The night is now over
Should I have tugged the moon to stay
It still would have gone away
But the memory is etched forever
Though it might never
Never ever return.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Saturday, September 5, 2009
The Simplicity of the Gospel
Sometimes it breaks my heart that Christians, or people who call themselves so, always seek to debate about things about the Gospel and the nature of God only for the sake of winning an argument.
The Gospel of God is simple: Jesus Christ died on the cross for the sins of men-men who did not deserve grace and God Himself- once and for all that whosoever believes in what He did will have be saved.
If they recognize the Bible as the final authority of their lives, then why do they have to classify their beliefs as "Calvinistic" or such? The Gospel is the Gospel. That is that. Who cares what Calvinism is? The Bible is enough.
And what's more is that the Gospel does not exist as a topic to debate over. The Gospel exists so that people may understand the saving love of God and accept Him. There's completely no point in arguing over the mysteries of a God too big for the human mind to fully understand.
Christianity is not a contest. Christianity is a relationship with the Lord.
The Gospel of God is simple: Jesus Christ died on the cross for the sins of men-men who did not deserve grace and God Himself- once and for all that whosoever believes in what He did will have be saved.
If they recognize the Bible as the final authority of their lives, then why do they have to classify their beliefs as "Calvinistic" or such? The Gospel is the Gospel. That is that. Who cares what Calvinism is? The Bible is enough.
And what's more is that the Gospel does not exist as a topic to debate over. The Gospel exists so that people may understand the saving love of God and accept Him. There's completely no point in arguing over the mysteries of a God too big for the human mind to fully understand.
Christianity is not a contest. Christianity is a relationship with the Lord.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Day Ricky Died
The thick bunch of newspaper flew upward only to ease back down in a slow and deliberate zigzagging motion, the way gravity is supposed to pull it down. Ricky Del Mar watched it, thinking of nothing in particular. The humidity was making it hard for him to think. He picked the Daily Inquirer with a single jerky movement of his right hand and flipped through the pages, knowing exactly what he was looking for, having looked at it at least thrice now. And there it was, almost shouting at him from the quiet and sleepy gray of text. The Obituary Section. A huge picture of him at the last column on the right. His were unsmiling eyes, with heavy dark circles marking his sleep-deprived life. And below his picture were the words Ricky
The phone rang. It rattled his nerves. It had been eerily quiet. The phone rang twice. In the middle of the third ring, he picked it up. “Yes?” he croaked on the phone, sounding surprisingly breathless, as if he just went for a run. “Sir, your wife called, she asked if you could come to Haley’s game today,” Rita, his secretary said, very monotonously, as if she was bored to death. “What day is it today, Rita? Isn’t Haley’s game tomorrow?” “It’s June 27th sir. Haley’s game is today. You told me to take note,” was the equally bored answer. “Oh yes, Haley’s game today. Then I die tomorrow. Tell Miriam I’m sorry, I’ll be busy the whole day.” “Sir? You what tomorrow?” Then Ricky hung up.
Friday, June 5, 2009
It's Tonight
It's tonight
I want to be alone with you
I want to have you
All around me
With no one watching
I want you to hear me
Crying out to you
Sweep me away
In your love, sweep me away
In your love
Where I'm who I am
Where you draw me closer
And I'm drawn near you
Where even in the night
Even in the emptiest shadows
I'm free
I'm lost in you
My heart is open
Tonight it longs for you
Tonight I want to be with you
Empty yet full
Broken yet whole
Hear me out
Do you hear
The songs in my heart?
They cry about you
Sweeping me away
In your love
Sweeping me away
In your love
Sweeping me away
Where I'm with you
Where I find you
And nothing else matters
Because when I open my eyes
I see you
Holding my hands
We're lost in each other
And when I close my eyes
You're up there
Overcoming in my place
Carrying my pain
And you look at me
Breathing your last
Yet here forever
Where you're never away
And you smile at me
When I come to you
And tonight I seek you
I'm lost in your love
And there I want
To be lost forever
Singing forever
How much you love me
How much I love you
I love you
Tonight I love you
And then tomorrow
When the skies glow with your sun
I love you
Then when the moon comes
I love you
And the darkness is all around
I love you
Until my singing is no more
I love you
Until I'm no more
I love you
Until I'm with you
Forever with you
to dwell in your love
To love you back
To love you even more
With a love I'd never have known
Until the work with me is done
Until I'm yours
Completely yours
Fully surrendered
Fully given
Complete
Totally whole
Until then
Sweep me
Sweep me away
In your love
Sweep me away.
I want to be alone with you
I want to have you
All around me
With no one watching
I want you to hear me
Crying out to you
Sweep me away
In your love, sweep me away
In your love
Where I'm who I am
Where you draw me closer
And I'm drawn near you
Where even in the night
Even in the emptiest shadows
I'm free
I'm lost in you
My heart is open
Tonight it longs for you
Tonight I want to be with you
Empty yet full
Broken yet whole
Hear me out
Do you hear
The songs in my heart?
They cry about you
Sweeping me away
In your love
Sweeping me away
In your love
Sweeping me away
Where I'm with you
Where I find you
And nothing else matters
Because when I open my eyes
I see you
Holding my hands
We're lost in each other
And when I close my eyes
You're up there
Overcoming in my place
Carrying my pain
And you look at me
Breathing your last
Yet here forever
Where you're never away
And you smile at me
When I come to you
And tonight I seek you
I'm lost in your love
And there I want
To be lost forever
Singing forever
How much you love me
How much I love you
I love you
Tonight I love you
And then tomorrow
When the skies glow with your sun
I love you
Then when the moon comes
I love you
And the darkness is all around
I love you
Until my singing is no more
I love you
Until I'm no more
I love you
Until I'm with you
Forever with you
to dwell in your love
To love you back
To love you even more
With a love I'd never have known
Until the work with me is done
Until I'm yours
Completely yours
Fully surrendered
Fully given
Complete
Totally whole
Until then
Sweep me
Sweep me away
In your love
Sweep me away.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Prologue
She walked on a carpeted aisle wearing an elaborately designed white dress, holding on to a bouquet of fresh white roses as if it was the last thing in the world she would do. And the smile on her face, a wide grin that showed an adequate number of teeth, did not ever leave her face- even when she stepped on the hem of her dress and almost fell face down on the floor with the cameraman, alert as ever, to take all the action in. Only her eyes showed that her heart indeed jumped for a second there, opening so wide in surprise that she’d been able to walk on and let go of the hem of her dress.
But she quickly recovered and not a soul noticed that she’d come so close to giving the guests mighty cramps in the stomach. Why, even her parents might laugh at her, though they’d try to hold it in first, for sure. And she wouldn’t have known what to do then. She thought that maybe she’d have given running away a try. Oh, and she’d run as fast as she’d be able until her legs quivered and her knees gave up.
But that was over. No use making a big deal out of it. Whew, Good Heavens, thank God! So, she looked straight on ahead to find out that there were no more people walking before her. They’d all gotten to their places. When did that happen? The walk felt extremely long. And all the while, her smile was there, bright and never fading- until her eyes settled by the far end of the room, at the one thing she really wanted to see. Until then, her smile was even brighter.
He was dressed mostly in black and she could swear he looked like someone she saw in a movie before. He stood next to another man- the best man- shifting his weight from one leg to another and wiping sweat off his forehead. At the sight of him, an emotion so strong overwhelmed her. It was something she didn’t want to put a name to simply because words didn’t suffice. The feeling was so great, so much bigger than herself, that it made her heart ache. But then, why the trouble, she settled to call it love. And yes, she discovered, love made her heart ache because love was supposed to be beyond herself.
She giggled as she stared at him wiping at his forehead so frequently, as if he was extremely hot or- most likely, she thought- very nervous. I’m not running away, sweetheart, don’t you fret, she wanted to tell him. But he was still so far away. She still had a long walk to do. She’d tell him later.
And when, at last, she reached him, there were tears in her eyes. Then it became confusing if she was happy or sad. There were tears in his eyes too and if he’d spoken, he probably would have said something as cliché as ‘there’s something in my eye’. But that wasn’t like him at all; he’d more likely say ‘oh dear, I don’t think I can push through with this (sniff)’ and then give her a playful wink. Then they’d both stifle laughter, their shoulders shaking. But then he didn’t utter a word and that was just as well, because they didn’t want the guests to wonder what was up with them.
As they walked towards the priest, in front of everyone, he took her hand and enclosed it in his. His hand was warm, and she knew that not far from now, their hands will start to sweat but he wouldn’t pull his hand from hers- until she did it herself. “Your hand’s icky,” she used to always say. And he always responded with that hearty laughter of his, until his eyes watered and he badly needed to shut up. But she always said his hand was icky and he never told her anything like, “why, m’lady, your hand’s just about as icky as mine.” He just laughed. And she always laughed along with him because it just wasn’t possible to hear him laugh and not laugh along. Sometimes, it got her wondering why she was even laughing in the first place, after her facial muscles were spent and before she realized that the question made her look stupid.
She savored the feel of him next to her- the scent of his perfume and the warmth of his breath as he spoke. She felt as if she was born to be exactly where she was. Right here, right now. But then, she was feeling a lot of feelings and thinking a lot of things too. Maybe it was just something brides normally felt next to their grooms. But somehow, she refused to believe that because that reduced it to something so insignificant. And because she didn’t think that was the case.
Then, drowning in the depth of her thoughts, she remembered that she was supposed to tell him something- that thing about being a runaway bride. She smiled inside and imagined how he’d respond to it. Would he shrug, maybe? Oh no, he wouldn’t. Not him. He would smile, even if he didn’t find it amusing at all. That thought encouraged her. She squeezed his hand and from the corner of her eye, she saw him move. He was looking at her, eyes asking, she was sure: what’s wrong, dear? Is anything the matter? She was supposed to be teasing him, not answering immediately, but it later dawned on her that she was dealing with a patient man here. He could stand there forever, waiting for her to respond. And, truly, hadn’t he proved the astonishing extent of his patience? So, she gave the little game up and spoke.
“Well, sweeth-” Her tongue was stuck at the roof of her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and drool would have easily dripped off her lips had she not closed her mouth immediately. She did it so suddenly her teeth hurt. She couldn't believe it but she forgot the name of the groom.
Her understanding of her current state came to her like the end of the world. It was awfully unexpected. She’d forgotten his name, now how crazy was that? She closed her eyes and concentrated, hearing the monotone of the priest’s words somewhere in the background. She did, as her professor used to tell her, squeeze blood out of a turnip. Only that there wasn’t blood to squeeze at all. It was all in vain.
But didn’t I know those things about him? About us? Of course I know him. I- I just forgot. Her eyebrows met and her head suddenly ached so much, throbbing so terribly she could have demanded for a new one and got it.
I don’t know who I’m getting married to, she thought. But that was insane. She did know; she was very sure of that. Wasn’t she just a few minutes ago, remembering fond memories of him? Just like the time when…the time when- oh snap! I forgot that too? And then, as she was debating with herself, she thought, oh boy, that fall was almost a sure thing! She exhaled a lot of air and remembered that troublesome hem of her dress. And that was all she remembered thinking (on her way down the aisle): that troublesome hem of her dress, and of course the fact that she didn’t know who the groom was.
Then, as if awaken from a dream, she became aware of his hand around hers. It was warm, almost comforting, but she could feel the promise of sweat. She pulled her hand free of his and lifted her eyes to face. Then, all her blood fled from her, leaving her skin looking like bond paper. The groom’s face was blank. The space where the eyes should have been was frighteningly empty. His face was just a fair-colored space with hair above and a neck below. She blinked hard but everything was still the same.
She didn’t like staring at his face- or whatever it was called- but her eyes were glued to it. I’m going crazy, she thought. Normal people don’t see blank faces, do they? She willed her eyes closed and, good Heavens, they did. But she couldn’t close her eyes forever and curiosity was soon seeping into her veins. Slowly, she opened her left eye then her right, and looked at his face again. “Wh-Who are you?” she asked, her voice slightly trembling. There was nothing but the silence. Somehow, the priest had stopped his recitation and the guests did not even whisper. She wanted to see if they’re still there but couldn’t. Her eyes stayed on the blank face as much as she wanted to look away.
When the groom stayed quiet, annoyance started creeping into her veins too. She wanted for him to answer. She wanted it so badly that she almost grabbed him by the elbows and shook him for whatever it was worth. Well, maybe he was asleep, you know. You’d never tell given the circumstances. But eventually, the groom actually spoke. His voice was distantly familiar, which annoyed her all the more, but soft and soothing to the ears. She thought she even liked it, in spite of herself. “Did you cut your hair?” the groom asked. And, as she thought about answering, she was never, ever more startled in her life.
…
When she woke up the next day, the only things she remembered of last night’s dream were an idea of a peculiar wedding- it had something to do with a strange groom- and a question that had no apparent connection to anything at all.
But she just shrugged it all off, thinking it wouldn’t matter at all anyway. She’d forget all about the dream later in the day. She always does.
…
It had been a full day and a lot has happened, although there was really only one thing she would think about tonight, staring at the ceiling, struggling to sleep. She’d lost a patient today. She thought of how foolish she’d been- assuming she had everything under control, as if she was God Himself. She’d been a surgeon for quite a while now, and she knew better than putting confidence on herself. Doctors do make mistakes- and that’s exactly what she did. She was mistaken big time. But of course she was just exaggerating things- the patient still would have died even if she squeezed her brain dry and spent her entire life treating Mrs. Alberts. It was her time to go- no further explanations needed. Some things just happen because they do- and that was that. She just found that too hard to understand.
So there she was now, walking towards her car looking like she just knew she was going to die tomorrow, thinking dumb Jessie. That’s what you are- dumb.
As she inserted the key to the slot at her car door, a car parked exactly beside her. It was an old Mitsubishi Lancer. Dr. Timothy Reynolds got out of the car, a baseball cap on his head and a smile on his lips. The smile was extremely contagious. Despite everything, Jessie smiled back. Dr. Reynolds slammed his car door and Jessie feared the car’s parts might fall apart. It stayed in one piece though, but it badly needed replacing. For a moment, Jessie forgot about Mrs. Alberts. She even felt like laughing now.
“You need to buy a new car Dr. Reynolds,” Jessie said, fighting the urge to laugh, reminding herself that it wasn’t polite to laugh at people.
“Yep, but I just love this baby,” Dr. Reynolds answered, patting his car’s fender. Then, he stared at her, his eyes without a trace of emotion, “You’re looking good today Dr. Peterson. Did you cut your hair?”
Jessie’s hand stopped at the door handle and she turned to look at Dr. Reynolds. A wide smile was across her face. Her other hand reached to her head and she remembered that she did. She had cut her hair yesterday. For a second there, she stood next to her car disbelieving she’d forgotten that. But then, she guessed, hat's what losing a patient did.
“I did, thank you,” she said, almost demurely, and Dr. Reynolds nodded.
Then she was on her way home, tired and sleepy. She didn’t even look back through her side view mirror at the man whose smile she’d been wanting to see in her dreams. She wasn't even aware that her dream just came true- well not all of it though. Some of it was just about to unfold.
ENDBut she quickly recovered and not a soul noticed that she’d come so close to giving the guests mighty cramps in the stomach. Why, even her parents might laugh at her, though they’d try to hold it in first, for sure. And she wouldn’t have known what to do then. She thought that maybe she’d have given running away a try. Oh, and she’d run as fast as she’d be able until her legs quivered and her knees gave up.
But that was over. No use making a big deal out of it. Whew, Good Heavens, thank God! So, she looked straight on ahead to find out that there were no more people walking before her. They’d all gotten to their places. When did that happen? The walk felt extremely long. And all the while, her smile was there, bright and never fading- until her eyes settled by the far end of the room, at the one thing she really wanted to see. Until then, her smile was even brighter.
He was dressed mostly in black and she could swear he looked like someone she saw in a movie before. He stood next to another man- the best man- shifting his weight from one leg to another and wiping sweat off his forehead. At the sight of him, an emotion so strong overwhelmed her. It was something she didn’t want to put a name to simply because words didn’t suffice. The feeling was so great, so much bigger than herself, that it made her heart ache. But then, why the trouble, she settled to call it love. And yes, she discovered, love made her heart ache because love was supposed to be beyond herself.
She giggled as she stared at him wiping at his forehead so frequently, as if he was extremely hot or- most likely, she thought- very nervous. I’m not running away, sweetheart, don’t you fret, she wanted to tell him. But he was still so far away. She still had a long walk to do. She’d tell him later.
And when, at last, she reached him, there were tears in her eyes. Then it became confusing if she was happy or sad. There were tears in his eyes too and if he’d spoken, he probably would have said something as cliché as ‘there’s something in my eye’. But that wasn’t like him at all; he’d more likely say ‘oh dear, I don’t think I can push through with this (sniff)’ and then give her a playful wink. Then they’d both stifle laughter, their shoulders shaking. But then he didn’t utter a word and that was just as well, because they didn’t want the guests to wonder what was up with them.
As they walked towards the priest, in front of everyone, he took her hand and enclosed it in his. His hand was warm, and she knew that not far from now, their hands will start to sweat but he wouldn’t pull his hand from hers- until she did it herself. “Your hand’s icky,” she used to always say. And he always responded with that hearty laughter of his, until his eyes watered and he badly needed to shut up. But she always said his hand was icky and he never told her anything like, “why, m’lady, your hand’s just about as icky as mine.” He just laughed. And she always laughed along with him because it just wasn’t possible to hear him laugh and not laugh along. Sometimes, it got her wondering why she was even laughing in the first place, after her facial muscles were spent and before she realized that the question made her look stupid.
She savored the feel of him next to her- the scent of his perfume and the warmth of his breath as he spoke. She felt as if she was born to be exactly where she was. Right here, right now. But then, she was feeling a lot of feelings and thinking a lot of things too. Maybe it was just something brides normally felt next to their grooms. But somehow, she refused to believe that because that reduced it to something so insignificant. And because she didn’t think that was the case.
Then, drowning in the depth of her thoughts, she remembered that she was supposed to tell him something- that thing about being a runaway bride. She smiled inside and imagined how he’d respond to it. Would he shrug, maybe? Oh no, he wouldn’t. Not him. He would smile, even if he didn’t find it amusing at all. That thought encouraged her. She squeezed his hand and from the corner of her eye, she saw him move. He was looking at her, eyes asking, she was sure: what’s wrong, dear? Is anything the matter? She was supposed to be teasing him, not answering immediately, but it later dawned on her that she was dealing with a patient man here. He could stand there forever, waiting for her to respond. And, truly, hadn’t he proved the astonishing extent of his patience? So, she gave the little game up and spoke.
“Well, sweeth-” Her tongue was stuck at the roof of her mouth. Her eyes grew wide and drool would have easily dripped off her lips had she not closed her mouth immediately. She did it so suddenly her teeth hurt. She couldn't believe it but she forgot the name of the groom.
Her understanding of her current state came to her like the end of the world. It was awfully unexpected. She’d forgotten his name, now how crazy was that? She closed her eyes and concentrated, hearing the monotone of the priest’s words somewhere in the background. She did, as her professor used to tell her, squeeze blood out of a turnip. Only that there wasn’t blood to squeeze at all. It was all in vain.
But didn’t I know those things about him? About us? Of course I know him. I- I just forgot. Her eyebrows met and her head suddenly ached so much, throbbing so terribly she could have demanded for a new one and got it.
I don’t know who I’m getting married to, she thought. But that was insane. She did know; she was very sure of that. Wasn’t she just a few minutes ago, remembering fond memories of him? Just like the time when…the time when- oh snap! I forgot that too? And then, as she was debating with herself, she thought, oh boy, that fall was almost a sure thing! She exhaled a lot of air and remembered that troublesome hem of her dress. And that was all she remembered thinking (on her way down the aisle): that troublesome hem of her dress, and of course the fact that she didn’t know who the groom was.
Then, as if awaken from a dream, she became aware of his hand around hers. It was warm, almost comforting, but she could feel the promise of sweat. She pulled her hand free of his and lifted her eyes to face. Then, all her blood fled from her, leaving her skin looking like bond paper. The groom’s face was blank. The space where the eyes should have been was frighteningly empty. His face was just a fair-colored space with hair above and a neck below. She blinked hard but everything was still the same.
She didn’t like staring at his face- or whatever it was called- but her eyes were glued to it. I’m going crazy, she thought. Normal people don’t see blank faces, do they? She willed her eyes closed and, good Heavens, they did. But she couldn’t close her eyes forever and curiosity was soon seeping into her veins. Slowly, she opened her left eye then her right, and looked at his face again. “Wh-Who are you?” she asked, her voice slightly trembling. There was nothing but the silence. Somehow, the priest had stopped his recitation and the guests did not even whisper. She wanted to see if they’re still there but couldn’t. Her eyes stayed on the blank face as much as she wanted to look away.
When the groom stayed quiet, annoyance started creeping into her veins too. She wanted for him to answer. She wanted it so badly that she almost grabbed him by the elbows and shook him for whatever it was worth. Well, maybe he was asleep, you know. You’d never tell given the circumstances. But eventually, the groom actually spoke. His voice was distantly familiar, which annoyed her all the more, but soft and soothing to the ears. She thought she even liked it, in spite of herself. “Did you cut your hair?” the groom asked. And, as she thought about answering, she was never, ever more startled in her life.
…
When she woke up the next day, the only things she remembered of last night’s dream were an idea of a peculiar wedding- it had something to do with a strange groom- and a question that had no apparent connection to anything at all.
But she just shrugged it all off, thinking it wouldn’t matter at all anyway. She’d forget all about the dream later in the day. She always does.
…
It had been a full day and a lot has happened, although there was really only one thing she would think about tonight, staring at the ceiling, struggling to sleep. She’d lost a patient today. She thought of how foolish she’d been- assuming she had everything under control, as if she was God Himself. She’d been a surgeon for quite a while now, and she knew better than putting confidence on herself. Doctors do make mistakes- and that’s exactly what she did. She was mistaken big time. But of course she was just exaggerating things- the patient still would have died even if she squeezed her brain dry and spent her entire life treating Mrs. Alberts. It was her time to go- no further explanations needed. Some things just happen because they do- and that was that. She just found that too hard to understand.
So there she was now, walking towards her car looking like she just knew she was going to die tomorrow, thinking dumb Jessie. That’s what you are- dumb.
As she inserted the key to the slot at her car door, a car parked exactly beside her. It was an old Mitsubishi Lancer. Dr. Timothy Reynolds got out of the car, a baseball cap on his head and a smile on his lips. The smile was extremely contagious. Despite everything, Jessie smiled back. Dr. Reynolds slammed his car door and Jessie feared the car’s parts might fall apart. It stayed in one piece though, but it badly needed replacing. For a moment, Jessie forgot about Mrs. Alberts. She even felt like laughing now.
“You need to buy a new car Dr. Reynolds,” Jessie said, fighting the urge to laugh, reminding herself that it wasn’t polite to laugh at people.
“Yep, but I just love this baby,” Dr. Reynolds answered, patting his car’s fender. Then, he stared at her, his eyes without a trace of emotion, “You’re looking good today Dr. Peterson. Did you cut your hair?”
Jessie’s hand stopped at the door handle and she turned to look at Dr. Reynolds. A wide smile was across her face. Her other hand reached to her head and she remembered that she did. She had cut her hair yesterday. For a second there, she stood next to her car disbelieving she’d forgotten that. But then, she guessed, hat's what losing a patient did.
“I did, thank you,” she said, almost demurely, and Dr. Reynolds nodded.
Then she was on her way home, tired and sleepy. She didn’t even look back through her side view mirror at the man whose smile she’d been wanting to see in her dreams. She wasn't even aware that her dream just came true- well not all of it though. Some of it was just about to unfold.
Sammy Boy
I know how I look, Sammy thought, trying to ignore the penetrating stare of Bill Anson. Bill Anson the Handsomest Creature on Earth. Bill Anson the Great. High and Mighty Bill Anson. Sammy tried to shake off all these thoughts while he felt as if a hole was starting to melt its way through the middle portion of his lanky body. “Sammy Boy!” Bill’s unmistakable voice boomed across the room, making Sammy’s head jerk to its direction. “Yes?” Sammy’s answer was almost a whisper. He cringed at the devilish grin across Bill’s face. It meant trouble. Bill stood up from the armchair he’d been sitting on and went to Sammy. He draped an arm around Sammy’s shoulders and gave them a tight little squeeze. “Party at my house tonight. You’re invited.” At this, Sammy’s eyes bulged so much they could easily be mistaken as trying to fall off their sockets. His mouth, now a perfect oval, hung open as if meaning to say something. I’ve never been invited to a party before, Sammy could have just said. Bill chuckled. The sound wasn’t a bit lovely, Sammy noted. “Yes, I’m inviting you. So you better come.” The wide grin resurfaced. Sammy stared at Bill’s mouth as he was speaking and Sammy got lost in the way Bill’s mouth moved up and down, up and down, as he spoke. Somehow, it looked hilarious to him. He wanted to laugh so badly. But of course he restrained himself. Laughing at Billy would be a huge mistake. Massive.
“What’s the occasion, Bill?” Sammy asked as politely as he could after a serious consideration of the major holidays of the year. He thought maybe it was Bill’s birthday. Then he quickly threw the idea away. Who in Royal Commons forgot Bill’s birthday? “Well, nothing beats a Friday night, Sammy boy. And you’d be missed if you don’t come.” Bill’s grin grew wider than ever. Sammy fell silent.
If there was one thing Sammy sure knew, it’s that nobody was going to miss him if he chose to be a no-show. People don’t invite ‘freaks’ to parties. People deliberately forget about ‘freaks’. Bill gave Sammy a gentle pat on the hump on his back. Sammy exhaled sharply. He was suddenly reminded of the strange addition to his anatomy. How he hated that hump. He loathed it with all the life in him. He found it hard to accept the reason why people called him a ‘Mountain Range’. Of course that’s when they forget that he also went by the name ‘Humpy Sammy’. It was the reason why walking along corridors was a picture of the Parting of the Red Sea. The crowd always split exactly where he passed- as if he was Moses himself. And then occasionally, someone would comment: “Hey Humpy! Cool Backpack!” to which Sammy would automatically hug the backpack that he never wore on his back closer to his chest, squeezing comfort out of it. At that point, everyone laughed. The sound of their mocking laughter was horrible. It rang in his ears for weeks, even before he got another dose of it. It reminded him everyday how he didn’t ever belong. It reminded him that he was a freak show. The pain created an empty hole in him. The pain was new every day, and only Sammy knew how painful it was. But he chose to live with it because he found nothing else to do.
So when Bill the High and Mighty invited him to the party, he was expecting the part when people would tell him to get real; come on, invite you to a party? It always came with pranks like this. But strangely, it never came and Sammy’s heart fluttered with hope. Bill left him alone and went back to his friends. It even seemed as if it never happened at all.
He smiled to himself and he wasn’t aware that he looked quite stupid and scary with that smile. He decided he was going to the party. And then, with tightly closed eyes, he prayed that the hump would go away. Go away- just like that. He prayed in his armchair just minutes before Professor Harding arrived in the classroom with noisy and bored college students, just like every time.
…
Bill walked around his house, one arm around a stoned-looking brunette’s waist, laughing idiotically at a joke he shared to a group of people clustered together playing cards. Those people had laughed so hard at his joke, throwing their heads back and clutching their bellies. But he knew they laughed only for the sake of laughing and because they felt like they should. But for Bill, the joke was funny enough to set pieces of chewed cracker flying in the air. Bill didn’t care if he was the only one who found himself funny, as long as people forced themselves to laugh along. And why wouldn’t they? He was Bill- and that was that.
Bill looked for Sammy among the people crammed in his house. There was no sign of him. Then he saw it- the unmistakable hump on Sammy’s back glowing with the light from the open refrigerator it stood next to. Bill almost immediately sprinted to the direction of that deformed back. A wave of relief ran through him as he narrowed the distance between him and Sammy. Finally, breath heavy and chest heaving, Bill reached Sammy. Just that it wasn’t Sammy at all. Bill’s mouth fell open when the back he’d thought was humped straightened and revealed that it was just like any other back after all. Nothing extra. It was Phil, who’d bended forward into the fridge looking for something- a glass of water maybe. Slowly, taking some precious time, sweat trickled down his spine. Things shouldn’t go wrong, he thought. At once, confidence left him and he was suddenly cold. His arrogant swagger vanished to a drunken attempt at walking straight. When he heard that voice the other night, it scared hell out of him and he decided without any thought that he wasn’t going to dare disobey.
Bill tried to look tough, though he was far from it. He knew he was just a coward who hid behind connections- ones that his father had earned. No connection could help him now. He had to face the situation by himself. That scared him even more.
When he fell out of sleep that night, the voice unmistakably said: “Make sure Sammy comes along.” He’d instantly looked around his room although he didn’t really need to. He knew he wouldn’t see who the voice was from. He’d heard the voice as clear as any sound from a speaker on maximum volume. The voice rang in his ears so clearly he couldn’t deny it existed. He’d even felt the vibration that created it. He didn’t recognize the voice, the low murmur that it was. But the fear that crawled in his veins the instant that he heard it was enough. For the first time, someone told Bill what to do- and Bill obeyed without any debate. It was unusual as Bill’s immediate obedience.
When Bill realized that almost an hour had gone without any trace of Sammy, he started to shake, first inside then he trembled as if he was struggling with hypothermia. He was very afraid. When the voice said ‘Make sure Sammy comes along’, it had also meant ‘Make sure or else….’ And Bill knew that too, like all the other weird things he now knew and would die to not know.
Bill let go of the brunette the moment he understood that he was indeed trembling and he started to frantically search the house. He went upstairs with unstable knees. They felt like snapping any moment now. He opened three bedroom doors but not a shadow of Sammy was in any of the rooms. He searched bathrooms, went down to the garage, looked into every corner of the house and surveyed the street. Sammy wasn’t anywhere.
He was bathing in sweat now and he was breathing in ragged gasps. He fought hard to steady his hands but lost. He wanted to yell “Sam!” at the top of his voice but stopped himself. He didn’t want to go insane. He later decided to go back inside the house and look there again. You know Sammy’s not there, his mind told him. “Shut up!” Bill said aloud at himself and stepped into the house. As he walked inside, looking at everything and everyone but not really seeing, he felt as desperate as a dying beggar. He thought, ‘what’s the point?’ but went on anyway. His arms dropped to his sides and he didn’t notice that his shoulders were sagging so low he looked like a man-ape. Make sure Sammy comes along, the voice reminded him. It reminded him that he failed. He walked around the house mindlessly, hoping to death that Sammy would greet him there, with a wide grateful smile painted across his innocent face, but knowing that Sammy wouldn’t. Make sure Sammy comes along. Or else.
…
He walked along the corridor and, as was expected, the crowd parted in the middle. They must’ve seen Moses himself in him. He stared at the floor, trying to ignore the way people inched farther from him. He sighed weakly. It was lonely to be where you did not belong. He, of all people, knew that so well now but he still couldn’t get used to it. The loneliness was new everyday. It ate at his insides and gnawed away at his spirit.
Every day, he was amazed at how he managed to survive. And at night just before he went to bed, he always closed his eyes and prayed a prayer of thanks, just like every time. He’d learned to do that some time before, after his father sent him to the hospital and the doctor told him that there was an oversized tumor in his body. It was not painful- not physically though, and the doctor confirmed his feeling that it had been growing. Funny, he thought, where the tumor grew- the tumor that the doctors had no name whatsoever for. How he’d hoped they’d just had a name for it. He wouldn’t care if it was back cancer, if there was anything like that. If only it wouldn’t be this nameless hump growing on his back as if it had a life of its own. They weren’t even able to point out to him the causes for such growth. As the days passed and he grew more aware of its presence, he developed a certain dislike towards it. He hated it with every significant meaning of the word.
That day, as he sat quite uncomfortably on his armchair, he closed his eyes as tight as his facial muscles allowed and prayed for the tumor to go away. Go away- just like that. As he was opening his eyes, finishing his litany of requests, laughter roared across the room. Then, the source of the horrible sound remarked, a devilish grin on his face: “Hey Billy, cool backpack!” The rest of the people in the room then contributed to the horrifying chorus. And no one but Bill knew how painful it was.
“What’s the occasion, Bill?” Sammy asked as politely as he could after a serious consideration of the major holidays of the year. He thought maybe it was Bill’s birthday. Then he quickly threw the idea away. Who in Royal Commons forgot Bill’s birthday? “Well, nothing beats a Friday night, Sammy boy. And you’d be missed if you don’t come.” Bill’s grin grew wider than ever. Sammy fell silent.
If there was one thing Sammy sure knew, it’s that nobody was going to miss him if he chose to be a no-show. People don’t invite ‘freaks’ to parties. People deliberately forget about ‘freaks’. Bill gave Sammy a gentle pat on the hump on his back. Sammy exhaled sharply. He was suddenly reminded of the strange addition to his anatomy. How he hated that hump. He loathed it with all the life in him. He found it hard to accept the reason why people called him a ‘Mountain Range’. Of course that’s when they forget that he also went by the name ‘Humpy Sammy’. It was the reason why walking along corridors was a picture of the Parting of the Red Sea. The crowd always split exactly where he passed- as if he was Moses himself. And then occasionally, someone would comment: “Hey Humpy! Cool Backpack!” to which Sammy would automatically hug the backpack that he never wore on his back closer to his chest, squeezing comfort out of it. At that point, everyone laughed. The sound of their mocking laughter was horrible. It rang in his ears for weeks, even before he got another dose of it. It reminded him everyday how he didn’t ever belong. It reminded him that he was a freak show. The pain created an empty hole in him. The pain was new every day, and only Sammy knew how painful it was. But he chose to live with it because he found nothing else to do.
So when Bill the High and Mighty invited him to the party, he was expecting the part when people would tell him to get real; come on, invite you to a party? It always came with pranks like this. But strangely, it never came and Sammy’s heart fluttered with hope. Bill left him alone and went back to his friends. It even seemed as if it never happened at all.
He smiled to himself and he wasn’t aware that he looked quite stupid and scary with that smile. He decided he was going to the party. And then, with tightly closed eyes, he prayed that the hump would go away. Go away- just like that. He prayed in his armchair just minutes before Professor Harding arrived in the classroom with noisy and bored college students, just like every time.
…
Bill walked around his house, one arm around a stoned-looking brunette’s waist, laughing idiotically at a joke he shared to a group of people clustered together playing cards. Those people had laughed so hard at his joke, throwing their heads back and clutching their bellies. But he knew they laughed only for the sake of laughing and because they felt like they should. But for Bill, the joke was funny enough to set pieces of chewed cracker flying in the air. Bill didn’t care if he was the only one who found himself funny, as long as people forced themselves to laugh along. And why wouldn’t they? He was Bill- and that was that.
Bill looked for Sammy among the people crammed in his house. There was no sign of him. Then he saw it- the unmistakable hump on Sammy’s back glowing with the light from the open refrigerator it stood next to. Bill almost immediately sprinted to the direction of that deformed back. A wave of relief ran through him as he narrowed the distance between him and Sammy. Finally, breath heavy and chest heaving, Bill reached Sammy. Just that it wasn’t Sammy at all. Bill’s mouth fell open when the back he’d thought was humped straightened and revealed that it was just like any other back after all. Nothing extra. It was Phil, who’d bended forward into the fridge looking for something- a glass of water maybe. Slowly, taking some precious time, sweat trickled down his spine. Things shouldn’t go wrong, he thought. At once, confidence left him and he was suddenly cold. His arrogant swagger vanished to a drunken attempt at walking straight. When he heard that voice the other night, it scared hell out of him and he decided without any thought that he wasn’t going to dare disobey.
Bill tried to look tough, though he was far from it. He knew he was just a coward who hid behind connections- ones that his father had earned. No connection could help him now. He had to face the situation by himself. That scared him even more.
When he fell out of sleep that night, the voice unmistakably said: “Make sure Sammy comes along.” He’d instantly looked around his room although he didn’t really need to. He knew he wouldn’t see who the voice was from. He’d heard the voice as clear as any sound from a speaker on maximum volume. The voice rang in his ears so clearly he couldn’t deny it existed. He’d even felt the vibration that created it. He didn’t recognize the voice, the low murmur that it was. But the fear that crawled in his veins the instant that he heard it was enough. For the first time, someone told Bill what to do- and Bill obeyed without any debate. It was unusual as Bill’s immediate obedience.
When Bill realized that almost an hour had gone without any trace of Sammy, he started to shake, first inside then he trembled as if he was struggling with hypothermia. He was very afraid. When the voice said ‘Make sure Sammy comes along’, it had also meant ‘Make sure or else….’ And Bill knew that too, like all the other weird things he now knew and would die to not know.
Bill let go of the brunette the moment he understood that he was indeed trembling and he started to frantically search the house. He went upstairs with unstable knees. They felt like snapping any moment now. He opened three bedroom doors but not a shadow of Sammy was in any of the rooms. He searched bathrooms, went down to the garage, looked into every corner of the house and surveyed the street. Sammy wasn’t anywhere.
He was bathing in sweat now and he was breathing in ragged gasps. He fought hard to steady his hands but lost. He wanted to yell “Sam!” at the top of his voice but stopped himself. He didn’t want to go insane. He later decided to go back inside the house and look there again. You know Sammy’s not there, his mind told him. “Shut up!” Bill said aloud at himself and stepped into the house. As he walked inside, looking at everything and everyone but not really seeing, he felt as desperate as a dying beggar. He thought, ‘what’s the point?’ but went on anyway. His arms dropped to his sides and he didn’t notice that his shoulders were sagging so low he looked like a man-ape. Make sure Sammy comes along, the voice reminded him. It reminded him that he failed. He walked around the house mindlessly, hoping to death that Sammy would greet him there, with a wide grateful smile painted across his innocent face, but knowing that Sammy wouldn’t. Make sure Sammy comes along. Or else.
…
He walked along the corridor and, as was expected, the crowd parted in the middle. They must’ve seen Moses himself in him. He stared at the floor, trying to ignore the way people inched farther from him. He sighed weakly. It was lonely to be where you did not belong. He, of all people, knew that so well now but he still couldn’t get used to it. The loneliness was new everyday. It ate at his insides and gnawed away at his spirit.
Every day, he was amazed at how he managed to survive. And at night just before he went to bed, he always closed his eyes and prayed a prayer of thanks, just like every time. He’d learned to do that some time before, after his father sent him to the hospital and the doctor told him that there was an oversized tumor in his body. It was not painful- not physically though, and the doctor confirmed his feeling that it had been growing. Funny, he thought, where the tumor grew- the tumor that the doctors had no name whatsoever for. How he’d hoped they’d just had a name for it. He wouldn’t care if it was back cancer, if there was anything like that. If only it wouldn’t be this nameless hump growing on his back as if it had a life of its own. They weren’t even able to point out to him the causes for such growth. As the days passed and he grew more aware of its presence, he developed a certain dislike towards it. He hated it with every significant meaning of the word.
That day, as he sat quite uncomfortably on his armchair, he closed his eyes as tight as his facial muscles allowed and prayed for the tumor to go away. Go away- just like that. As he was opening his eyes, finishing his litany of requests, laughter roared across the room. Then, the source of the horrible sound remarked, a devilish grin on his face: “Hey Billy, cool backpack!” The rest of the people in the room then contributed to the horrifying chorus. And no one but Bill knew how painful it was.
Cover Over
1 Peter 4:18
Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.
What made this so hard for me to do? When all along I knew this so well?
Was it my pride? Was it my selfishness?
Whatever my reasons had been, they could not justify the mistakes I made.
I knew that God wants me to understand, to forgive, to look over the wrongs of others, to be gracious and gentle. But what I did was the exact opposite. I made my ego priority over the people that I love and value- even to the point of ignoring their feelings and hurting them even more.
It was such a distressing state to be in- knowing that you are hurting someone so dear to you yet you're not willing to let up and let go.
But as always, God is faithful and just.
I was wrong. He rebuked me. Oh and I'm telling you, it's not very comfortable being rebuked by God. It hurts. So much, maybe because what He was trying to tell me was so true.
But as God always is, He was faithful to me. That night when I could not sleep from all the raging thoughts in my head, and from the fumes that never are that almost snaked their way out of my nostrils, God gave me a choice. That choice was to love. That choice was to forgive. That choice was to look over the mistakes.
I made that choice.
And like magic, I felt so relieved, I think I never had so much peace in my heart before. My heart felt so light. There was no longer any burden inside me. The yoke that I was carrying was again easy and light.
And that was the moment I realized that I was exactly at the center of the will of God. I was where God wants me to be. I was doing the right thing- finally, after such a long delay.
And now I have my answer. There's no way I can obey God and keep my pride. There's no way I can sleep sound every night thinking about the wrongs other people did me.
It's so easy to hurt the people that we love, especially those people who care about us, who truly are concerned about us. But when we hurt them, we are at the same time doing the damage to ourselves, hurting ourselves in the process.
So the only logical thing to do is to get out of that corner and live. Forgive. Love.
That's what we all ought to do- we should love each other deeply because love covers over a multitude of sins.
Even Jesus did.
Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.
What made this so hard for me to do? When all along I knew this so well?
Was it my pride? Was it my selfishness?
Whatever my reasons had been, they could not justify the mistakes I made.
I knew that God wants me to understand, to forgive, to look over the wrongs of others, to be gracious and gentle. But what I did was the exact opposite. I made my ego priority over the people that I love and value- even to the point of ignoring their feelings and hurting them even more.
It was such a distressing state to be in- knowing that you are hurting someone so dear to you yet you're not willing to let up and let go.
But as always, God is faithful and just.
I was wrong. He rebuked me. Oh and I'm telling you, it's not very comfortable being rebuked by God. It hurts. So much, maybe because what He was trying to tell me was so true.
But as God always is, He was faithful to me. That night when I could not sleep from all the raging thoughts in my head, and from the fumes that never are that almost snaked their way out of my nostrils, God gave me a choice. That choice was to love. That choice was to forgive. That choice was to look over the mistakes.
I made that choice.
And like magic, I felt so relieved, I think I never had so much peace in my heart before. My heart felt so light. There was no longer any burden inside me. The yoke that I was carrying was again easy and light.
And that was the moment I realized that I was exactly at the center of the will of God. I was where God wants me to be. I was doing the right thing- finally, after such a long delay.
And now I have my answer. There's no way I can obey God and keep my pride. There's no way I can sleep sound every night thinking about the wrongs other people did me.
It's so easy to hurt the people that we love, especially those people who care about us, who truly are concerned about us. But when we hurt them, we are at the same time doing the damage to ourselves, hurting ourselves in the process.
So the only logical thing to do is to get out of that corner and live. Forgive. Love.
That's what we all ought to do- we should love each other deeply because love covers over a multitude of sins.
Even Jesus did.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Misssing Paul (2)
(The sun is up-up-up, Lindy-love)
Shut up, Paul, Lindsay snapped at the empty house. How many times had Paul waken her up with that line? A hundred times? A million? And it felt so different, so weird, that Paul wasn't there to sing her wake up-Lindsay-line to her. It was very weird indeed.
When her naked feet touched the cold wooden floor, after the cold had shocked her no more, her thoughts were on bacon and eggs. How the house had smelled so strongly of them in the morning and later with Paul's dark, brewed coffee. Later, because Paul preferred to make his own coffee. Though it made no sense to Lindsay. She could make coffee pretty well, as far as she was concerned.
(Not quite Lindy-love. You make the rest of the menu, I make the coffee. uh-huh?)
(Uh-huh, whatever you say Paul)
She didn't make breakfast today. Today was no bacon and eggs day. Today wasn't quite sunny enough. Her head still felt a little heavy and evrything around her was somewhat hazy. She yawned, her head falling back and her mouth gaping wide. Her arms were stretched upwards.
Then her cell phone rang.
Her arms were still in the air when her head turned to the side as she looked at the blnking phone, ringing as if with the sole purpose of breaking the silence. She picked it up. Paul calling, it read. Paul was calling. Her hand shot towards the phone, grabbing it with shocking speed.
"Paul?"
"Hey Lindy! Having bacon and eggs today?"
She didn't know what to say. "Uh, well, actually--"
"You didn't, did you?" There was a hint of a smile in his voice.
"Well, no. It 's your fault. I want you here."
There was a long pause. A pregnant pause, like he says. Though she never like describing pauses as pregnant.
" 'course you do, Lindy-love." He was almost laughing now.
Why did you say goodbye in your scheduler Paul? Was it just a whim? Were you playing games on me? Because I don't like gsmes like that. They're not funny at all.
Aloud, she sad: "And you don't?"
" 'Course I do. But Lindy, you've got to get used to not having me around. You--"
"What are you saying?" Cutting him short, not wanting him to say any more. "I don't have to get used to that Paul. I'll never get used to it, Paul. Stop saying th--"
"Hush Lindsay," Not Lind, Not Lindy-love, Not love. Lindsay. "Just hush for a while now, okay? Listen to me."
"No, I don't want to, Paul."
"You're gonna have to. Just listen to me now." His voice was calmer, softer. "Lindy..."
She sighed a sigh of relief tat he called her Lindy again.
"Fine... But Paul..."
"Lindy-love, I'm not coming back."
Not coming back? Paul? He's going to be away for good? Forever?
Lindsay was speechless. There was no word to suffice. She dropped the phone to the floor, with a sharp sound.
As if from faraway, Paul's voice came alive from the phone. "Lindy? You there Lindy?"
But she was drifting farther away. His voice was disappearing, swallowed by the silence, the unmerciful silence.
The morning then wallowed in the dark, until it was no more.
Shut up, Paul, Lindsay snapped at the empty house. How many times had Paul waken her up with that line? A hundred times? A million? And it felt so different, so weird, that Paul wasn't there to sing her wake up-Lindsay-line to her. It was very weird indeed.
When her naked feet touched the cold wooden floor, after the cold had shocked her no more, her thoughts were on bacon and eggs. How the house had smelled so strongly of them in the morning and later with Paul's dark, brewed coffee. Later, because Paul preferred to make his own coffee. Though it made no sense to Lindsay. She could make coffee pretty well, as far as she was concerned.
(Not quite Lindy-love. You make the rest of the menu, I make the coffee. uh-huh?)
(Uh-huh, whatever you say Paul)
She didn't make breakfast today. Today was no bacon and eggs day. Today wasn't quite sunny enough. Her head still felt a little heavy and evrything around her was somewhat hazy. She yawned, her head falling back and her mouth gaping wide. Her arms were stretched upwards.
Then her cell phone rang.
Her arms were still in the air when her head turned to the side as she looked at the blnking phone, ringing as if with the sole purpose of breaking the silence. She picked it up. Paul calling, it read. Paul was calling. Her hand shot towards the phone, grabbing it with shocking speed.
"Paul?"
"Hey Lindy! Having bacon and eggs today?"
She didn't know what to say. "Uh, well, actually--"
"You didn't, did you?" There was a hint of a smile in his voice.
"Well, no. It 's your fault. I want you here."
There was a long pause. A pregnant pause, like he says. Though she never like describing pauses as pregnant.
" 'course you do, Lindy-love." He was almost laughing now.
Why did you say goodbye in your scheduler Paul? Was it just a whim? Were you playing games on me? Because I don't like gsmes like that. They're not funny at all.
Aloud, she sad: "And you don't?"
" 'Course I do. But Lindy, you've got to get used to not having me around. You--"
"What are you saying?" Cutting him short, not wanting him to say any more. "I don't have to get used to that Paul. I'll never get used to it, Paul. Stop saying th--"
"Hush Lindsay," Not Lind, Not Lindy-love, Not love. Lindsay. "Just hush for a while now, okay? Listen to me."
"No, I don't want to, Paul."
"You're gonna have to. Just listen to me now." His voice was calmer, softer. "Lindy..."
She sighed a sigh of relief tat he called her Lindy again.
"Fine... But Paul..."
"Lindy-love, I'm not coming back."
Not coming back? Paul? He's going to be away for good? Forever?
Lindsay was speechless. There was no word to suffice. She dropped the phone to the floor, with a sharp sound.
As if from faraway, Paul's voice came alive from the phone. "Lindy? You there Lindy?"
But she was drifting farther away. His voice was disappearing, swallowed by the silence, the unmerciful silence.
The morning then wallowed in the dark, until it was no more.
Missing Paul
She rolled onto the left side, Paul's side, of the bed and frowned- even as she was deep in a dreamless sleep. The bed felt so huge and so vacant when Paul mwasn't there. There was no one snoring beside her and the room felt so incomplete, though she never liked his snores that much. But the silence was eerie it stung the drums in her ears. 'Paul,' she heard someone whisper in the deathly silence. Then she heard it again, in a whisper that was softer, more like a caress. she was starting to dream, she knew, and she was dreaming of Paul. Soon, he would pop into view wearing his old faded blue jeans and worn out black shirt with the word My Wife Doesn't know printed boldly in the front. She'd bought it for him as a joke and he'd laughed at it so hard she feared the words actually meant something. But he put her fears to rest when, not laughing anymore, he pulled her close and told her, "But you always know, love."
Yes, she always knows. She does. That's what he said.
But the cream-colored walls came into view instead, then the closet, then the vanity mirror, then their whole tidy bedroom (mostly because Paul insisted it to be that way). Still, there was no Paul. There were no faded jeans and black shirt. "Paul," she heard a whisper again, then realized that she was hearing her own voice, searching and unsure in the deafening quiet. She realized she wasn't dreaming. She was was wide awake in their bedroom that contained only her, cold and lonely that night. She realized she's been calling out to Paul so many times only to have the unmerciful silence reply. How she hated not having Paul around. It was almost like a crippling. She sat up on the bed, leaning on the pillow that was supposed to be cradling Paul's head. The lights were on- a bright contrast against how she felt. When Paul was around, the lights were always off at night. he never forgot to accomplish that chore. She looked around her, unsure of what she was looking for.
Then something caught her eye. It was Paul's scheduler, still looking new. Paul knew how to take care of his things.
(like they had life of their own, love)
Not really thinking about what she was doing, she reached out for the leather-covered notebook. There was his pen inserted inside it (how he loved his pens) and instantly, the scheduler opened where the pen was. She found herself staring at today's date, May 6. On the thin green-colored lines, her husband wrote: Goodbye, love. A shiver crawled up her spine. She closed the notebook in a snap, not wanting to see the strokes of the pen that wrote those words anymore. Since when did Paul say goodbye? No, not even when he left, walking towards his plane yesterday, all he said was 'Love you!" smiling despite himself. No, even his calls only ended with "talk to you later" or "see you." No, Paul never said goodbye. Because I'll be back, love, won't I? That's what he said. She pushed the scheduler away to the foot of the bed, as if it was hiding a hideous creature inside it, shaking the words off her head. No, but you'll be back, love, won't you?
But there was no one around to answer her.
Yes, she always knows. She does. That's what he said.
But the cream-colored walls came into view instead, then the closet, then the vanity mirror, then their whole tidy bedroom (mostly because Paul insisted it to be that way). Still, there was no Paul. There were no faded jeans and black shirt. "Paul," she heard a whisper again, then realized that she was hearing her own voice, searching and unsure in the deafening quiet. She realized she wasn't dreaming. She was was wide awake in their bedroom that contained only her, cold and lonely that night. She realized she's been calling out to Paul so many times only to have the unmerciful silence reply. How she hated not having Paul around. It was almost like a crippling. She sat up on the bed, leaning on the pillow that was supposed to be cradling Paul's head. The lights were on- a bright contrast against how she felt. When Paul was around, the lights were always off at night. he never forgot to accomplish that chore. She looked around her, unsure of what she was looking for.
Then something caught her eye. It was Paul's scheduler, still looking new. Paul knew how to take care of his things.
(like they had life of their own, love)
Not really thinking about what she was doing, she reached out for the leather-covered notebook. There was his pen inserted inside it (how he loved his pens) and instantly, the scheduler opened where the pen was. She found herself staring at today's date, May 6. On the thin green-colored lines, her husband wrote: Goodbye, love. A shiver crawled up her spine. She closed the notebook in a snap, not wanting to see the strokes of the pen that wrote those words anymore. Since when did Paul say goodbye? No, not even when he left, walking towards his plane yesterday, all he said was 'Love you!" smiling despite himself. No, even his calls only ended with "talk to you later" or "see you." No, Paul never said goodbye. Because I'll be back, love, won't I? That's what he said. She pushed the scheduler away to the foot of the bed, as if it was hiding a hideous creature inside it, shaking the words off her head. No, but you'll be back, love, won't you?
But there was no one around to answer her.
The Man with a Black Umbrella
She stood trapped under the roof of the old school building, fidgeting and shivering in the cold. Rain sprayed at her, but she remained at the edge of the stair, sheltered by the last stretch of roof, as if she could make the rain stop by staring at the skies. Please, please stop, she said under her breath again and again. She hugged a couple of books, bot thick and heavy, to her chest, regretting that she had gone to the library earlier. Her arms were starting to hurt. She glanced at her watch: 2:06. She was six minutes late from class. She fidgeted even more. Her next class, News Editing, was at Guy Hall which was quite a walk from where she was. And, she knew for sure, Mrs. Acedo would be giving a news quiz.
She looked at her watch again and was horrified to see it was already 2:15; the rain poured heavier than ever, she had no umbrella and she was stuck at Villareal Hall. She thought about dashing for it, but when she thought of herself soaked and dripping wet when she arrived at her classroom, she didn't bother. But now, that she's 20 minutes late, the notion seemed quite appealing. Five more minutes and I'll run for it, she thought to herself, fearful of having to actually do it. Then as if trying to prove what she was thinking, she went down the steps in quick jerky movements, raised the book over her head and started to run.
She was gaining momentum despite the huge drops of rain pounding on her skin, stinging her eyes, when someone bumped her- hard- and she almost landed on her buttocks. "I'm sorry," a tall guy muttered, holding her firmly by the elbow. She couldn't feel the rain anymore and realized that he held an umbrella above their heads. "It's okay," she muttered back, not even attempting to mask her irritation, shook her elbow free of his grasp and decided to move along.
"You headed for the next gate?" He asked, as he held her elbow again. "Guy Hall" was the only thing she managed to say, and then she was quiet, silenced by the faint hint of hope she was hearing in his voice- which was, by the way, a very low baritone. "Let me take you there." He did not even look at her to see if she would agree. He simply held her elbow and led her where she was going.
There was nothing to say on the way there, and not one of them attempted at making small talk. So they walked in silence, with only the sound of heavy rain drumming on his black umbrella to listen to.
When, finally, they reached Guy Hall, she rushed to the steep stairs that led to her classroom, forgetting for a moment that the man with the umbrella was at least entitled to a polite thank-you. Remembering, she looked back, discovered him still there, and waved to him.
"Thanks a lot," she said with a smile.
He only smiled in return, then walked away to listen to the rain drum on his umbrella again.
.........................
Coming out of the gate, he immediately went back to his car, where he'd been sitting about half an hour ago doing absolutely nothing but stare into Villareal Hall- stare at her in Villareal Hall. He was not always in the business of staring at people, but he saw her, right when he was about to start the engine, just one of the people stuck in the building because of the rain, and he couldn't help it. So he peeled his hand off the wheel and fumbled for his still wet umbrella, thinking she should have brought an umbrella with her. Hadn't she expected the rain? The clouds looked heavy this morning. Then he saw her run, two thick books held tightly above her head. He didn't have time to think. He opened his car door, holding the umbrella in his other hand and went to her, walking briskly as if also late for class. Then he bumped into her, it not being an accident at all. And, walking to Guy Hall like one with a mission accomplished, he smiled inside, listening to her heavy breathing and the plops her feet made as she walked on wet ground.
No, the rain drumming on his black umbrella wasn't at all the sound he was listening to.
He looked up at the dark skies. Can it rain again tomorrow?
She looked at her watch again and was horrified to see it was already 2:15; the rain poured heavier than ever, she had no umbrella and she was stuck at Villareal Hall. She thought about dashing for it, but when she thought of herself soaked and dripping wet when she arrived at her classroom, she didn't bother. But now, that she's 20 minutes late, the notion seemed quite appealing. Five more minutes and I'll run for it, she thought to herself, fearful of having to actually do it. Then as if trying to prove what she was thinking, she went down the steps in quick jerky movements, raised the book over her head and started to run.
She was gaining momentum despite the huge drops of rain pounding on her skin, stinging her eyes, when someone bumped her- hard- and she almost landed on her buttocks. "I'm sorry," a tall guy muttered, holding her firmly by the elbow. She couldn't feel the rain anymore and realized that he held an umbrella above their heads. "It's okay," she muttered back, not even attempting to mask her irritation, shook her elbow free of his grasp and decided to move along.
"You headed for the next gate?" He asked, as he held her elbow again. "Guy Hall" was the only thing she managed to say, and then she was quiet, silenced by the faint hint of hope she was hearing in his voice- which was, by the way, a very low baritone. "Let me take you there." He did not even look at her to see if she would agree. He simply held her elbow and led her where she was going.
There was nothing to say on the way there, and not one of them attempted at making small talk. So they walked in silence, with only the sound of heavy rain drumming on his black umbrella to listen to.
When, finally, they reached Guy Hall, she rushed to the steep stairs that led to her classroom, forgetting for a moment that the man with the umbrella was at least entitled to a polite thank-you. Remembering, she looked back, discovered him still there, and waved to him.
"Thanks a lot," she said with a smile.
He only smiled in return, then walked away to listen to the rain drum on his umbrella again.
.........................
Coming out of the gate, he immediately went back to his car, where he'd been sitting about half an hour ago doing absolutely nothing but stare into Villareal Hall- stare at her in Villareal Hall. He was not always in the business of staring at people, but he saw her, right when he was about to start the engine, just one of the people stuck in the building because of the rain, and he couldn't help it. So he peeled his hand off the wheel and fumbled for his still wet umbrella, thinking she should have brought an umbrella with her. Hadn't she expected the rain? The clouds looked heavy this morning. Then he saw her run, two thick books held tightly above her head. He didn't have time to think. He opened his car door, holding the umbrella in his other hand and went to her, walking briskly as if also late for class. Then he bumped into her, it not being an accident at all. And, walking to Guy Hall like one with a mission accomplished, he smiled inside, listening to her heavy breathing and the plops her feet made as she walked on wet ground.
No, the rain drumming on his black umbrella wasn't at all the sound he was listening to.
He looked up at the dark skies. Can it rain again tomorrow?
Choosing to Love
Everyday, it's choosing to love the people that God loves, that makes the world a bearable place to live in, knowing that there are also people (plenty of them, I'm sure) who go out of their way to choose to love me.
I believe with all my heart that love is not an emotion; because if that were the case, the God who created it is so shallow, so temporary and so irrelevant. But that is not the case.
The God who created love transcends time; He is everlasting. He is pro-forever. I believe that is even why He designed marriages to last until two people united as one have breathed their last- until what the world can grasp of forever expires.
Knowing this, I realize, that loving people is not based on how you feel for them- whether you get along with them fine or not, whether you understand them or not. Because love is a choice. Love is not an emotion. It is not a feeling.
When God ordained for Jesus to die on the cross for our sins, He decided to give up His son so that there would be atonement for sins once and for all. He decided to forsake Jesus, so that He could forgive us. There is no greater example, because God Himself is Love.
You see, even accepting God is a choice. He designed it that way. He gave man free will. We can decide for ourselves.
So when I start to feel like I don't want to care about this person anymore, when I feel like giving up because I just can't take the emotional chaos and all that, I go back to the cross (that's where we should all go home to, you know) and look at Jesus hanging in there. I start to think that God decided, and had it in his heart, to love me. And for that reason, Jesus died, and Jesus rose again.
And after that, I decide to love this person, this unlovable being common to each one of us, care for this person and still try to understand. Because even God cared to save me. Even God cared to do something about my hopelessness. So, who am I to not even try?
Everyday, it's going back to what God did for us, who we became the moment we understood that, and who our God is.
Everyday, it's choosing to love. Even though we don't feel like it.
I believe with all my heart that love is not an emotion; because if that were the case, the God who created it is so shallow, so temporary and so irrelevant. But that is not the case.
The God who created love transcends time; He is everlasting. He is pro-forever. I believe that is even why He designed marriages to last until two people united as one have breathed their last- until what the world can grasp of forever expires.
Knowing this, I realize, that loving people is not based on how you feel for them- whether you get along with them fine or not, whether you understand them or not. Because love is a choice. Love is not an emotion. It is not a feeling.
When God ordained for Jesus to die on the cross for our sins, He decided to give up His son so that there would be atonement for sins once and for all. He decided to forsake Jesus, so that He could forgive us. There is no greater example, because God Himself is Love.
You see, even accepting God is a choice. He designed it that way. He gave man free will. We can decide for ourselves.
So when I start to feel like I don't want to care about this person anymore, when I feel like giving up because I just can't take the emotional chaos and all that, I go back to the cross (that's where we should all go home to, you know) and look at Jesus hanging in there. I start to think that God decided, and had it in his heart, to love me. And for that reason, Jesus died, and Jesus rose again.
And after that, I decide to love this person, this unlovable being common to each one of us, care for this person and still try to understand. Because even God cared to save me. Even God cared to do something about my hopelessness. So, who am I to not even try?
Everyday, it's going back to what God did for us, who we became the moment we understood that, and who our God is.
Everyday, it's choosing to love. Even though we don't feel like it.
The Way to Let Go
It's in my head, it's in my heart and more often than not, it feels so right- like it's meant to stay here with me forever. But no, stepping back a little and looking at myself pondering over things I should least be concerned about, I realize that I am making a mistake. I have to let it go.
Then, just as a dear friend of mine asked me a while ago, I asked myself: How do I let go?
Let us refresh ourselves with what God says. Let's try to remember what we've known for so long: If God is not Lord of all, He is not Lord at all. God wants everything.
But as I look at myself and try, pitifully, to evaluate, there's absolutely no doubt that there's still this one thing I haven't laid down on the feet of Jesus. It's tugging at my emotions, playing with my heart. I don't want it to be there, but it is, slowly gaining strength and making itself a stronghold. Even when I know this though, it still feels more comfortable to just let it take hold of me, to let it make a home in my heart. That's when I started be blinded that the seat in my heart that was supposed to be God's and His alone, is being shared by another undeserving creature, who in comparison to God is really just a bag of dust.
But woefully, I silently cry out, 'Can't I just let it stay there?' That's when I started to be really stupid. All the daily devotions and dialogues with God were forgotten and I chose to give my heart free rein. Oh boy, does it feel so right indeed! I'm sure a lot of people can agree with me in this. But God says, the heart is deceitful above all things. How true! So, after several days of thinking things over ( and finally deciding to tell a trusted friend about this) I discovered that I was being deceived; my heart was being fooled.
So now, I stand up, deciding in my heart that this wouldn't get the better of me. I am determined to make God Lord of everything in my life. So finally, I have the answer to my question. I am letting this go by taking hold of God. There's no better way. I'm letting this go by giving the throne back, entirely, to God, pushing away whatever had hindered Him from having it whole.
In practical terms, I'm removing the focus on the distraction and replacing the focus on God.
Yes, the distraction is still very much present (alive and kicking) and it still has this annoying effect on me. But whatever it takes, I'm going to shake it off and look to God. I value God more than anything in this world, love Him more than any sweet human gesture and treasure Him more than any heart-melting smile.
Still the bottom line remains this: loving God with all my heart, mind, soul and strength. Right now, with that as my priority, I have, officially, no time nor energy for anything else.
Then, just as a dear friend of mine asked me a while ago, I asked myself: How do I let go?
Let us refresh ourselves with what God says. Let's try to remember what we've known for so long: If God is not Lord of all, He is not Lord at all. God wants everything.
But as I look at myself and try, pitifully, to evaluate, there's absolutely no doubt that there's still this one thing I haven't laid down on the feet of Jesus. It's tugging at my emotions, playing with my heart. I don't want it to be there, but it is, slowly gaining strength and making itself a stronghold. Even when I know this though, it still feels more comfortable to just let it take hold of me, to let it make a home in my heart. That's when I started be blinded that the seat in my heart that was supposed to be God's and His alone, is being shared by another undeserving creature, who in comparison to God is really just a bag of dust.
But woefully, I silently cry out, 'Can't I just let it stay there?' That's when I started to be really stupid. All the daily devotions and dialogues with God were forgotten and I chose to give my heart free rein. Oh boy, does it feel so right indeed! I'm sure a lot of people can agree with me in this. But God says, the heart is deceitful above all things. How true! So, after several days of thinking things over ( and finally deciding to tell a trusted friend about this) I discovered that I was being deceived; my heart was being fooled.
So now, I stand up, deciding in my heart that this wouldn't get the better of me. I am determined to make God Lord of everything in my life. So finally, I have the answer to my question. I am letting this go by taking hold of God. There's no better way. I'm letting this go by giving the throne back, entirely, to God, pushing away whatever had hindered Him from having it whole.
In practical terms, I'm removing the focus on the distraction and replacing the focus on God.
Yes, the distraction is still very much present (alive and kicking) and it still has this annoying effect on me. But whatever it takes, I'm going to shake it off and look to God. I value God more than anything in this world, love Him more than any sweet human gesture and treasure Him more than any heart-melting smile.
Still the bottom line remains this: loving God with all my heart, mind, soul and strength. Right now, with that as my priority, I have, officially, no time nor energy for anything else.
On Forgiveness
When you feel so mad about something (or someone for that matter), shut your mouth, run to your room, lock yourself in and think. Stop for a while and refuse to give free rein to your emotions. They can feel like a very strong tide rushing about but I tell it you, it can be stopped. Go away from the source of that anger inside you and breath in, then breathe out (of course i don't have to tell you that you should keep doing this hehe).
When you're mad, you see, you feel like your emotions, and your opinions are the most correct things in the world. It feels so right to let them out. But the truth is, it's not. Because if you do, you'll only regret it later... after you've already hurt someone's feelings or ruined a relationship. It will be harder if you choose to follow your heart. When things like this happens, IT IS WISER to follow your mind.
If you want to, cry your frustrations out. Or just be still and stare at the ceiling. What I do is I talk to God. I tell him how mad I am. I tell him everything there is to tell about what's happening to me. Then, I pray, and ask God for wisdom. You can do that too. Pray, and let God know that you don't want to be consumed by what you're feeling.
When I did that last night, God spoke to me and revealed something to me I never really thought of before.
This is what I came to realize:
Forgiveness becomes so easy when you realize that you love God more than you want to keep your pride, more than your hurt and anger. It becomes easy when you remember that you also are no better but are only one who has been forgiven.
When you really love God and if the desire of your heart is really to honor him, there is no emotion so great that will stop you from doing so.
When you're mad, you see, you feel like your emotions, and your opinions are the most correct things in the world. It feels so right to let them out. But the truth is, it's not. Because if you do, you'll only regret it later... after you've already hurt someone's feelings or ruined a relationship. It will be harder if you choose to follow your heart. When things like this happens, IT IS WISER to follow your mind.
If you want to, cry your frustrations out. Or just be still and stare at the ceiling. What I do is I talk to God. I tell him how mad I am. I tell him everything there is to tell about what's happening to me. Then, I pray, and ask God for wisdom. You can do that too. Pray, and let God know that you don't want to be consumed by what you're feeling.
When I did that last night, God spoke to me and revealed something to me I never really thought of before.
This is what I came to realize:
Forgiveness becomes so easy when you realize that you love God more than you want to keep your pride, more than your hurt and anger. It becomes easy when you remember that you also are no better but are only one who has been forgiven.
When you really love God and if the desire of your heart is really to honor him, there is no emotion so great that will stop you from doing so.
Why You?
I wake up this morning
I mean this afternoon
Wanting to get up out of bed.
But oh, not being able.
I stare at the ceiling
And I just remember you.
Oh boy, out of the blue.
The weirdest memory-
The memory of you.
I shake my head.
Say no, oh no.
What's gotten into me?
Why would I think of you?
I jump out of bed and sing.
Start my day with melodies.
So much to do.
Still thinking of you.
Gosh, why you?
Of all the other people
I find appealing in this world,
Why is my mind on you? I wonder.
I can't think of a reason.
Only that things happen.
Like the sun just rises.
In the morning it does.
Then the moon at night.
How I wish I wouldn't think of you-
Why you?
After all such time?
The days that passed?
I hate it.
So much, I hate it.
I'm gonna stop thinking of you.
It's not doing me good.
Nope, not at all.
So bye bye love.
Bye bye bittersweet
Rough edges around you.
Imperfect little huge smile.
Gosh, I'm still thinking.
Of you, still thinking.
Okay, I'm shutting up.
No more words.
No, no more.
Not even one.
I'm shutting up now.
I'm shutting up.
I mean this afternoon
Wanting to get up out of bed.
But oh, not being able.
I stare at the ceiling
And I just remember you.
Oh boy, out of the blue.
The weirdest memory-
The memory of you.
I shake my head.
Say no, oh no.
What's gotten into me?
Why would I think of you?
I jump out of bed and sing.
Start my day with melodies.
So much to do.
Still thinking of you.
Gosh, why you?
Of all the other people
I find appealing in this world,
Why is my mind on you? I wonder.
I can't think of a reason.
Only that things happen.
Like the sun just rises.
In the morning it does.
Then the moon at night.
How I wish I wouldn't think of you-
Why you?
After all such time?
The days that passed?
I hate it.
So much, I hate it.
I'm gonna stop thinking of you.
It's not doing me good.
Nope, not at all.
So bye bye love.
Bye bye bittersweet
Rough edges around you.
Imperfect little huge smile.
Gosh, I'm still thinking.
Of you, still thinking.
Okay, I'm shutting up.
No more words.
No, no more.
Not even one.
I'm shutting up now.
I'm shutting up.
Real Women Don't Like Cheap Guys
Oh they're everywhere- you wouldn't have any difficulty spotting them at all. In as much as they seem "cute" to the world around them, when you'd dig down deeper into them, you'd find your voice resonating, echoing loudly back and forth in the empty cave that is their minds and hearts.
Now, how do we come to recognize one? First, you'd know these guys by their lack of wisdom. As much as they seem to know "everything," they don't apply their knowledge often enough. Their tongues are loose and their favorite sport is playing around with unsuspecting girls' hearts. As rude as it sounds, this much is true. Believe me, I've encountered far too many like them. They go about saying words that are supposed to hold a deeper meaning, as if those words are just common punctuation marks. Their mouths endlessly flatter, and their actions are done without much thought beforehand. Their arms are soon to drape around a woman's shoulders and their lips open and close to spew empty endearments.
These guys also have no convictions. Usually, they settle for what they feel is right. Feelings play a very significant role in their lives in that they follow what they feel more often than they do not. You see, they seem to have this false mindset that men do not have the capability to control. They think getting drunk is cool and being swarmed by bikini-clad women is practically heaven on earth. I don't have to emphasize this, but yes, this is very, very cheap.
These guys are also allergic to commitments. In their hearts, they prefer the enjoyment of the moment, unmindful of what becomes tomorrow. They like the thought of having a girlfriend ( or wife for that matter) but they think keeping a relationship is far too tedious. So, they settle for flings, or relationships as hazy as the sight of one who's just woken up- what we like to call a mutual understanding. You see, they obviously like girls, the idea of girls and girls themselves, but he responsibility tied to being with one is way above their heads. If they do come into relationship, chances are that they're going to get tired pretty soon and run off to prey on someone else.
Most of all, these guys don't read their Bibles. They may keep their own Bibles at home but chances are that they've never opened them at all or have read them from time to time but haven't absorbed anything. Anyone who has not absorbed the word of God is on the dark; he's clueless and lost. So, if he claims to be a Christian yet his life is not aligned to what he knows is the will of God, there's something very wrong with him. You see when he claims to love God yet not put much value on God's word, and doesn't put much effort on doing what it says, he's a major problem.
To sum it up, he's all in all, a lie.
I have to say that this blog is not meant to condemn any male who happened to be reading, but to challenge men to act as men, to go up a level higher than their usual brittle standards, and to refuse to be ones who can be called cheap.
On the other hand, this blog can also be reversed to relate to females who are reading. This is also to tell you girls that you should know better than swooning over those cheap ones!
D.G.
Now, how do we come to recognize one? First, you'd know these guys by their lack of wisdom. As much as they seem to know "everything," they don't apply their knowledge often enough. Their tongues are loose and their favorite sport is playing around with unsuspecting girls' hearts. As rude as it sounds, this much is true. Believe me, I've encountered far too many like them. They go about saying words that are supposed to hold a deeper meaning, as if those words are just common punctuation marks. Their mouths endlessly flatter, and their actions are done without much thought beforehand. Their arms are soon to drape around a woman's shoulders and their lips open and close to spew empty endearments.
These guys also have no convictions. Usually, they settle for what they feel is right. Feelings play a very significant role in their lives in that they follow what they feel more often than they do not. You see, they seem to have this false mindset that men do not have the capability to control. They think getting drunk is cool and being swarmed by bikini-clad women is practically heaven on earth. I don't have to emphasize this, but yes, this is very, very cheap.
These guys are also allergic to commitments. In their hearts, they prefer the enjoyment of the moment, unmindful of what becomes tomorrow. They like the thought of having a girlfriend ( or wife for that matter) but they think keeping a relationship is far too tedious. So, they settle for flings, or relationships as hazy as the sight of one who's just woken up- what we like to call a mutual understanding. You see, they obviously like girls, the idea of girls and girls themselves, but he responsibility tied to being with one is way above their heads. If they do come into relationship, chances are that they're going to get tired pretty soon and run off to prey on someone else.
Most of all, these guys don't read their Bibles. They may keep their own Bibles at home but chances are that they've never opened them at all or have read them from time to time but haven't absorbed anything. Anyone who has not absorbed the word of God is on the dark; he's clueless and lost. So, if he claims to be a Christian yet his life is not aligned to what he knows is the will of God, there's something very wrong with him. You see when he claims to love God yet not put much value on God's word, and doesn't put much effort on doing what it says, he's a major problem.
To sum it up, he's all in all, a lie.
I have to say that this blog is not meant to condemn any male who happened to be reading, but to challenge men to act as men, to go up a level higher than their usual brittle standards, and to refuse to be ones who can be called cheap.
On the other hand, this blog can also be reversed to relate to females who are reading. This is also to tell you girls that you should know better than swooning over those cheap ones!
D.G.
To Lysander
Wherefore art thou dearest Lysander?
Mine eyes drink of thine fair form
but pray do tell dear Lysander
How thou art far- how mine heart tore
By Hermia art thou, bittersweet love?
Is thine one heart for Hermia set apart?
Wilt not thine heart seek mine chaste affection?
Hath thou found comfort in Hermia’s beauteous fashion?
Oh how deaf thou art Lysander!
And how greatly in seeing doth thou falter
Doth not mine heart cry loud enough Lysander?
For thine sight mine tears cannot fall any faster
In yerterdays and morrows I for so long cry
But thou, Lysander, hath not even a sigh
Oh I dont blame thee and thine jurisdiction
For thine heart and mine hath no perfection
And thine heart hath blindeth thee
But woe to me, Oh Lysander dear
For thine love is not for me
Go run to thine love- thine Hermia
For whence doth thine happiness spring but in Hermia?
Go sing of thine love and all of me forget
For rain on your sunshine mine sorrows I shalt not let
But do not look at me then, fair Lysander
For mine sorrows art yet to come thither
Mine tears art for mine eyes only to behold
So set thine sight in thine love’s threshold
Oh this pain Lysander!
Canst kill its host but is there any better
Than mine love for thee to die?
Oh Lysander be away from me and out of sight
For mine love for thee I dearly pray to die…
may 11, 2008
Duet
December 9th, 2008
I sing to you Lord
Forever I sing of how much I love You
Most awesome are You
Great is the extent of Your love
Should I seek to measure it, I wouldn’t be able
Should I dare fathom, I’d never fully understand
For, my King, what do You see in me?
Am I not but a filthy rag, worthy of the fire,
Deserving Your wrath?
Why do You love me, how come You always do?
Look at me Lord, and tell me what You see
Then would You still want any part in me?
I pour out all that I am to You
I needn’t spare any for myself
I will sing of Your love
Of Your never-ending compassion
And Your everlasting mercy
To You none shall ever compare
You are beautiful Lord, so much more beautiful
I’m Yours and You’re mine
To you I give myself
I live because of You
You are my purpose, my dream, my prize, my eternity
I live for You; You are my life
And because of Your goodness
I worry no more, for what good will it ever do me?
Never will sorrow so strongly overwhelm
Anger shall lose its power
And death shall solicit no more fear
Anxiousness will have no more part in me
Loneliness shall lose its grip
The enemy has been defeated
No longer shall it ever ensnare
For in Heaven and on earth, you have conquered
You have built Yourself as an everlasting fortress
In Your glory, I forever take refuge
Forever I am free
No longer can anything take hold of me
My King, I share in Your victory
When with the triumph of Your cry You sealed eternity
The Savior’s task is done
“It is finished!”
The Heavens smile upon You
And Your glory, Your children shall forever reflect
All that You ask of me Lord is to believe
And gladly I cater to Your request
For I believed and my eyes were opened
No longer am I blind
To the perishing Your word is but folly
To them You’re but a state of mind
But how Lord, can one not see You in the sky?
Your grandeur in a moonlit night?
How can one not hear You in the songs of Your creation-
The apples Of Your eye?
How can one not behold You in the strength of full surrender?
In the desperation of silent cries?
How can one not perceive You in the thunder of Your wrath?
That even in anger, good Lord, You seek only to love?
How can one be so blind as not to see,
So deaf as not to hear
So hardened as not to feel
The depth of Your love,
Your everlasting love?
When in Your wounds You cried out, ‘Be healed!’
In your sacrifice You whispered, ‘You are loved’
And in Your death You commanded, ‘Live!’?
I sing of You Lord forever
Let the whole world sing along with me.
c:
Song of a Broken Heart
May 12th, 2008
Hear my heart Lord it’s crying
See the tears that keep falling from my eyes
Ease the pain Lord that’s hiding
In my heart Lord, is this how i die?
Heal in me Lord this hurting
Hold me close to Your loving arms and say
That with me You’ll always stay
And hear me when I say
When will this hurting end?
And all these tears stop falling?
Coz I’ve tired my eyes
Oh I’ve tired my eyes
Just to find
That it’s not enough to cry
Oh it’s not enough to cry
No it’s never enough to cry
Coz after I’ve closed my eyes
He’s still there
Holding on to his guitar
And he doesn't care
Even if I was so far
Oh Lord stop making me care
Coz for too many times
I’ve defined
How it’s never enough to cry
More than enough Lord I’ve been trying
Given up Lord this feeling to Your light
But how Lord does it keep coming
Back to this healing heart of mine?
Oh Lord I want to stop crying
For this one thing I’ve been broken far too much
I’ve learned Lord just how crying
Can’t ease this burden in my heart
Oh it’s not enough to cry
Not it’s never enough to cry
So after I’ve wiped my eyes
Been done with my fake smiles
He won’t be there
In my heart
He’d only be holding his guitar
And I won’t again care
If from me he was so far
So Lord stop making me care
Coz for too many times
I’ve defined
How it’s never enough to cry… 
This Silly Little Smile
i'd been smiling too much these days
perhaps too much
to do my health good
coz once it fades
i know it'll go in a breath
once gone
forever lost
this silly, silly little smile
this certain particular bend
that curves the lips
that shapes the eyes
carves them way
way different than others
one look and you'd know
what it tries to say
though it tries to hide
maybe keep it inside
but no, it wouldn't be a secret
a glance and it's already out
for people to see
to think deep
and wonder
'who could it be?'
but people
they don't always think
the right questions in their heads
so their pondering can be
rather far fetched
but oh of course, yes
people can also think right
the right questions in their heads
though they may not
always verbalize
but who's to say
what this smile means
it's for me to interpret
for me to know the meaning
the way poets are left to smile
at readers who so hard try
to decode the thoughts in their blabbering
words pregnant with something
that everyone wants unhidden
coz this smile is bound to fade i know
how many smiles like this
have i smiled before?
and what did i in the end discover?
but that it dies out
in time it does
until one
that fateful one
comes its way
until it finds me
unknowing of its presence
until then i'll keep to myself
until this silly, silly
little smile fades.
why, i'm slowly feeling it wane...
perhaps too much
to do my health good
coz once it fades
i know it'll go in a breath
once gone
forever lost
this silly, silly little smile
this certain particular bend
that curves the lips
that shapes the eyes
carves them way
way different than others
one look and you'd know
what it tries to say
though it tries to hide
maybe keep it inside
but no, it wouldn't be a secret
a glance and it's already out
for people to see
to think deep
and wonder
'who could it be?'
but people
they don't always think
the right questions in their heads
so their pondering can be
rather far fetched
but oh of course, yes
people can also think right
the right questions in their heads
though they may not
always verbalize
but who's to say
what this smile means
it's for me to interpret
for me to know the meaning
the way poets are left to smile
at readers who so hard try
to decode the thoughts in their blabbering
words pregnant with something
that everyone wants unhidden
coz this smile is bound to fade i know
how many smiles like this
have i smiled before?
and what did i in the end discover?
but that it dies out
in time it does
until one
that fateful one
comes its way
until it finds me
unknowing of its presence
until then i'll keep to myself
until this silly, silly
little smile fades.
why, i'm slowly feeling it wane...
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Hush Now, Hush
So hush now,
The world's still turning
You'll see
It won't be too hard
When the sun comes up
Bright when it's shining
So why all the fuss
Your brows come greeting
Each other in the shadows
Smile now
Come on and smile
You'll see it ain't too bad
I'll be here
You won't be needing
To hide beneath your
Greeting brows
Hush now
Come on and hush
Sweet Little Dark Side
Harsh Tender Rough Edges
Soft Little Loud Sound
Hiding Neath Red Swollen Eyes
Rested Tired Round Head
Quiet Shouting Whisper
Inside My Outside Heart
So hush now, hush
Just hush now, hush
No use speaking
No use speaking
No use speaking
So hush now, hush
We'll forget about it later
We'll talk about it later
But now hush
Hush now, hush
The world's still turning
You'll see
It won't be too hard
When the sun comes up
Bright when it's shining
So why all the fuss
Your brows come greeting
Each other in the shadows
Smile now
Come on and smile
You'll see it ain't too bad
I'll be here
You won't be needing
To hide beneath your
Greeting brows
Hush now
Come on and hush
Sweet Little Dark Side
Harsh Tender Rough Edges
Soft Little Loud Sound
Hiding Neath Red Swollen Eyes
Rested Tired Round Head
Quiet Shouting Whisper
Inside My Outside Heart
So hush now, hush
Just hush now, hush
No use speaking
No use speaking
No use speaking
So hush now, hush
We'll forget about it later
We'll talk about it later
But now hush
Hush now, hush
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