, “events” was my opium.  

            Picture that adrenaline-induced lifestyle I just narrated and juxtapose it to my current one. I wake up at 6am and after breakfast I study for eight hours straight, glued to the same chair all day long. I go to class by 5pm and stay there until 9pm, then head home, eat dinner and sleep. Then the routine goes on the next day, from Mondays through Saturdays. Eat, sleep and study. How uneventful, right? Needless to say, it’s a world of difference from the action-packed life I had the past two years. When before, “routine” was such a dreaded thing, now I actually have learned to live with it and embrace the “r” word every single day. I guess this is the reason why I hesitated for so long to enter law school. The thought of being locked down for four to five years of my life, solely dedicated to the study of law was a nightmare. I didn’t want to be removed from the battlefield. There was no place I would rather be but in the frontlines. To me, being in law school is analogous to a soldier who ends up brushing the toilet bowl and fixing the bunk when his comrades are out there getting killed in the combat zone, one hand putting pressure on a wounded leg and the other firing shots at the enemy. I wanted action! And I was certain I will not get any in law school.

            My phobia of the mundane gradually disappeared when I became part of the Heroes Community. Slowly but surely the gospel transformed my heart and renewed my very narrow mind. Hearing the gospel again and again made me see that Jesus Christ lived and thrived in the ordinary. In the Stepford God Series, I became more aware of one attribute of God that we so often overlook, His humanity. We are too fascinated by the exalted God: the burning bush, peels of thunder and lightning, the magnificent scene in the throne room. But we so often forget that the same exalted God was also incarnated in Jesus Christ. He was robed in glory and adorned by the majesty of heaven but entered humanity in the form of a lowly babe. I could just imagine him, growing up just like any other Jewish teen. The God of the universe who fashioned the world into being, learns how to pound a nail against the wood to make a table. The One who spoke words and life came about, had to learn the Torah as a young lad and go through the rigors of study to become a Rabi. Jesus Christ’s 33 years of existence, was not all about signs, wonders and miracles. He was fully Divine, yes, but also fully human. Humanity entails Him going through the mundane experiences of life and yet glorifying His Father in Heaven in everything. “He had to be made like his brothers in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God” (Hebrews 2:17).

        Studying the Book of Hebrews made me appreciate that who Jesus Christ is and what He has done is more than enough for me. I need not strive to live an extraordinary life, because I am living for Him—whose love for me is nothing close to ordinary. My life right now is a far cry from the ones laid out in the Hall of Faith in chapter 11 of Hebrews, but it’s fine by me. I may not shut the mouths of lions, see the dead raised to life again, die a martyr’s death, but I know I have my God’s approval as I glorify him in the humdrums of my everyday existence. It doesn’t really matter to God if the things that we do for him is grand or simple, big or small. What counts in the economy of heaven, is the amount of love you put in. As I fix my eyes on Jesus, there can be magic in the mundane. So to today, I worship God and glorify Him as I brew my coffee in the morning, as I write my notes for class, as I underline every doctrine in my law books and as I carry out my household chores. Even though schedule in school is defined by routine, I realized that when you’re in love with Him, everything becomes beautiful—even the most ordinary things in the most ordinary days. So yeah, I don’t mind being in the sidelines and brushing the toilet bowl!