In a Race that Matters

The battle that began in the cosmic arena rages in a believer's heart (mine in particular). For more than a decade, I have had countless inner struggles between the natural, old self and the spiritual, reborn man in me. I may have done such a fine job of looking together-- cool,calm and collected. Outwardly, I have managed to keep a tight rein on my deadly tongue, rebuked a fellow believer for some off-the-track dealings, turned a little preachy here and there and proclaimed all was well and good in my own sweet world. But in the dark of night, under my pungent blanket (thanks to my younger son's nightly response to the call of nature), the battle rages and overwhelms-like a breathtaking, action-packed movie scene that leaves me on the edge of my seat, ambivalent whether to sit still or take flight. Alone and uncovered before my maker,I finally feel the weight of this raging drama. I am no spectator. I am on center stage and my heart is the battle field. Forces from all

" We're together again, just praising the Lord we're together again in one accord Something good is going to happen, something good is in store We're together again just praising the Lord.." This was our theme song during the early 90s in the UPLB Navs -- a campus Christian ministry anchored on the mission of knowing Christ and Making Him Known. I was a nerve-wracked kiddo fresh from the province and an easy prey to opportunists lurking in the university when I found the Navs by chance (nope, it was Divine intervention.) On a rainy afternoon sometime in July 1991,infront of CEC building at UPLB, I chanced upon two cute(?) but promdi-looking (read: sheepish) guys on their way to attend a fellowship (I later learned they were Joey O and Kuya Rico P.) At that time, I was waiting for a friend who invited me to attend the Victory Christian Fellowship in the same building. I asked the two guys (there was nothing suspicious about them. They in fact looked as nai

Sometimes you can't help but rub on your children your own passions (or should I say,frustrations and unfulfilled dreams). Growing up, I had a thing for the arts -- acting, public speaking and writing. I would have ventured into dancing and singing as well had I not learned early on that I had gawky moves and my singing voice only sounded good inside a 2x2 square-meter john. Well, my acting landed me top recognition in 1988 during the talent night competition of the National Secondary Schools Press Conference in Malaybalay, Bukidnon. I competed with representatives from all regions and Region V (the one I represented) stole the night at that time. That was twenty years ago. I was a fifteener raring to show my 'brilliant' ideas in English Editorial Writing. Nope, I didn't land a spot in that tilt. What I brought home was the top honors in the talent show! I was afraid I would be swarmed with movie offers after I got off the stage. Thank goodness I still managed to bl

Just last week, I, along with other members of our cooperative came face to face with the investigator who went on a fishing expedition in our institute prompted by a letter-request from an ambitious, griping officer. The one-sided report of this grammatically-challenged, claiming to be infallible snoop became the basis of our agency head to issue a cease-and-desist order in the operations of our coop. The run-of-the-mill report caused the spur-of-the-moment decision causing undue injury to the entire organization my husband and I helped build up in its infancy stage. Lessons learned? I am not lawyer (I could have been one had I pursued my collegiate studies at UNC where I traded intellectual swords with brilliant minds, chanting “Excelsior! “) but you don’t have to be one to identify a true-blue Perry Mason. If you want to be a laughing stock of an investigator, take the following pieces of advice:  Be emotionally involved in the case. Do not detach yourself from what you a

Last Saturday, Rovik surprised dad and me when he informed us that he already organized the kiddie members of his Sunday School for a swimming class. We were even more surprised when just a few minutes later, the kids started to arrive complete with their back packs and 'baon', all set to go swimming. Caught flatfooted, Jing and I decided to go to Walter to buy a pack of spaghetti and some food stuff as instant baon to feed the kids after swimming. We brought the kids to Laguna Hotspring at around 2pm.Gosh, the boys scampered right away and jumped into the pool without bothering to change into their swimming gears.The girlie girls-- Kayla and KC, however, changed into their swimsuits and put on borrowed floaters before they frolicked. My boys, Rovik and Orvik who are both permanent fixtures in the pool (that the owner decided to just let them swim for free day in and day out) had a blast as well. Rovik showed his fine form doing the strokes he likes best --Breast stroke

Today is October 20, exactly two weeks since I last posted. Whew, in just that span of time so much transpired already particularly in my work life.If I were to describe the events that took shape as I allowed my encoding fingers their two-week respite, it would be -- dramatic! And why not? I made a life-changing decision, I stood up to what I believed in, and in doing so even shed a tear or two.The future is still uncertain but I know, there is nothing to be afraid of at all. Just a brief narration of what I went through. I had my application for a one-year vacation leave (without pay) approved by no less than the undersecretary for public safety. After securing the signature of my agency head, I had to tag along with my former boss to get to the Department head to finally unseal the last nail of the coffin. No major questions asked (well, he asked me if I was going abroad to work. And I shook my head. I was tempted though to say, I might be -- but not to work but to have a gra

Every Sunday, after attending his Sunday school at the VCF Church in Sta Rosa, my eldest makes it his personal commitment to open up our garage to the neighborhood kids to hold his own version of Sunday school, with him as the teacher. He opens his class with a prayer, then he tells a Bible story laced with lessons kids can relate to. After each story is a question and answer portion for the kids, followed by some parlor games he leads. Of course, the class ends with a prayer. The kids, around seven of them, ranging from two to five year-olds seem always excited to attend “Teacher” Rovik’s class. They huddle and sit together on the carpet Rovik lays out in the garage every Sunday afternoon. Aside from enjoying the games, the kids also get to showcase their “talents” in singing and dancing during the talent time/portion allotted in the ‘class sked’. As a mom, my contribution is to prepare the kids’ snacks and from time to time, I pitch in the story-telling time when my son asks