I can't believe it's almost the end of the year! It seems only last week when I was driven up the wall, packing all my stuff to go home to good old Manila, saying hasty goodbyes to everyone in Lah-Lah Land, and excitedly anticipating my first Christmas back home...and when I checked the calendar, it's been almost a year since then. 11 months, 3 weeks and 4 days ago, to be precise.
And so life goes on.
I am currently in the middle of yet another major change. Now that I think of it, some of the biggest changes in my life came around October/November. It was around that time 11 years ago that my ex-boyfriend and I decided to become a couple (and now I'm married to the guy!). This time last year saw me moving homes between two countries. And now I am in the midst of moving on to another job.
Well, not exactly moving on. Sort of a homecoming, I should say. I finally accepted an offer from the TV station I used to work with to rejoin them. Not as a talent anymore (not that I would mind), but as a regular employee that would allow me to work within the sphere I had been so used to for more than 10 years, yet be able to keep more reasonable hours (or so I hope). Coming home to Manila to go back to what I've loved doing all this time...I have no other way to call it but poetic justice.
But no matter how sweet the offer was, I was in a quandary for some time, thinking of ways of how to break it to my current employer. After all, there was no love lost between us when I decided to move countries. In fact, they have given me the most unheard-of and the most considerate employee arrangement I've ever found myself in: I was given the chance to keep my job abroad while working at home in Manila. I'd like to think I've done something right in all that time I was employed with them, because no ordinary person would deserve that. And no ordinary boss will just shell out that privilege for that matter.
And so now you understand why my resignation letter was just a blank white page for almost a week after signing the offer sheet from New Employer. I felt like a traitor.
But...
...my Divine Writer reminded me that following His plans does not make one a sell-out. One fine morning, I opened my office email and I found just the solution I was waiting for. My boss emailed me saying he needed to cancel my work permit as he had exceeded his quota for foreign workers. Of course, not being based there made me the best candidate because I didn't really need a permit to work/stay there anymore. Note that while he was saying he needed to cancel my work pass, he was still considerate enough to ask me what the implications would be on my end.
After reading the message, I felt it was the cue I was waiting for. If that wasn't Divine Intervention, I don't know what else is. And so I emailed him my resignation letter. (Fine, I know it isn't exactly within the boundaries of etiquette that one emails the boss her resignation letter...but, hey, this is an unconventional set-up and I place myself as an exception)
If you're curious about the contents of my letter, suffice it to say that I decided to come clean. I felt honesty was the way to go. So I told them I was given an offer to go back to my industry of choice, with a very good position, to boot. And that a work-at-home set-up was not as ideal as I thought it would be. Boss graciously accepted the letter and simply told me that "the possibility to pursue one's desire or aspiration is truly immeasurable." Awww :')
So that's Blessing Number 1. Going back to the old without burning any bridges. It feels great.
And as if that wasn't enough, we were given yet another surprise. Hubby got some unexpected recognition from his bosses for all his hard work. Without really going into the details (he hates it that I post so much about our lives online...), the recognition cemented, more than anything, that this is really where we're supposed to be.
And the biggest blessing of all...
(No, I'm not [yet] pregnant. I leave the timing to my Divine Writer.)
Hubby and I took a leap of faith and invested in our family's future. We bought a piece of property that we thought is a good buy. At first, we were having second thoughts because we felt we might not have enough resources to finance that. But, you know what, the Big Guy Up There wasn't quite finished with us. He proved yet again that when you follow His plans, He will provide. And provide the resources He did. And so we found ourselves signing contracts and issuing cheques like there's no tomorrow.
All these changes are a happy-kind-of-scary feeling. All the decisions we took in the past few months and weeks feel so grown-up.
However, we remain child-like in one matter: our faith. We believe we are on the right path, and when we stay positive, we witness that the universe conspires to listen to the quiet whispers of our hearts :)
Showing posts with label true stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label true stories. Show all posts
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Thursday, May 6, 2010
New Realities
- Our childhood superheroes and idols are all flawed. Next time you read up on mythology, Shakespearean classics or Marvel comics, pay close attention.
- We all get second chances in life. It just doesn't always turn out the way we expect them to be.
- We need to be very, very specific with our prayers.
- Sometimes we look for love in the wrong places.
- At times, it is easier to deal with pain and rejection than love and acceptance.
- History can be rewritten in one day.
- Silence is a good breeding ground for voices in your head.
- We sometimes mistake courage for self-preservation and masked fear. It is revealed at the threshold of a revelation and how one deals with it.
- Being smart has its downsides.
- Knowledge and acceptance are at opposite ends of the spectrum. But one has to find the right reflection in order to see the rainbow.
Monday, February 22, 2010
A Father's Love
I was bloghopping today when I came across this site.
It's amazing how the blog owner is able to come up with the content for the site. All entries contain original scanned correspondences, from obscure Joes to the more familiar names such as Harvey Milk and J.D. Salinger, and references to the likes of President Roosevelt and Nikola Tesla.
What caught my attention was a wonderful and touching letter from an unknown soldier. I am posting the full transcription below, but if you wish to see the original handwritten letter, then please follow this link.
Wednesday
Oct 21, 1942
My Dear Little Girl,
Last night was a beautiful moonlit night. Every star that studded the sky was sparkling like a jewel. The air was crisp, but faintly perfumed, with all the fragrances only a lovely spring night can devise. Today it is raining hard, the wind is fierce and cold. Yes! It is miserable, something you want to pass by quickly, so that the night will again be beautiful.
Life too, Anne, is like the weather. Some days are so lovely, the happenings of those days so enchanting, you never can forget them. Some are so unhappy, you wish they never happened but, alas, they must for your life, your Mother’s, mine, everyone’s is so mixed up with joy and sadness that you never have one or the other for long. One replaces the other with a speed that is amazing.
Thus it happened just two years ago. Your Mother knew and I knew that you were going to be born. Those days were anxious ones, Anne. As the days went by your Mother used to smile at me with those lovely brown eyes. Eyes that shone with courage and resolve. If she had anxiety in her mind she never showed it but it must have been there. In my heart and mind torments raged that no one will ever know. But through all the doubts all the worries and all the long, anxious hours an end came, bringing with it, you.
From that hour, it was early in the morning, the lives of two people were filled with inexplicable happiness. When I called to see your Mother that day I shall never forget the beauty, the happiness that shone up at me from her precious little face. Neither will I forget the pride and the joy that surged right through me when the nurse brought you along and I held you in my arms.
Soon we took you home. The months sped by, and you gradually took a hold in our hearts. You laughed so much at such silly things we did to claim your attention. We showed you off to so many people. Your eyes, so big and questioning never failed to win admiration. Your curly hair was indeed a special joy.
And as each month sped by you grew. First you sat up, then stood up, then crawled, then walked. As each stage passed funny little incidents occurred. Perhaps no one ever noticed them or remembered them. But your Mother and I did. Every night, when I came home from work, there were stories of your conduct through the day to be told. Some days you were good and others you were naughty. Like, for instance, the day when a little mischievous spirit seized onto you and strips of wall paper came from the wall, Other thoughts came crowding into my mind, memories of days gone by when we laughed at you, scolded you, and, some serious times when we worried over you.
The first year of your life passed away, quickly perhaps, but you grew so quickly every day was an adventure not only for yourself but for us. You had a party for your first birthday, and although you sat up like Jacky you probably will never remember it. But that day you got “Goog’ga” for a present. Poor “Goog-ga”. As each week passed he got dirtier and more worn. And the dirtier he got the more you loved him. Then at Xmas,”Teddy” came along. Dear old Teddy. So plump and with such a frizzy coat. In a few months he was still plump but his hair was not so frizzy. Then, you’d never go to sleep unless Teddy and “Goog-ga” were tucked in with you. You’ll never know how angelic, how like a cherub you looked, when after your bath you were popped into bed with your little playmates. Indeed God is good. How many times have your Mother and I crept in to see you sleeping. And how many times have I wiped away tears, gentle little tears of happiness from her eyes when we came out.
All those days were so beautiful, like the night I sat and watched yesterday evening. But soon came the rain. Your lovely country, so free and so proud, was fighting for its life. Those indeed were dark days. I had to leave Mother and you and become a soldier. Thousands of other Daddies went too, because we had to fight so that all the Mothers and little boys and girls could live happily. That was many months ago. I do not know how long it will be before we will be home again together. But rain my little darling does not last for ever.
Through the blackest clouds a little piece of blue appears. The wind blows, and soon the clouds go. So too will peace come and then we can be all happy again.
Because I’m a soldier now Anne I cannot attend your birthday this year. You are going to have a party and I wont be there. But while that party is on I’ll be thinking of you and your Mother. Thinking of the day you came along, and of the days that have gone by since. You are lovely now, like your Mother. Some day, when you grow up, some man is going to be lost in your loveliness, like I was when I fell in love with your Mother. But no matter. We cannot have you forever. While we do we’ll teach you all the lovely things of life, and there are so many beautiful things in life. There are, too, bad things and, these also we will tell you about so that you’ll know how to pass them by.
Maybe it will be years before you will be able to read this letter but when you can you’ll know at least how much we love you and how much you mean to us.
I am looking forward to seeing you soon and to seeing those big brown eyes of yours laugh back at me. Until then my little girl.
Goodbye and God bless you on your birthday.
From your adoring
“Dad-da”
I should've known from the blog lead-in that it was a mistake to read it from my workstation. It is touching to me on so many levels.
For one, I am a parent and I could only sympathise with the pain and anxiety that a separation like that can bring. It must be heart-wrenching to leave behind your loved ones, not knowing whether you'll be coming back. As for the wife, I cannot imagine her agony. Look at me, hubby just goes on business trips and I get all pissy, worried and anxious all in one go. Although I must say it's a poor comparison; I really feel like a petty idiot now.
On another front, I see myself in the little girl. To those of you who do not know my background, my father had been a soldier for most of his life, having been a veteran of World War II and the Korean War. By the time I was born, he no longer went off to fight in wars, but I imagine he could have written me notes like that had I been born during those times. I knew my father to be an eloquent man so letters like that must come easy to him.
I'll never know whether the letter's author ever came home. And in much the same way, I would never know whether my father had it in him to express his love for me like that. Perhaps I should ask his children if they ever got letters like that. I certainly never did.
On second thought, maybe not. Some things are better left unknown.
It's amazing how the blog owner is able to come up with the content for the site. All entries contain original scanned correspondences, from obscure Joes to the more familiar names such as Harvey Milk and J.D. Salinger, and references to the likes of President Roosevelt and Nikola Tesla.
What caught my attention was a wonderful and touching letter from an unknown soldier. I am posting the full transcription below, but if you wish to see the original handwritten letter, then please follow this link.
Wednesday
Oct 21, 1942
My Dear Little Girl,
Last night was a beautiful moonlit night. Every star that studded the sky was sparkling like a jewel. The air was crisp, but faintly perfumed, with all the fragrances only a lovely spring night can devise. Today it is raining hard, the wind is fierce and cold. Yes! It is miserable, something you want to pass by quickly, so that the night will again be beautiful.
Life too, Anne, is like the weather. Some days are so lovely, the happenings of those days so enchanting, you never can forget them. Some are so unhappy, you wish they never happened but, alas, they must for your life, your Mother’s, mine, everyone’s is so mixed up with joy and sadness that you never have one or the other for long. One replaces the other with a speed that is amazing.
Thus it happened just two years ago. Your Mother knew and I knew that you were going to be born. Those days were anxious ones, Anne. As the days went by your Mother used to smile at me with those lovely brown eyes. Eyes that shone with courage and resolve. If she had anxiety in her mind she never showed it but it must have been there. In my heart and mind torments raged that no one will ever know. But through all the doubts all the worries and all the long, anxious hours an end came, bringing with it, you.
From that hour, it was early in the morning, the lives of two people were filled with inexplicable happiness. When I called to see your Mother that day I shall never forget the beauty, the happiness that shone up at me from her precious little face. Neither will I forget the pride and the joy that surged right through me when the nurse brought you along and I held you in my arms.
Soon we took you home. The months sped by, and you gradually took a hold in our hearts. You laughed so much at such silly things we did to claim your attention. We showed you off to so many people. Your eyes, so big and questioning never failed to win admiration. Your curly hair was indeed a special joy.
And as each month sped by you grew. First you sat up, then stood up, then crawled, then walked. As each stage passed funny little incidents occurred. Perhaps no one ever noticed them or remembered them. But your Mother and I did. Every night, when I came home from work, there were stories of your conduct through the day to be told. Some days you were good and others you were naughty. Like, for instance, the day when a little mischievous spirit seized onto you and strips of wall paper came from the wall, Other thoughts came crowding into my mind, memories of days gone by when we laughed at you, scolded you, and, some serious times when we worried over you.
The first year of your life passed away, quickly perhaps, but you grew so quickly every day was an adventure not only for yourself but for us. You had a party for your first birthday, and although you sat up like Jacky you probably will never remember it. But that day you got “Goog’ga” for a present. Poor “Goog-ga”. As each week passed he got dirtier and more worn. And the dirtier he got the more you loved him. Then at Xmas,”Teddy” came along. Dear old Teddy. So plump and with such a frizzy coat. In a few months he was still plump but his hair was not so frizzy. Then, you’d never go to sleep unless Teddy and “Goog-ga” were tucked in with you. You’ll never know how angelic, how like a cherub you looked, when after your bath you were popped into bed with your little playmates. Indeed God is good. How many times have your Mother and I crept in to see you sleeping. And how many times have I wiped away tears, gentle little tears of happiness from her eyes when we came out.
All those days were so beautiful, like the night I sat and watched yesterday evening. But soon came the rain. Your lovely country, so free and so proud, was fighting for its life. Those indeed were dark days. I had to leave Mother and you and become a soldier. Thousands of other Daddies went too, because we had to fight so that all the Mothers and little boys and girls could live happily. That was many months ago. I do not know how long it will be before we will be home again together. But rain my little darling does not last for ever.
Through the blackest clouds a little piece of blue appears. The wind blows, and soon the clouds go. So too will peace come and then we can be all happy again.
Because I’m a soldier now Anne I cannot attend your birthday this year. You are going to have a party and I wont be there. But while that party is on I’ll be thinking of you and your Mother. Thinking of the day you came along, and of the days that have gone by since. You are lovely now, like your Mother. Some day, when you grow up, some man is going to be lost in your loveliness, like I was when I fell in love with your Mother. But no matter. We cannot have you forever. While we do we’ll teach you all the lovely things of life, and there are so many beautiful things in life. There are, too, bad things and, these also we will tell you about so that you’ll know how to pass them by.
Maybe it will be years before you will be able to read this letter but when you can you’ll know at least how much we love you and how much you mean to us.
I am looking forward to seeing you soon and to seeing those big brown eyes of yours laugh back at me. Until then my little girl.
Goodbye and God bless you on your birthday.
From your adoring
“Dad-da”
I should've known from the blog lead-in that it was a mistake to read it from my workstation. It is touching to me on so many levels.
For one, I am a parent and I could only sympathise with the pain and anxiety that a separation like that can bring. It must be heart-wrenching to leave behind your loved ones, not knowing whether you'll be coming back. As for the wife, I cannot imagine her agony. Look at me, hubby just goes on business trips and I get all pissy, worried and anxious all in one go. Although I must say it's a poor comparison; I really feel like a petty idiot now.
On another front, I see myself in the little girl. To those of you who do not know my background, my father had been a soldier for most of his life, having been a veteran of World War II and the Korean War. By the time I was born, he no longer went off to fight in wars, but I imagine he could have written me notes like that had I been born during those times. I knew my father to be an eloquent man so letters like that must come easy to him.
I'll never know whether the letter's author ever came home. And in much the same way, I would never know whether my father had it in him to express his love for me like that. Perhaps I should ask his children if they ever got letters like that. I certainly never did.
On second thought, maybe not. Some things are better left unknown.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
A True Story
I'm a big fan of karaoke. And if you're like me, I'm guessing that you have a "trademark" song. You know, that one song you instinctively look for and warble even before your first bucket of beer arrives? Yeah, that's the one.
For some strange reason, my trademark song is "I've Never Been to Me" by Charlene. It's an old 80s song. It is the sad story of a woman of pleasure telling her tale to a downtrodden housewife...a jaded soul rolling in wealth and "fabulosity", yet longs for her one true love. It's a poignant story of loneliness amidst wordly pleasures and wealth.
"Hey lady, you lady
Cursing at your life
You're a discontented mother
And a regimented wife.
I've no doubt you dream about
The things you never do,
But I wish someone had talked to me
Like I wanna talk to you...
Oh, I've been to Nice
And the Isle of Greece
While I sipped champagned on a yacht.
I moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo
And showed them what I've got.
I've been undressed by kings
And I've seen some things
That a woman ain't s'posed to see.
I've been to paradise,
But I've never been to me."
No, it is not my story. But it reminds me of someone I know. Let's call her Margaux. And, yes, I changed her name to protect her identity.
Margaux was my childhood friend. Nothing really special about our friendship -- we sat next to each other in grade school, traded secrets, let her copy off my homework because she was too lazy to do hers. At an early age, she got into relationships, attended parties of all the popular kids, led the campus dance troupe and generally did all those "cool" and "hip" things that popular students in school get into. We sure had a strange way of defining "cool" and "hip" back then. But she was nice.
After our elementary years, Margaux transferred to another school. An institution known equally for women of substance and women who...well, women. Apparently, she did not fit into the first category. Because of proximity, and maybe because of the disparity of our interests and circles of friends, we drifted apart and lost touch. No big disaster for me, though, and I'm guessing she felt the same.
Fast forward to more than a decade hence. I was surprised to find a note in my inbox from her. A pleasant surprise, indeed. I eagerly replied and said hello, all the while praising cyberspace for opportunities such as this.
It was only a few hours later when I received her reply. The contents of her message surprised me. Not because I'm not used to hearing such stories, but because it's not really something you share with someone you haven't spoken to for the last 10 years or so. The words came pouring out of her like water from a broken dam during a storm. Niagara Falls, baby.
Margaux shared that she has several kids now. When she was still with Husband #1, she worked abroad and sent all her earnings to him. Margaux broke up with him after she went home to an empty bank account. Turns out he spent everything she earned on frivolous things. Jerk.
I was also surprised to find out that she worked for almost a year in this Asian country where money comes easy. There was a quick disclaimer that she "did nothing of that sort", but that she "earned easy money". I did not prod her any further, but of course, my imaginative mind tends to run away. Not that I want to think the worst about her, but it seems to be a logical conclusion.
She now has a second husband and has other kids with him. But they now live on a day-to-day existence because of mismanaged wealth. They lost all their properties and business due to excessive spending, drugs and gambling. According to Margaux, they now live off the money given to them by charitable family members, which isn't much.
It saddened me because I've always known Margaux to be a happy-go-lucky person. While not ridiculously wealthy, her family (birth parents) was well-off and she lived a comfortable life. She had a lot of opportunites, but she let them all get away from her because of her circumstances. And now, while putting up a brave front, she is living a life of regret and bitterness.
She hardly talked about her husband. She only mentioned him twice: once, to say that he drank everyday, and the second time, to say that he lost everything to drugs and gambling. But he is, after all, still her husband, and they are together "for richer and for poorer".
The good thing about her is that she owns up to the fact that some of them are her mistakes.
So what do you say to someone like her? I just gave her a lot of encouraging words and said that she can always rebuild her life. It takes a lot of work, but it is not impossible.
Margaux and I are still in touch. Once in a while, she shares happy moments with her kids. I am happy because they represent hope for her...five good reasons to live and keep fighting. She's bitter about the little things she can't give her kids, such as a decent bed and the many comforts she enjoyed as a child, but I told her that all the material things in the world can never replace a mother's love.
Poverty is relative. In my eyes, they are not impoverished. They may lack a few luxuries, but they are together as a family. Sure, they all share one cramped bedroom and sleep on the floor, but they have a roof over their heads. They cannot afford designer labels anymore, but they have decent clothing. They may not eat out as often as they used to, but who says they have to, as long as they have three square meals everyday?
I pray that life will be kinder to Margaux. And I hope she also comes to realize the most important thing she has in her hands:
"Hey, you know what paradise is?
It's a lie.
A fantasy created by people
And places as we'd like them to be.
But you know what truth is?
It's that little baby you're holding,
And it's that man you fought with this morning.
The same one you're going to make love with tonight.
That's truth.
That's love."
For some strange reason, my trademark song is "I've Never Been to Me" by Charlene. It's an old 80s song. It is the sad story of a woman of pleasure telling her tale to a downtrodden housewife...a jaded soul rolling in wealth and "fabulosity", yet longs for her one true love. It's a poignant story of loneliness amidst wordly pleasures and wealth.
"Hey lady, you lady
Cursing at your life
You're a discontented mother
And a regimented wife.
I've no doubt you dream about
The things you never do,
But I wish someone had talked to me
Like I wanna talk to you...
Oh, I've been to Nice
And the Isle of Greece
While I sipped champagned on a yacht.
I moved like Harlow in Monte Carlo
And showed them what I've got.
I've been undressed by kings
And I've seen some things
That a woman ain't s'posed to see.
I've been to paradise,
But I've never been to me."
No, it is not my story. But it reminds me of someone I know. Let's call her Margaux. And, yes, I changed her name to protect her identity.
Margaux was my childhood friend. Nothing really special about our friendship -- we sat next to each other in grade school, traded secrets, let her copy off my homework because she was too lazy to do hers. At an early age, she got into relationships, attended parties of all the popular kids, led the campus dance troupe and generally did all those "cool" and "hip" things that popular students in school get into. We sure had a strange way of defining "cool" and "hip" back then. But she was nice.
After our elementary years, Margaux transferred to another school. An institution known equally for women of substance and women who...well, women. Apparently, she did not fit into the first category. Because of proximity, and maybe because of the disparity of our interests and circles of friends, we drifted apart and lost touch. No big disaster for me, though, and I'm guessing she felt the same.
Fast forward to more than a decade hence. I was surprised to find a note in my inbox from her. A pleasant surprise, indeed. I eagerly replied and said hello, all the while praising cyberspace for opportunities such as this.
It was only a few hours later when I received her reply. The contents of her message surprised me. Not because I'm not used to hearing such stories, but because it's not really something you share with someone you haven't spoken to for the last 10 years or so. The words came pouring out of her like water from a broken dam during a storm. Niagara Falls, baby.
Margaux shared that she has several kids now. When she was still with Husband #1, she worked abroad and sent all her earnings to him. Margaux broke up with him after she went home to an empty bank account. Turns out he spent everything she earned on frivolous things. Jerk.
I was also surprised to find out that she worked for almost a year in this Asian country where money comes easy. There was a quick disclaimer that she "did nothing of that sort", but that she "earned easy money". I did not prod her any further, but of course, my imaginative mind tends to run away. Not that I want to think the worst about her, but it seems to be a logical conclusion.
She now has a second husband and has other kids with him. But they now live on a day-to-day existence because of mismanaged wealth. They lost all their properties and business due to excessive spending, drugs and gambling. According to Margaux, they now live off the money given to them by charitable family members, which isn't much.
It saddened me because I've always known Margaux to be a happy-go-lucky person. While not ridiculously wealthy, her family (birth parents) was well-off and she lived a comfortable life. She had a lot of opportunites, but she let them all get away from her because of her circumstances. And now, while putting up a brave front, she is living a life of regret and bitterness.
She hardly talked about her husband. She only mentioned him twice: once, to say that he drank everyday, and the second time, to say that he lost everything to drugs and gambling. But he is, after all, still her husband, and they are together "for richer and for poorer".
The good thing about her is that she owns up to the fact that some of them are her mistakes.
So what do you say to someone like her? I just gave her a lot of encouraging words and said that she can always rebuild her life. It takes a lot of work, but it is not impossible.
Margaux and I are still in touch. Once in a while, she shares happy moments with her kids. I am happy because they represent hope for her...five good reasons to live and keep fighting. She's bitter about the little things she can't give her kids, such as a decent bed and the many comforts she enjoyed as a child, but I told her that all the material things in the world can never replace a mother's love.
Poverty is relative. In my eyes, they are not impoverished. They may lack a few luxuries, but they are together as a family. Sure, they all share one cramped bedroom and sleep on the floor, but they have a roof over their heads. They cannot afford designer labels anymore, but they have decent clothing. They may not eat out as often as they used to, but who says they have to, as long as they have three square meals everyday?
I pray that life will be kinder to Margaux. And I hope she also comes to realize the most important thing she has in her hands:
"Hey, you know what paradise is?
It's a lie.
A fantasy created by people
And places as we'd like them to be.
But you know what truth is?
It's that little baby you're holding,
And it's that man you fought with this morning.
The same one you're going to make love with tonight.
That's truth.
That's love."
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