Boracay scene 092

Boracay scene 092
Originally uploaded by natz62m

boats for island-hopping

3 Tanong

Here's one of many ways to turn a conversation towards the good news of Jesus...

Meron akong nabasa sa Baptist Press News release (18 September 2007). Ikinuwento ng isang evangelist kung paano nya pinapapunta ang anumang pag-uusap patungo sa pag-share ng Gospel. Meron daw siyang tatlong magagandang tanong na conversation starters. Hindi ito diagnostic questions katulad ng sa EE. Pampagana lang ng usapan, ika nga.

Una, pagkatapos makipagkilala at makigaanan ng loob sa isang bagong kakilala, itatanong niya, “Ano ang pinakagusto-gusto mong nangyari sa buhay mo ngayon?” Kung magsi-share siya, ok. Kung hindi, ok rin.

Pangalawa, kung maraming oras, itatanong niya, “Ano kaya ang pinaka-importanteng ginawa ng Diyos para sa iyo sa tanang buhay mo?” O, di ba papunta na sa mga usaping maka-Diyos? Matalino!

Pangatlo, kung seryosohan na, itatanong niya, “Sa palagay mo, ano kaya ang nire-require ng Diyos para magkaroon ng kaugnayan/relationship ang isang tao sa Kanya?” Subtle, 'no? Conversations, instead of hard sell. Nakikisabay lang sa takbo ng pagtitiwala ng kausap mo sayo. What do you think?

A Pinoy's Look at the Lord's Prayer

I'm reviewing a book by Mike Breen and Mark Kallestad, A Passionate Life (Colorado Springs, CO: NexGen, 2005). One of the themes is prayer, and the model is in Matthew 6:9-13. The teachings inspired me to attempt to approach this model prayer from my perspective as a Pinoy.

Tatay namin, kayo ang kataas-taasan,
Paano namin mapapatingkad ang kaluwalhatian nyo?

Tay, ano'ng gusto nyo? Kayo ang masusunod.
Tay, marami kami'ng kailangan sa araw na ito. I-provide nyo po....
Tay, patawarin nyo kami gaya ng pagpapatawad namin sa may utang sa'min.
Tay, h'wag nyo kaming iwan nang di kami mahulog sa tukso.
Tay, iadya nyo kami mula sa dilang masama.

Kayo lang, Tay, ang magaling, makapangyarihan, at sikat, ngayon at magpakailanman. Promise.

Pakiwari Ko

My Personality

Here something about me:

A New Discipleship Tool

Mga kapatid,

Dumating na kahapon from the printing house a discipleship tool which I wrote (with lots of thoughts from wiser and more knowledgeable people). Tingnan nyo ang cover. The blurb at the back says:

A vision for the people of God...

The New Testament describes the Church as a living organism, a body whose one head is Jesus but has many parts. It is a living community which is growing and who welcomes new members into its fold.

Who takes care of new followers of Jesus? The burden cannot be carried by the pastors and leaders only. This can be like the coming of a new baby into a family. Filipino families, in general, depend on a host of helping hands to take care of the new member of the family. There's ate and kuya, lolo and lola, auntie and uncle, friends and neighbors (if possible), and yaya for those who can afford it. Taking care of a new member of the family is a bayanihan effort. It takes a community to raise up a child.

In the same way, it takes a spiritual community to grow spiritual followers of Jesus. The more helping hands, the better. Here is where an ordinary believer can contribute to the vision of building up the kingdom of God where he is. Any maturing believer in Jesus can help by coming alongside a new follower of Jesus to help that person grow deeper and stronger in his or her relationship with the Lord. This book, Helping a New Follower of Jesus to Grow, is a tool for that kind of a growing relationship.

God works quietly and secretly among men and women who have surrendered to the Lordship of Jesus. He does not apply a forceful power that cannot be resisted. God is rather like a man planting a seed. Its success depends on the type of soil in which it is planted. Like a mustard seed, its growth is slow and undetectable. Yet at a future day, Godliness will come out in great power and glory. What is so great about it is that God invites everyone who calls upon him as Lord and Savior to partner with him in his projects. Would you like to take a part in God's kingdom work? Try it and see how great a thing God can do in you and through you.

I work with Church Strengthening Ministry as an editor. Now I'm a published writer (grabe). The book will be available at your nearest PCBS bookstore.

More than Average

Here is something from Inquirer.net that speaks of courage in the face of despair:

More than average
AGM
Inquirer

April 28, 2007

MANILA, Philippines -- I am an eternal optimist. Born to a family of pessimists with a narrow-minded view of the world, I have spent most of my life keeping my true self to myself. I may be surrounded by familiar people but none of them really knows me.

It’s a sad life. I started working a year before I started going to school. We were taught hard work at a young age. I never get to have the whole day to play but I don’t really mind.

We’re a big family. Mom and Dad can hardly support us all, so everyone needs to do his/her share. Waking up at 5 a.m. to start making hundreds of sandwiches and repacking all of them neatly is not something to look forward to in the morning. Breakfast and lunch are hurried affairs. I have borne the silent stares and taunts of kids my age for being indifferent.

Life became harder when I started going to school. We all had to wake up at 3:30 a.m. so we could finish making and delivering the goods to the canteen and still have time to take a quick bath before going to our classes.

Because there are so many of us and work occupies all of my parents’ time, they never had time to teach us the basics. When I first started wearing shoes, I put them on the wrong feet. And because my shoes were hand-me-downs from my older sister, I had to fill a lot of spaces with old newspaper so they would fit. It was a week after classes began when my mother’s co-teacher noticed that I was wearing my shoes the wrong way. She told my mom about it, and that’s how I learned to wear them the right way.

I hated rainy days. Because my shoes were over used, the soles provided very little protection and became water-logged when it rained. I would spend the whole day trying to hide my wet socks and discomfort.

We usually prepared our school clothes at night to make sure we had clean underwear and socks. We never had enough of those, and quite often we had to wash them right away after taking them off and hang them in front of the electric fan to be used the next day.

My Dad fits the stereotype of a macho man. He gambles, smokes, drinks and acts as if he had no care in the world. But he’s also the best nanny and cook that I have ever known. He never finished college, and never really had much ambition. He is contented to do the household chores while mom teaches in school.

That doesn’t mean he works less. Doing household chores and raising seven girls and one boy will surely make any woman go crazy. But not him. He pampers us by cooking exceptional meals and though the children have to work to make both ends meet, we have never missed a meal.

I’ve always preferred Dad’s cooking to Mom’s, but I have kept it a secret so that she wouldn’t feel jealous. In fact, he does everything better, be it doing the laundry or being a parent.

Mom is the disciplinarian and I almost hated her when I was growing up. She has very little patience. But we are still lucky to have a Mom like her.

When Dad goes out on his bicycle, he is certain to bring back home something good to eat: “kalamay,” “sapin-sapin,” “pichi-pichi,” “suman” or fruits. When I was picked to read during Masses for children, he made sure I would never be late. He would take me to the church every Saturday on his bicycle. But he wouldn’t go inside the church, and just wait outside until the Mass was over and then he would take me some place to eat. Those are some of my happiest memories.

I never really had a mentor or a guide. My siblings and I learned to do things on our own. Even though my Mom is a teacher, she didn’t have time to teach us. Which is quite understandable, because if you crave for sleep and rest the whole day, it takes superhuman effort to be kind and patient.

My learning skills were not at par with my older sisters’. It was harder for me to learn. I was an average student with lots of work to do. Studying was something that I could only do at school, and the time to do homework was just before dinner. I would get a scolding if I took more time for study since I was supposed to be putting “kikiam” and squid balls in sticks or rolling a thousand cheese sticks to be sold the next day. Mom could make us do anything by threatening to make us stop our schooling. (My parents don’t know how lucky they are.)

If I have anything in excess, it is pride. I don’t admit defeat and can’t stand being laughed at. Growing up with my father, I became like him, complacent and easy to please. I liked going to school because it was easier than staying at home and repacking some goods. In school I got to sit and rest the whole day and could even draw on my notebooks whenever the teacher was not around. I had friends and pretended that my life was as easy as theirs.

I was in Grade I when our teacher called each one of us to read an English story. Those who couldn’t were ordered to stand up for the rest of the class period.

I was one of them. I couldn’t read even a word. When the bell rang, that was the signal for us to go out. A classmate made fun of me, saying in her loud, squeaky voice: “Ay, anak ng teacher ‘di marunong bumasa! Bobo! Bobo! Bobo!” [“A teacher’s daughter -- and she can’t read! Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!”]

I remember feeling my face burn with tears and shame. I have never forgotten that day.

Something good came out of the bullying: It made me work harder and throw away all my lame excuses about being a slow learner and not having enough time. My Mom was amazed when I asked for the Grade 2 text books and I began studying them during the summer vacation.

The next school year, I got first honors and felt like I had won a personal battle.

It did not stop there. I learned to like learning and developed an insatiable appetite for reading. At the age of 9, I had read all of my sister’s high school text books and even summarized “Noli Me Tangere” and “El Filibusterismo.” Indeed, I have read all the random books in our house, and found refuge in them.

I used my time conscientiously and worked twice as hard. I would have loved to finish each school year with honors but most of the time, I could only catch up with the lesson after the exam had been given. I could have earned higher grades if only my body were as strong as my will. My only consolation was that I really did learn everything taught in school and none of my teachers could say that I wasted their effort and time.

I am still a Daddy’s girl. I love to cook just like him, and he has taught me his secrets. We are still not well off, but I don’t have to roll a thousand cheese sticks before being allowed to go to sleep. I have finished my degree and passed the board exams. I work for only eight hours a day and spend my extra time anyway I wish. Two of my younger siblings will be graduating from college this year, and only two will be left to finish their studies. Next year will be better and I may be able to keep half of my salary.

AGM, 24, works as a chemist in a private company.

©2007 www.inquirer.net all rights reserved

This article is found in http://opinion.inquirer.net/inquireropinion/columns/view_article.php?article_id=63776

Kami'y Katagpuin

Bago ko sagutin ang post kahapon, mas makakabuti kung ilalagay natin sa context ang lahat. Many of us feel we are in a heap of trouble. So how to get a right and good perspective without losing grasp of the immediate situation? Worship. Sumamba.

Kami'y Katagpuin

Narito kami, nagpapakumbaba;
Sumasamba sa iisang Diyos.
Hinahanap namin kariktan ng 'yong mukha;
Sumasamo sa 'yong pagkilos.

Tulay:
At sa himig na hain tanging dalangin
Kami'y katagpuin...

Koro:
Iparanas mo sa 'min ang 'yong kapangyarihan;
Ipamalas mo sa 'min ang 'yong kaluwalhatian.
Hanggang ang aming kalul'wa'y mapuspos nang lubusan
At sa 'ming kalagitnaa'y bumaba
Ang kalangitan;
Dakila ang 'yong ngalan!

Para sa Tatay

The following article was forwarded to me thru an email. The original writer seems to express the "Absent Father Wound". I will post my response later.

Para sa Aking Tatay

1980 ako ipinanganak. Tatlong taon bago pinatay si Ninoy Aquino at anim na taon bago ang EDSA uprising. Taon ding ito nang nagkaroon ng malaking krisis sa langis ang buong mundo. P24.00 ang palitan ng dolyar sa piso at 48 milyon na ang populasyon ng Pilipinas. Ito rin ang taong unang pumunta ng Middle East ang tatay ko para magtrabaho.

Isang karpintero ang Tatay. Isang skilled worker. Malaki ang pangangailangan ng bansang pupuntahan ni Tatay sa mga katulad niya. Sabi ng Nanay mahirap daw ang buhay noong mga panahong iyon. Inabot na raw ang bansa ng economic depression na galing sa Europa at Amerika. Kaya minabuti ng Tatay na mag-abroad. Anupa't dalawa ang pinag-aaral niya at may bago na naman siyang bibig na pakakainin.

Parating pinapaalala sa amin ng Nanay na "nagtiis kaming magkahiwalay ng tatay ninyo para magkaroon tayo ng maginhawang buhay." Palibhasa'y parehas galing sa hirap, kaya siguro ganoon na lamang ang pananaw nila. Uuwi kada dalawang taon, tapos aalis na ulit pagkalipas ng dalawang buwan. Ganyan ang pattern ng buhay ng tatay ko.

Pumutok ang giyera sa Middle East noong 1989. Doon ko unang narinig ang mga salitang Operation: Desert Storm at Third Anti-Christ. Nandoon din si Tatay. Isang beses lamang siya nakatawag sa loob ng tatlong taon niyang pagkaka-stranded sa bansang iyon. Mabuti naman daw ang lagay niya. May tirahan naman daw sila at husto sa lahat ng pangangailangan. Hindi naman daw sila gagalawin sa giyera sabi ng embahada ng Pilipinas dahil hindi naman daw sila kasali sa awayan ng dalawang bansa at ng pakialamerong Amerika. Iyon naman pala eh, bakit ka pa rin nandyan?! Na-imagine ko na lang tuloy ang Tatay na parang isa sa mga sibilyan na dumadaan habang nakikipagbarilan ako sa larong Operation: Wolf sa SM City. Nang mahawi ang mga usok ng giyera umuwi na ang Tatay. Wala pang isang taon ay nakita ko na naman ang aking sarili na nakasakay sa arkiladong dyip para ihatid ang Tatay sa Airport papuntang Middle East. Ikaw ba naman ang magkaroon ng pinag-aaral na nurse, isang seminarista at tatlo pa sa elementarya. Kailangang kumayod, kailangang kumita.

Kung tutuusin maraming na-miss ang Tatay sa buhay naming magkakapatid, lalo na sa akin. Wala siya nang una akong magtalumpati sa entablado. Wala din siya nang grumadweyt ako ng elementarya at hayskul. Wala siya nang una akong nakipagsuntukan sa kaklase ko nang inasar ako nito habang binibigay ko ang libreng plastic na singsing na galing sa cheese curls sa kaklase kong babae. Wala din siya para turuan akong magbasketbol tulad ng ginagawa ng mga kapitbahay ko sa kanilang anak. Wala rin siya para panoorin si Kuya na contestant sa Student Canteen at ako naman para sabitan niya ng medalya para sa mga math competition na sinalihan ko. Wala siya nang dumating ako sa punto ng aking buhay, na siya ring kinakatakutan ng lahat ng katulad kong nagbibinata--ang magpatuli. Wala rin siya para turuan akong maglanggas. Wala siya nang kauna-unahang lumabas ang pangalan ko sa dyaryong pang-estudyante bilang isang editor. Ipinagtabi ko siya ng mga kopya para maipagmalaki sa kanyang pagdating. Wala siya nang una akong tumikim ng alak dahil binasted ako ng dinidigahan kong babae. Wala rin siya nang sumubok akong manigarilyo at itapon ito pagkatapos ng dalawang hithit pa lang. Wala siya, wala siya parati.

Napansin ko na lamang na mas naiibuhos naming magkakapatid ang oras naming sa labas ng bahay at sa eskwelahan. Ang Ate ay kagawad ng Sangguniang Kabataan, ang Kuya naman ay matagal nang kinuha ng seminaryo, ang dalawa kong kapatid ay may mga sarili nang kina-career at ako naman ay natutuon sa aking pagsusulat.

Dumating ang isa sa pinakamasayang araw ng buhay ko, ang pagdating ng Tatay at sabihing ito na ang huli niyang uwi dahil hindi na siya babalik ulit sa abroad.

Makalipas ang ilang buwan, trinangkaso ang Tatay. Sabi ng doktor ay overfatigue lang daw at kailangan niyang magpahinga. Pagkaraan nang ilang buwan, na-diagnose na may tumubong tumor sa utak ng Tatay at malignant na ito. Minsan naitanong sa akin ng uncle kong doktor kung nauntog ba ang Tatay o nabagsakan ng mabigat na bagay sa ulo. Nahihiyang ngiti, kamot sa ulo at isang "hindi ko po alam" lang ang naisagot ko.

Kung gaano kabilis na nadiskubre ang tumor niya sa utak ay ganun din kabilis na binawi sa amin ng Diyos ang Tatay. Habang pinagmamasdan ko ang Tatay habang mapayapa itong nakahimlay noong burol niya, nahihirapang tumulo ang luha ko. Kung tutuusin, hindi ko kilala ang taong ito. Siya ang tatay ko. Kalahati ng pagkatao ko ay galing sa kanya. Pero kung tatanungin mo ako kung anong gusto niyang timpla ng kape, kung allergic ba siya sa hipon na paborito ko, kung San Miguel o Purefoods ba ang team niya sa PBA--isang malaking EWAN lang ang maisasagot ko sa iyo. Noong bata pa ako, nasa abroad ang Tatay. Kapag nandito naman siya para magbakasyon, mas malaking oras ang nagugol niya sa pag-aasikaso ng mga papeles niya para sa susunod niyang pag-alis. Nang tumigil na siya sa pagtatrabaho, ako naman ang abala sa mga reports, periodical examinations at mga research works. Nang nasa ospital na siya, kahit makipagkuwentuhan ay mahirap nang gawin dahil halos hindi na siya maintindihang magsalita dulot ng chemotherapy.

Matagal nang patay ang Tatay. Minsan nabalitaan kong dumating na ang seaman na tatay ng boss ko, pilit ko siyang pinauuwi nang maaga. Minsan ding buong kawilihan kong pinagmamasdan ang isang kaibigan ko na nagmamadali dahil baka masaraduhan na siya ng grocery. Kailangan niyang makabili ng ingredients ng spaghetti dahil 'yun daw ang bilin ng tatay niyang na-stroke. Minsan rin nang makainuman ko ang matalik kong kaibigan habang binubuhos niya sa akin ang sama ng loob niya sa pagbabalik ng tatay niya na malupit sa kanila nang mahabang panahon at ipinagpalit sila sa ibang babae. Sa tingin ko lang, "Buti ka pa nga may Tatay pa." Syempre hindi ko sinabi iyon sa kanya. Baka mamaya tanungin pa niya ako kung kanino ako kampi, kami pa ang mag-away. Minsan din sinamahan ko ang kababata ko nang dinalhan niya ng pansit ang tatay niya sa City Jail. Hindi naman sila nagtatanong kung bakit ako ganun. Wala naman silang alam kay Tatay.

Maraming pagkakataon na nanghihinayang ako dahil masyadong maaga ang paghihiwalay namin ng Tatay. Gusto kong sisihin ang Pilipinas dahil napakahirap ng buhay dito. Sa Amerika ba may tatay na nangingibang-bansa para makapagtrabaho lang? Naisip ko tuloy na sumama na lang sa mga nagpipiket na mga migrante dahil alam ko tulad ko rin sila. Kadalasan rin sinisisi ko si Saddam Hussein at ang Gulf War dahil kinuha nila ang tatlong taon sa buhay ng Tatay. Sayang ang tatlong taong iyon. Nakalaro ko man lang sana ang Tatay ng basketbol o di kaya'y naturuan niya akong mag-bike. (Beinte anyos na ko nang matuto mag-bike).

Isa sa mga klase ko sa writing ang nagpasulat sa amin ng kahit ano tungkol sa aming mga tatay, samahan pa ng larawan kung maaari. Bigla tuloy akong nalito. Hindi ko alam kung anong tungkol sa Tatay ang isusulat ko.

Ikuwento ko kaya na isang Overseas Contract Worker si Tatay. Isang bagong bayani. Nag-aambag ng malaki sa ekonomiya ng Pilipinas. Sabihin ko kayang may larawan ng tatay kong may suot na hard hat na dilaw, construction boots at may hawak na drill at kasama niyang nakangiti ang mga kapwa niyang Pilipino with matching background na disyerto. O kaya ang larawan nilang magkakababayan habang pinagdiriwang nila ang New Year at nag-iiyakan dahil tinutugtog and Lupang Hinirang. Ang drama no?

Kuwento ko kaya na isang survivor ng Gulf War ang Tatay. Na natutulog siya at ipinaghehele ng mga Patriot at Scud Missiles. Pakita ko kaya ang mga remembrance ng Tatay na mga dull na landmines. Adventure naman ang dating nito.

Kuwento ko kaya kung paano hindi nagpabaya ang Tatay sa pagbibigay ng pangangailangan namin. Hindi kami sumasala sa pagkain, may magagandang damit, maayos na tirahan at nakakapag-aral. Siya ay naging isang good provider. Siguro isang malalim na buntong hiningang "Haaaaaay!" ang ibibigay sa akin ng mga kaklase ko.

O di kaya'y dalhin ko ang picture ni Tatay habang kini-chemotherapy siya. Ikwento ko din kaya na naging mabilis ang lahat ng mga pangyayari. Na inoperahan siya sa loob ng walong oras at binutasan ang ulo niya. Na nakalabas pa siya ng ospital. Pagkatapos ng isang linggo, agad siyang namatay. Tragic naman ang approach ko nito.

Gayahin ko kaya ang kuwento sa telebisyon na tipong galit na galit sa mundo ang anak dahil hindi ito nabigyan ng sapat na atensyon dahil inuna ng kanilang tatay ang pinansyal nilang pangangailangan. Teka, hindi naman totoo yon eh! Napaka-unfair naman 'nun kay Tatay.

Ikuwento ko na lang kaya ang isa sa mga magagandang alaala namin kay Tatay. Apat na taon ako noon. Malinaw na malinaw pa sa alaala ko ang pangyayari. Kadarating lamang ng Tatay pagkaraan ng dalawang taon. Nagkaroon ng simpleng party sa bahay. Kainuman niya ang mga kumpare niya nang tumayo siya at binuhat ako mula sa kuna ko habang pinaglalaruan ko ang bagong matchbox na pasalubong niya sa akin. Inutusan niya ako na ikuha siya ng beer sa refrigerator. Pagkakuha ko ng beer ay kinandong niya ako at buong pagmamalaki na ibinida sa mga kumpare niya na natanggap na raw ako sa local na Day Care Center dahil abot na ng kanang kamay ko ang aking kaliwang tenga kahit idaan pa sa ibabaw ng ulo ko at matatas na ako magsalita at madali raw akong matuto. Matagal din akong nanatili sa pagkakandong niya. Mistula siyang bagong dating na hari na suot-suot ang kanyang korona. Ako ang kanyang korona.

Kapag naaalala ko ito, napapawi ang lahat ng panghihinayang ko sa mga taong kailangan niyang magtrabaho at mawala sa piling namin. Mga panahong kasama ng mga tatay nila ang mga anak nila. Ito na lang ang isusulat ko. Bago ang lahat, pupunasahan ko muna ang mga luha ko at ang patulo ko ng sipon. Baka mapatakan pa ang keyboard ng computer at ang hawak kong picture. Picture ng isang paslit na may hawak na bote ng beer habang kandong ng tatay na kitang-kita ang kasiyahan sa mukha.