life and death

Beautiful wisdom from a Nike ad many years ago:

You were born a daughter.
You looked up to your mother.
You looked up to your father.
You looked up at everyone.
You wanted to be a princess.
You thought you were a princess.
You wanted to own a horse.
You wanted to be a horse.
You wanted your brother to be a horse.
You wanted to wear pink.
You never wanted to wear pink.
You wanted to be a Veterinarian.
You wanted to be President.
You wanted to be the President’s Veterinarian.
You were picked last for the team.
You were the best one on the team.
You refused to be on the team.
You wanted to be good in algebra.
You hid during algebra.
You wanted the boys to notice you.
You were afraid the boys would notice you.

You started to get acne.
You started to get breasts.
You started to get acne that was bigger than your breasts.
You wouldn’t wear a bra.
You couldn’t wait to wear a bra.
You couldn’t fit into a bra.
You didn’t like the way you looked.
You didn’t like the way your parents looked.
You didn’t want to grow up.
You had your first best friend.
You had your first date.
You had your second best friend.
You had your second first date.
You spent hours on the telephone.
You got kissed.
You got to kiss back.
You went to the prom.
You didn’t go to the prom.
You went to the prom with the wrong person.
You spent hours on the telephone.
You fell in love.
You fell in love.
You fell in love.
You lost your best friend.
You lost your other best friend.
You really fell in love.
You became a steady girlfriend.
You became a significant other.

YOU BECAME SIGNIFICANT TO YOURSELF.

Sooner or later, you start taking yourself seriously. You know when you need a break. You know when you need a rest. You know what to get worked up about and what to get rid of. And you know when it’s time to take care of yourself, for yourself. To do something that makes you stronger, faster, more complete. Because you know it’s never too late to have a life. And never too late to change one.
JUST DO IT.

(the eulogy I sobbed through for her memorial service)

I’ve only known Elvie since 2008. And, I have to confess, I only got to talk and know her this year—when all her hair was gone. The church was starting with cell groups and we thought that it would be a lot easier for Elvie if we just had one of the Bible studies at her house, that way her family could join in too.  I didn’t know that Elvie had been praying for a Bible study at their house for a while now, so when I mentioned it to her, she was really excited.

So it’s most likely that you guys know her more, have more stories and adventures with her than I do. It’s likely that nothing I say will be new to you.

So why am I here? I don’t know! I’m just grateful for the opportunity to honor my friend among people who, like me, loved her and witnessed the miracle that is her life—even for a just a little while.

We all know how Elvie was strong and joyful still in the face of having her cancer, but I got to see first hand just how deep it really went at one of our Bible studies when I asked about what we are grateful to God for in our lives. And she replied, “I’m grateful for my cancer.”

And I said, “Really?” more out of surprise. And later on, I would ask if she had any regrets and she said she had none. She took something that one would normally see as a cause to question God’s goodness and plan for her life as an opportunity to know her Father even more intimately. She said she experienced firsthand how it was to truly depend on Him for everything—her health, her strength, for provisions. And for her, she always had enough.

She looked at her cancer—something that is so scary and painful and crippling—and considered it not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed to us– to her. It was a good exchange for her for a chance to live out her faith, to get to know God beyond what she would, in normal health, have.

And while her relationship with God was something that was so personal and intimate, we—and anybody who got to know her, even for just a little while—bore witness to their wonderful relationship and was blessed by it.

One time, when Elvie needed blood donors, one of my friends volunteered to donate, but he got rejected because he just had surgery that year. So, he just went up to her room in Makati Med to pray for her. He texted me later that it was such a blessing to meet someone who was still so joyful in the Lord in the midst of her sickness. He found it funny because he came up to bless her, and instead he came away blessed. Elvie texted me later to thank me for sending my friend up to pray for her and that he’s cute.

I was reading through her text messages in my phone…  “Ok, blood test ko kanina, platelet 112,000 kasi uminom ako ng katas ng fresh papaya leaves, hemoglobin 9 kasi nagpa-inject ako ng mahal na gamot worth P13,500,  white blood cells 2.38…Sobrang manas na ako, hirap maglakad, left hand ko maga din… But I thank God that He continues to sustain me and gives me strength. He is so good! He is in control!”

Parang Psalms no? At first it’s like a lament, but in the end there’s rejoicing because of God’s goodness despite all that is happening.

I wrote about her in my blog last September, I even got her to read it (I had to zoom the page really close because her eyesight’s bad already). I quoted a line from a book I was reading at a time and I remembered her, “Not all powers are spectacular. Sometimes the hardest power to master is the power of yielding.”(Hestia, The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan)

By yielding to the fact that she could succumb to her sickness at any time, Elvie had her priorities straight. Each day counted. She keept on going so that God’s power and glory could all the more be shown in what was left of her days, and to see the people she had shared the Gospel to grow closer to our Savior. I guess that’s why she fought to stay around longer than her doctors expected her to. That’s why even while she had just checked out of the hospital earlier that day, and already had a hard time walking, and it was raining really hard (so hard, that it kept most of the people from going to the fellowship) on October 1, she still went to church to share her story at the SAM Octoberfeast.

She made every day count.

And I’m not saying that Elvie put on a brave face all the time. She never made it a secret that she was afraid of the pain her cancer would bring, but she had surrendered her sickness to God. She was ready to go whenever God called her home. Her only prayer was to be able to keep on serving until the end. She was no longer afraid of death because it was already welcome any time.  Even then, she was already free from the fear of death. What a glorious victory!

I’m not asking to get cancer like Elvie—but God, how I want what she had with You! But the Stef version (heh). The peace, the joy in adversity, the steadiness against overwhelming odds, and the strength—oh the strength!—until the end.

Praise You, o Lord, for Elvie’s life. That was really something beautiful. Praise you.

A year ago…

Praying for justice in this life and in the next (although I know that justice will meet them sooner or later), but Lord, please may it prevail here and soon for everyone to see.

For the LORD loves justice, And does not forsake His saints; They are preserved forever, But the descendants of the wicked shall be cut off. (Psalm 37:28)

“Not all powers are spectacular. Sometimes the hardest power to master is the power of yielding.”
(Hestia, The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan)

Control. Over emotions, circumstances, crises, people– most of us have this automatic response to try to be on top of them. I know I do. But we can’t always be in control of everything.

Duh. Of course you know that already. I know that too. Every time I mess up or witness something or someone fall apart within an arm’s reach, but unable to do anything about it, I am reminded keenly that there are just too many things that are beyond my help or control. But, oh, God help me, I still try. I fight until I get to the end of my strength and even my sanity. Yielding is the final option, but I hardly even think that far.

Which brings me to Elvie. People  who follow my facebook and twitter statuses would probably have heard about her because I got to donate blood to her recently and have been looking for more donors. I met her in 2008, but I got to know her better just this year, when I got to work with her in the Single Adults Ministry (SAM) at church, and recently, when we started a Bible Study at her house.

Elvie is dying of cancer. Invasive ductal carcinoma, histologic grade 3.  She’s at stage 4 already and the cancer has spread to the spine, bone marrow and liver since it was detected in 2005.In the past few weeks, she’s been in and out of the hospital. She stopped her chemo routine because it wasn’t working anymore, and now she’s trying a new one.  There is a tube plugged through her stomach to drain it of fluids regularly. She has lost all her hair. She is so thin now that I’m scared I might break her whenever I give her a hug.

She is only in her 40s, still too young to die. Sometimes, I don’t even want to acknowledge it because, really, what can you say? Last Friday, she texted me, telling the facts of her situation flat out– “Alam mo, sis, pwedeng matigok ako anytime…” Her hemoglobin and platelet count is dangerously low that if it gets even a little lower, she could die if she doesn’t make it to the hospital in time and immediately get and injection and a blood transfusion of blood type A+.

But you know, she’s one of the most optimistic, joyful and positive people I hang out with right now. She still shows up at church and the SAM activities when she can. She still goes to the office! She even told me that, even as she is scared of the pain, she’s grateful for her cancer, because if she hadn’t gotten sick, she wouldn’t have experienced this full-on dependence in God, and seen just how much He could take care of her. It may sound cliche and trite, or even crazy, but coming from her, her gratitude is so real that it’s sometimes baffling.

That’s Godspotting for you.

By yielding to the fact that she could succumb to her sickness at any time, Elvie has her priorities straight. Each day counts. She keeps on going so that God’s power and glory can all the more be shown in what’s left of her days, and to see the people she has shared the Gospel to grow closer to our Savior. But she has surrendered her sickness to God. She is ready to go whenever God calls her home. Her only prayer is to be able to keep on serving until the end. She is no longer afraid of death because it is already welcome any time.  She is free.

See her victory?

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
(Exodus 14:14)

An asteroid supposedly passed between the moon and the Earth today, according to this article on CBS news who sourced it from another article in Yahoo! news. It stated:

The asteroid, called 2010 GA6, is a relatively small space rock about 71 feet (22 meters) wide and was discovered by astronomers with the Catalina Sky Survey in Tucson, Az. The space rock will fly within the orbit of the moon when it passes Earth Thursday at 7:06 p.m. EDT (2306 GMT), but NASA astronomers said not to worry…the planet is safe.

Apparently, these kinds of “fly-bys” happen more often than we think, in fact, the last one was just last January.

Vanity Fair called it “pure luck” that the world didn’t end today.

This makes sense as, actually, scientists estimate that the Earth most likely won’t be destroyed until at least 2014, when an asteroid that “could have the effect of 20 million Hiroshima atomic bombs” will approach (and, you know, maybe hit!) the planet.

With all the earthquakes and wars and civil unrest all over the world, plus the weather going haywire and the Global Warming, of course we have to ask, “Is this it? Is the end really coming?”

What if it is? How are you going to live your life knowing the end is near?

If the world stopped spinning
If the end was beginning
Would you even notice if i wasn’t there?
If the world stopped spinning around

(Plumb, Candycoated Waterdrops)

I was reading this yesterday from A Slice of Infinity and thought that this would be a good share for today.

Where was God in all this darkness and blood and suffering? He was right there… even in the darkest of events in history, He brings us out to the other side, to be a testimony of the power of forgiveness over retribution.

Dead People Walking

In war-torn relationships of Northern Uganda, forgiveness is complicated.  Betty was a teenager when her village was raided by the Lord’s Resistance Army, a rebel army known for its brutal tactics and widespread human rights violations.  She was kidnapped as a sex slave for a commander and ordered to commit callous acts of violence as a child soldier, until gradually she was broken and became an active member of the LRA.

After six years of bloodshed, however, Betty managed to escape, running across the country to freedom.  But coming home would not be a simple matter of returning.  She had committed violence against the very people she hoped to rejoin.  Her own guilt and shame was as palpable as the mistrust and anger of her village.  In her absence, two of her own brothers had been killed by the same army Betty fought alongside.

In the midst of such loss, with so many permanent scars, forgiveness might seem hopeful, but perhaps naïve at best.  Is reconciliation even to be desired when brokenness is irreversible?  Does forgiveness cease to be hopeful when neither party can ever be the same again?

The people of Uganda believe it is.  For hundreds and hundreds of children like Betty, terrorized by crimes they were forced to commit and returning home to terrorized villages, tribal elders have adapted a ceremony to make it possible for both.  In a ceremony that includes the act of breaking and stepping on an egg and an opobo branch, the returnee is cleansed from the things he or she has done while away.  The egg symbolizes innocent life, and by breaking and placing themselves in its broken substance, returnees declare before their village their desire to be restored to the way they used to be.  In a final step over a pole, the returnees step into new life.  In many cases, women returnees come home with babies who were born in the bush, usually a result of rape.  When they arrive at the broken egg, the child’s foot is placed in the substance, too.  The spirit of reconciliation, like warfare, must touch everyone.

In a single weekend, Christians have just remembered the crucifixion of Jesus, his burial on Good Friday, the silence of Holy Saturday, and the terror and amazement of Easter Sunday.  In a weekend, we were reminded how the disciples failed him miserably, falling asleep when he needed them most in prayer, denying ever knowing him as he was convicted for being himself, watching him die alone from a distance.  In a weekend, Christians moved from recognizing ourselves in this list of failures to sensing the hopeful confusion of the disciples, the overwhelm of Thomas, and the timid longing of the women at the tomb.  In a single weekend, we moved from complete despair to shocking hope, total darkness to surprising light, the finality of death to the last word of resurrection, from broken and sinful to restored and forgiven.

In this solitary weekend, Christians remember a story that should make the bold and touching forgiveness of war-torn Ugandans seem natural, expected, and necessary, however shocking or complicated or slow-coming it might be.  After the egg-breaking ceremony, Betty went from rebel to ex-rebel, shamed to restored.  “I feel cleansed,” she said of the ceremony.  After a day of being welcomed and celebrated, she adds, “Some of the bad things in my heart: they are gone.”(1)  Alex Boraine, deputy chair of South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, notes of such radical forgiveness: “[With its] uncomfortable commitment to bringing the perpetrator back into the family, Africa has something to say to the world.”(2)

Indeed, so does Christ Jesus.  In one eventful weekend, we remember the ugly depths of our sin and stare into the deep scars of the servant who bore it away.  This utter shift in our condition is as overwhelming as Good Friday, as dumbfounding as Holy Saturday, and as inconceivable as Easter Sunday.  But it is our ceremony.  Christ is broken, we are covered in his blood, and we emerge as dead men and women walking.  How beyond our knowing, that in the Father’s inexplicable mercy and loving-kindness, to redeem a slave, He gave a Son.  Yet because God did, in a weekend, we can claim again the mystery; we can claim the power of reconciliation; we can claim Christ, who moves us from perpetrator to family.
Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.

(1) Abe McLaughlin, “Africa After War: Paths To Forgiveness—Ugandans Welcome ‘Terrorists’ Back” International Center for Transitional Justice, October 23, 2006.
(2) Ibid.

i never thought that it would end. seriously. i thought that this was it. the one. the settlement of stef and the beginning of a whole new adventure. i thought that we would be able to fight through anything, but then, in reality, we can only love so much. forgive so much. it just hurt to find out that what we had wasn’t as much as we thought it would be.

while we were together, i knew that that was where we were meant to be at that time. and when it ended, i knew that it was time to go. but still, oh, how i fought it before i caved in.

it ended– like how it usually ends. a lot of tears, promises of “for now” that i’m not going to hold him to, a prayer, a hug and a last squeeze of the hand. then it would be a few days of awkward conversations before finally ellipsis-ing off to silence, private tears and lots of explanations to people’s questions of what happened? are you sure? maybe someday… again?

it doesn’t get any easier, no matter how many times I’ve been through this. we promise the infinite and we always come up short.

but when it was over, the morning after, i woke up with a strange feeling. lighter, maybe because i lost something big that i had been holding on to for over a year and half. i poked my heart to see if it’s still ok, because for some reason it’s not feeling that familiar needle pricking pain after a breakup. i looked at my schedule for that saturday. until the day before, i was going to move out of my apartment and in with some friends in palanan, makati; and i was going to wear my white suit for the first time to our friends’ wedding in tagaytay. just like that, my day was a clean slate, among other things and i was back in limbo. i’m no longer his, and he’s not mine. then i just let myself cry again.

i made decisions that day that helped me function normally even up to now. no running. let go of burgeoning bitterness. let go of him. forgive even when not asked. stay in church. do the job that’s in front of me. stay at home. no awkwardness. be kind. accept kindness when given. pray. praise. give thanks. lean on the Rock that has never failed me ever before.

i hadn’t plan on being strong or brave or funny. or to appear like something tragic didn’t happen. but somehow these things happened too.

it wasn’t until five days later when the word “broken” was mentioned. and i poked my heart again, examined it to see if it was as broken as it should be. but it wasn’t. it was whole– it hasn’t been like this for so long that I didn’t recognize it. i’ve never lost touch with God even before the breakup, but upon realizing that i was whole, i just wanted to fall on my knees at the sidewalk of Ayala Ave. and declare that it was Him the whole time, taking care of me, holding me together even without me asking.

all i wanted was to fall apart but He held me up.

i am cradled and surrounded by so much love that you wouldn’t know that i have just come out of a breakup. and i swear that i have nothing to do with it except to accept the grace that’s being showered on me.

once again, i am made to live my life verse:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. (2 Cor. 12:9)

i love it that even my colleagues find my composure astonishing. my friend even told me, “you make me want to consider getting religion.” and i said it’s not me.

don’t get me wrong. it’s still not easy. i often wish it hadn’t ended, but who am i to complain when i know that the God of the universe is holding me up? i still cry like someone i loved died– because, in a sense, that dream we had died with this.

but once again, i am assured that if i thought that this dream was already great, how much more is the future that God actually has for me (and for him)?

there’s really no escaping Him. He hems me in– behind and before. my wonderful Father, my Savior, my Comforter and Friend. Your works are wonderful, I know it full well.

The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me;
your love, O LORD, endures forever—
do not abandon the works of your hands.

(Psalm 138:8)

“I don’t want to go and see things that will make me change,” I heard one lady say in a video at the International Care Ministries dinner this evening. I think she speaks for most of us today.

As images of poverty and sickness flashed in half dozen projector screens in the Rizal ballroom of Makati Shangri-la, the irony was not lost to the audience, who were dressed to the nines, eating an expensive dinner. But, as Marietta Santos, the grand lady who had invited us there, said, “I brought you here so you would be aware of what’s happening, and to get you to help.”

photo by Jorem/Sheila Catilo for Moms for Moms

“I don’t like seeing these kinds of things,” I heard the lady mutter from across the table from me. I watched her as she just kept her eyes on the table while the rest of her friends murmured and gasped at how most of our fellow Filipinos live.

Even my stomach couldn’t help feel queasy at the site of the squalor people actually live in.

photo by Espen Rasmussen / Panos for MSF

I get overwhelmed whenever I see images like these. There are just so many people in need! How can I– or anyone– help them? Even with all the organizations, volunteers, donations, there doesn’t seem to be an end to the poverty. There will always be people who are sick, hungry, poor, with hands outstretched for help, any help they could get.

I work in a magazine that features luxury, high society, exclusivity and high-end goodies that only a few can afford. Most of the time, I find myself surrounded by these few people, with their shoes that I can afford if I don’t eat for a month, and bags that cost a year’s salary of a managing editor. It’s part of the job. At the other end of the spectrum, but still my job, I see the ugly, the poor and the broken in society. And I meet people who are helping, and looking for more people to help, other people.

I often make this half-meant joke, “Lord, can you give me enough money to give away?” But so far, still not much money is left to give away after the bills. I’m thinking that maybe God wants me to help in some other way.

Because why else would He make me see these things?

from my_sarisari_store.typepad.com

“What does God think about poverty and injustice?” I remember that question raised by a speaker in Station One last year. With so much in the world that is going wrong, God must want to make it right! But how? What is the church doing about it?

I believe that truth does not become really true to us unless it affects the way we live. Truth moves people– often out of our comfort zones and into a place that is smelly, ugly, and in need. So we see these people in need and we feel pity for them. But that’s not enough. That’s not true enough. We have to move. We have to do something.

But what can I do? I don’t have anything, I don’t have much money to give, I’m so busy with work and other things that  barely have enough to sleep as is…

Then God asks, “What’s that in your hand?”

——

p.s. I’m compiling a list of charities for people to donate to this Christmas. If you have a recommendation, just leave a comment below, preferrably with contact details, or even just a website. Thanks!

“I am choosing.”

I always tell myself that, especially these days. Feeling trapped is really a bad way to go. There is always a choice, and if you’re fortunate enough, it’s between two good choices. I’ve been learning, since I was a teenager, that choices lead to future choices, and it’s always better to look at least two choices ahead because I wouldn’t want to be led somewhere where I would have to eventually have to choose between two paths I don’t like.

These days I am choosing to always protect, always trust, always hope, always persevere.

I am choosing to stay.

Today I watched an end of an era… on TV.

Today I wore my boots and a long sleeved blouse and jeans into a rainy day.

Today I loved a cute little doggie too much and scared him.

Today I got a sculpture of a full-bodied woman.

Today I pushed my body to its painful limits.

Today I remembered that my mom, at my age now, was already taking care of two daughters, while I’m living in the city taking care of myself.

Today I walked with the wind on my back and my hair on my ice cream cone.

Today I, with my sisters in faith, celebrated being a woman, wondered at stories and the Author of it all.

Today, I give thanks for this life. For this time in history.

Today, just like on any other day, I wonder if I’m meant to do big things, and if so– what are they and how am I going to do them?

Today, I will do the small things that I have to do and give thanks.

Teach us to number our days aright,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Psalm 90:12