The Year in Blog Quotes

It's just not possible---that she'll die because of her lung irritations. But, yes, she is dying. And so am I. And so are you. We start to die the moment we are born.
-– January 23; When Nellie was sick and in her “Am I going to die?” mode

The Lord has taken a lot away from me this year (my days are now measured in school years)---my dreams, my comforts, even my friends. It’s been a long, painful process, this sanctification thing He has going on in me. And while people may perceive otherwise, I do not welcome this intrusion into my life. It is no happy party.
-- February 9; a depressed non-major

Kuya Butch got excited. “Why not a dance ministry Kristina?”
-– February 12; God’s answer to my prayer for another venue of service in the church.

I know the Ephesians 5:22-33 lines very well, thank you very much and need no reminding about God's principles for a Christian wife and Christian husband. We, as women, do want to please and help and love our future husbands by cooking for them. But... I wish our eligibility for marriage does not rest on that criterion (and that it wouldn't be one of the top criteria)… I do seem to recall that God made woman to be a help meet not help mate. There is more to a wife than the cooking and cleaning.
-– February 25; my reaction to a discussion on marriage with Nellie, Carlo, and Aldous.

I really don’t understand a lot of how this whole Christian spirituality thing works. The little I know of God and His whole plan, I have to cling to because there is nothing else to cling to. And so I am going to fling myself at the feet of God. I’m going to grab onto any piece of His garment with hands, feet, teeth, whatever. I’m going to hang on like a mad man to Him even during the times when I feel like I could just let go. I’m going to go after Him like crazy. I have seen what I am capable of and I just know that as much as one part of me will think that I am perfectly capable of controlling and directing my life, I desperately need Him. I have to stick with the one Being in this universe who really knows how I tick and what I’m supposed to do. Hey, He came up with the entire idea of me right? Therefore, He has got a plan for me.
-- March 16

Mikhael graduated from high school last Saturday. Was not around but, awww, my widdle brother is now off to college. Seems like just a month ago that I dropped him when he peed on me and that resulted in him hitting his head on something hard.
-- March 22

Some people have said that I should be thankful that my problems are limited only to my academic sphere. What they don’t understand is that my academic sphere is what makes up most of my life.
-– March 29

“Me and Gillian are college scholars!!!”
-- April 27

I actually get jealous sometimes. When that happens, I go bash my head on the wall to give me something else other than my love life to whine over. Head hurts a lot these days.
-– April 27; A message to my best friend after a discussion on her rather coloful love life. Mine has been drab for years.

I did not just start a Bible study on suicide. At the time the thought crossed my mind, I was seriously contemplating to commit suicide… I confess that I was very angry, maybe the right word is indignant, to find that most people thought that a Christian would fail at committing suicide. The thought had passed my mind to prove them wrong. The premise of this argument is that most suicides are born out of hopelessness and a Christian would not be in this position since we have a hope in Christ. I don’t think so. Christians, as much as we have hope in Christ, are still human. We still get depressed, we can get sad, and we can find ourselves feeling hopeless. In other words, we still bleed. And bleed we do sometimes… I am depressed and very worried about what is going to happen this week. And so I pray for grace and strength.
-– Mar 13, Written as part of the Finale to the Suicide Diaries, a project I undertook a week before the announcement of shiftees to the Statistics program.

My classmate sent another message saying “Your name, Kristina H. Mendoza, is on the list!!!” Made a beeline for the Office of the College Secretary and saw my name on the list of accepted shiftees and transferees. Stared at paper. Still couldn’t believe it.
-– May 16; on getting accepted into the BS Statistics program

Wanting to be excellent in your academics has a price just like wanting to have fun. When you decide to be strive to excellence, accept the fact that your social life will not be as exciting as most people. Don’t go complaining about how boring your life is.
--May 17

God has this crazy (crazy good) plan and has told us to go out to the nations and make disciples. On my own, I just can't do that nor can I really catch that vision. It just kinda blows me away. But church is a place where I can go to be a part of that vision, this outrageous seemingly impossible mission and do my part. Most of the time, I don't care for much beyond myself and church is where I am reminded that God intended me to care for others too.
-– May 22

Omar got kicked out of the dorm and I’m actually very proud of him.
— May 26

I'm a little frustrated with my quiet times. When I read my Bible, there's always a sentence someplace that strikes me and makes me pause a moment and for this event I am thankful. But when I try to "unpack" the stuff, I don't get anywhere. And so it is frustrating when I know I won't be able to answer it, and I'll just have to do more staring at the blackboard i.e. meditating on His Word and bringing it to the light of Christ. These spiritual disciplines truly go against the grain of my flesh.
— June 14

I love my new major. Honestly, I wonder where my dream of 18 years went all of a sudden---I'm talking about my dream of becoming a doctor---and then I realize it's still with me, in here somewhere. I guess I just took a different route to that career or I can find other ways of satisfying the desire to heal and care that is inherent in me.
-- June 17

The typhoon that’s blazing(?) its way across Luzon swerved clear of Quezon City so classes weren’t suspended today. God is making it quite clear to me that there is no escape from my classes. I hear You Father, I hear You good.
—July 5

And when you talk to any ordinary citizen trying to make ends meet in our poor country, they’re fed up of all this. So am I. So is everyone else, I think. You’d think this was all the buzz in our classrooms and dorm halls. But other than frowns, we let it drop. We want to move on. We’re too busy trying to figure out where to get the money to pay for our lodging, about our exams, about our tired parents who no longer care for this country and want their children to be out of it as soon as possible. I regret to say that the possibility of me saying these words that my mother dreads to hear from me is getting smaller by the day: “Mom, I looove the Philippines. I believe it will get better. I want to stay here and serve our nation.” You may want to snob me the next time you see me. Trust me, I've suffered for my apparent lack of nationalism too much to bleed this time.
—July 5; my thoughts on the “Hello Garci” controversy.

Comparing Kristina circa 2001 and Kristina today and I don't come up with much of an inner difference. I may know more but I certainly am not more loving/sensitive/compassionate/thoughtful. Am I becoming more like Christ or just another scribe who knows the scrolls and am I missing on the real thing?
--July 6

Kapag may sunog, gayahin natin si Ate Krissy: Magdala ng Safeguard!
-–July 18; I quoted Yam. This was her response to me bringing Safeguard with me in the mad rush to evacuate the dorm because of a fire nearby.

So has it been a month? I'm almost timid. I feel like an intruder stalking your hotel room. But that's silly. You know all my thoughts. Actually, the scenario is more like You standing in the door frame, looking at me and waiting for this poor, broken daughter of yours to step inside. We look insane. No actually, I look insane. God? I've missed You. Um, lots has been going on.
-– August 4

My major exam results are to die for and by that I mean “They’re so low, I’d like to kill myself.”
— August 6

I talked to some close friends last night about how I wasn't on speaking terms with the omnipresent God of the universe and why it didn't seem right to show up and intercede when I'm in such a state. All of them said, "Well, go have your quiet time and fix whatever's going wrong." I could have screamed at every one of them. It's just that I'm not into the whole screaming at people thing.
—August 23

It makes me wonder what would happen if I could truly understand and accept God’s love and forgiveness, if the truth of His unchanging love would indeed penetrate and cut through my pride, self-pity, guilt and fear. I actually can’t imagine such a state, me being so used to having those companions around. But I guess it would be great. I guess that would be very much like heaven.
—August 25

Speaking of splits, I was able to do a full front split on my left last night!!!
—August 27; It took almost a year of stretching to get down into it. And it still takes an hour of warm-up.

I have this love-hate relationship with striving. I love it because it makes me feel like I might actually be going somewhere with it and that I might actually be accomplishing what I ought to by it. At the same time, I know I can't do it on my own and I hate the weariness that's the major side-effect of trying to speed things up in your spiritual growth by using yourself as a catalyst.
—September 5

The sin I had clung to now seems easier to turn away from. I actually found myself walking away from another oppurtunity at temporary pleasures. That made me go "Whoa!" Humbled me a lot because that was just really His doing. I've been sleeping better since Sunday night. Not earlier. But better.
-–September 6

"I have spent half of my life without you." And that I said to a plate of Palabok, a dish I wasn't acquianted with until I was 11 years old.Now take that into consideration and try to imagine just what I'd say when I finally talk to the man Gods intends for me. Dizzying implications, I know.
--September 11

You fall in love with it and you dance and the pain is just a part of this whole thing that you fall in love with.
--September 17; a defense of my love for the painful dance of ballet

Dare I say… Sex, love, romance in ways we wouldn’t have them are always almost in programs on TV. It’s the way the world is, it’s the way most women think, it’s the way we (I?) wish my friendships were. Friends had them. Desperate Housewives have them. Ally Mcbeal had them. Bridget Jones, Jerry Maguire, Divine Secrets…etc. Let’s just say, I don’t expect it to be minus all that. I just deal with it. It may just be the irritation speaking. That and probably a lot of rationalization.
-–September 19; a defense of my viewing choices

I'm going to fail my Stat 131 unless by some sheer miraculous force.
—October 9

I passed!!!I passed my Statistics 131!
-–October 27; This meant I’ll be of senior standing next year

About the choreography, I'm dead meat. I am now back to being the clueless, worthless, choreography-less dance ministry head that I was two months ago. Now that the pressure is truly on, I'm stuck on the second stanza with no steps whatsoever popping up in my mind. I'm praying that a teacher from ballet school would be willing to choreo for free, then teach me the whole thing in a under two weeks (for free!) so I can teach it to the rest of the team and we can all practice it before the cantata. Which is to say, I am praying for a miracle.
--November 2; on the cantata dances

Teacher Mylene has permitted me to get pointe shoes!!! I'm going to start dancing on pointe!!! Of course, where I'll get the P3000 is unknown but I think that's easier to solve than the permit, right?
--November 21

The Cantata is tomorrow. The dances are fine. I've been worrying (not to mention aching and not sleeping and not eating) the whole week but just this night, I am at peace. Honestly, I don't really care if we don't get it perfect tomorrow. I don't think that's the point anymore. I mean, hey, I'd love to have a performance where we all remember the steps, we're all syncronized, etc. But in the end, I just want to know that I, we have pleased God. And I pray that all of us, in a week of practice and cramming, would have known God in a fresh, new way.
--December 3; after the night’s practice

As we made our exit after our final dance this evening, I found myself utterly overwhelmed. I could not help but weep at the Lord’s graciousness, beauty, and love. I am so unworthy and yet this! I come wanting to see His face and He meets me! I look in the mirror and see a no one and yet He tells me I am His very image. I dance for Him and He chooses the active role of dancing with me and not just watching me. I am nothing and yet He calls me beloved! Surely, all the dead toenails, aching muscles, dance mistakes, applause, cheer and comments, ragged nights and fuzzy mornings, rebukes from leaders, the fact that The Guy wasn’t there, praises from superiors, hugs, handshakes, beautiful costumes and renown CANNOT compare to HIM!
—December 4; after the cantata

I am thankful for a renewed sense of hunger to know God. I count it an early Christmas gift. For so long, I have been content with where I am with my Lord, refusing to move on. I stubbornly held my ground not wanting Jesus to say “Mine!” to any more of me. “I have to have something of my own!” I yelled at Him. In the end, I was losing out on precious moments with my Lord because I wanted to save myself.
--December 8

It's not fair that the world can easily delimit the population from which to sample my possible crushes by considering only two questions: (1) Who are the men older or as old as Ate Krissy and (2) Who are guys around her that are taller than her? I don't understand why they're interested in the first place. I'm a bore in that part of my life.
--December 15

My body is God’s temple. More than fleeing from sexual immortality, I have to keep it fit. It’s what I have to move in and serve God in while I’m here on Earth. It is His instrument. I must take care of it. Hehe...Yeah, it took me a while to reallly listen to this.
—December 22

All in all, it's been a great year. I expect no less of the coming year. Glory to God.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called

Wonderful Counselor,

Mighty God,

Everlasting Father,

Prince of Peace.

- Isaiah 9:6

Tears are falling, hearts are breaking

How we need to hear from God

You've been promised, we've been waiting

Welcome Holy Child

Welcome Holy Child

Hope that you don't mind our manger

How I wish we would have known

But long-awaited Holy Stranger

Make Yourself at home

Please make Yourself at home

Bring Your peace into our violence

Bid our hungry souls be filled

Word now breaking Heaven's silence

Welcome to our world

Welcome to our world

Fragile finger sent to heal us

Tender brow prepared for thorn

Tiny heart whose blood will save us

Unto us is born

Unto us is born

So wrap our injured flesh around You

Breathe our air and walk our sod

Rob our sin and make us holy

Perfect Son of God

Perfect Son of God

Welcome to our world

Chris Rice, Welcome to Our World

Thoughts of Unknown Quality

It’s siesta in the house but only the parents are taking the naps seriously. My brothers are on the computer trying to beat each other’s high scores on Zuma. I’m so glad I brought my laptop home so I don’t have to share. Wicked. It’s amazing, we haven’t watched a single film or rented anything from Video City this time around. I was reading “Spiritual Leadership” some minutes ago but it got too tedious for this afternoon’s lethargic atmosphere. So I flipped open my laptop and just sat here thinking. I’m not being very productive, I know.

Tonight’s Christmas Eve. Usually, the house is filled with crazy laughter and a lot of people but there are no visiting relatives this time, so we’re all much behaved.

We’re off to hear Mass, I think you call it Misa de Galleo (Oh, I don’t even know how to spell the thing!), at 10 tonight. My parents figured it waking us college kids at 6AM tomorrow is impossible so they decided we better set off tonight. They're definitely taking into account our nocturnal habits.

I was just thinking… I’m part of a generation that, sometimes, is bored with the usual Christian fare. I have to say there are times when it’s rousing especially when a point hits home. But most of the time, we’re there looking for something out of this world. And most of the time we don’t find it in four worship songs and a sermon. I don’t know, I just feel that there’s got to be more than looking to our Masses and services to experience something supernatural. Something supernatural that knocks us off our pedestals of human wisdom and onto the floor of humility.

We call Him Emmanuel, the God who is with us. David said he couldn’t flee from His presence. He said he is everywhere, He said He was near. And this gets me thinking, why limit Him to our Sundays. And so I wonder at what it would be like to experience God in the shower, in the classroom, in line at the grocery store, in McDonalds, in front of the laptop. I believe He makes Himself available anytime, anywhere. We just have to turn around and realize He’s there.

If I’m not making good sense, I probably should go and take that nap. My apologies.

Have a great Christmas everyone! I expect you to, what with the great news that Christ came to us to eventually save us. It makes me think of Alanis Morisette’s “What if God was one of us, just a stranger on the bus…” Ain’t it a great thing that He indeed became one of us?

Water Theme

Apparently, The Studio is quite dead. I came up with this great idea of posting all ballet/dance stuff there since some find it boring here and well, yeah, I'm a people pleaser most of the time, so there. As life unfolded, I realized how much intertwined ballet is with the rest of my life. My apologies to those who have to scroll down particularly long posts on my passion.

*******
It must be some chronic disease of sorts. Everytime I come home, I pray that I'll be a respectful and obedient daughter. Things go swimmingly well for the first few days, then I get what I like to call The Flashes. I get irritated by my parents and I drag my feet around.

Example: A little while ago, my mom just told me that she expected me in bed by 12. I had to bite my lip to prevent a caustic remark from getting out. Honestly, I'm still a trifle annoyed. My bedtime is 4AM and I'm wide awake until then. What am I supposed to do lying there in bed?! It will just irritate me more and make me less inclined to sleep. Honestly, I've lived with my insomnia long enough to know that getting into bed early and waiting for sleep doesn't work. Erg! Things turn into a battle of who knows best. And right now, I think I know what's best.

Oh Lord! Help me to listen to Mom and give this thing another go. Maybe this time, I'll fall asleep within 15 minutes. If I don't, sorry Mom, but the books say you should get up and do something else for a short time then try going to sleep after that. I tried Mom, really I did.

There, compromise, the life vest of situations like these.
*******
Hah! I used swimmingly then life vest...Funny.
*******
Oh, I'm sorry, please excuse me. Dear silly me, I've been going on and on about myself. How are you? I hope you're all having a great break too.

Have a joyful Christmas everyone!

Growing Pains

CS Lewis was right when he described growing up in the faith as something hidden. You turn around one day and gasp. And you turn only because someone tells you about your growth. It is never something one must be fixated on (“Did I grow today? Did I? Did I?”)…

A friend of mine claims I have grown up. She says, “You’re too holy for me.”

“Really? What in the world…” I ask the heavens. Three points:

(1) I certainly don’t feel holier or more mature. If anything, I feel weaker and more immature. I have so many faults. I have so many mistakes. And I continue to make more each day. Each day I pray that I would glorify Him in all I do. At the end of the day, I feel like an utter failure. I feel useless. It is mercy indeed that I look up and still see my Lord with arms open (& it is amazing that some people still love me).

(2) And since it is something I don’t really understand or even perceive myself, I can’t see how I am not caring about those they say I have “out run”. It weighs heavily on my heart to think that if indeed I have grown, that others would be disappointed or discouraged or dismayed (or worse yet become atheists!). Or that I have somehow grown callous or proud. What sort of growth is there then if I have become those things? It’s appalling what I’ve learned about myself these past days. Who’s calling that growth?! And if His presence is with me and is making demons flee in your life, that’s supposed to free you NOT make you depressed.

(3) Please, don’t call me “holy”, not even “holier”. My skin is starts to crawl.

Yeah, I’m in a mess with one of the most important relationships I have. If I grew up and became holier, then why I am still frantically shaking the cell phone and thinking “She just doesn’t get me!” If I grew up, then why don’t I have any clue about how to patch things up? Apologizing is doing nothing and I AM sorry. Okay, I shouldn’t expect her to forgive right now.

What do I have to do? I want to make things better, heal the wounds, rebuild bridges…world peace. Honestly. Come on, it’s Christmas. Someone tell me what to do?

Weighty Issues

I’d never thought I’d see the day. I’m actually doing my releves, eleves, plies, stretches and strengthening exercises everyday. Mom and I go walking or jogging daily. And I’m watching what I eat.

Reasons for the Occurrence of the Rare Phenomenon:

My body is God’s temple. More than fleeing from sexual immortality, I have to keep it fit. It’s what I have to move in and serve God in while I’m here on Earth. It is His instrument. I must take care of it. Hehe...Yeah, it took me a while to reallly listen to this.

Pointe shoes. I can hardly maintain a simple fifth position on pointe. I can’t walk three meters without collapsing. I can’t do echappes or pirouettes. The way I see it, I can either wallow in frustration or take it as a challenge to work at it. This is where patience comes in to work with passion. Weighing less will definitely help too.

Dance ministry. While it is primarily worship, it is also performance. And who knows, maybe one of these days, someone can actually lift me and I can do what I only do in my dreams: soar!

I want to fit into my high school clothes again. *Laughs* That way I gain a larger wardrobe without the expense.

It will certainly take longer to get fit and healthy again than it took me to get flabby. But one always has to take a first step. From there, one has to keep taking steps.

I hope this becomes one of my unbreakable habits. Like I said earlier, these things are easier at home. You don’t have your academics to worry about, you can do the laundry anytime and Mom is a fitness freak.

Please, please, please God, kulitin Nyo po ako pagdating Natin sa UP. Jogging tayo Lord. :)

*********

If there’s one thing I’m a little miffed over in the wake of my brothers’ grand arrival, it’s food.

See, it’s easy to eat healthy when it’s just me, my parents and grandmother. Yes, I said eat healthy folks. I know, some of you are shaking you’re heads and saying “Oh, come off it. It’s the Christmas season! There’s no way you can sanely attempt doing that!”

Yes there is. One can do it in the Mendoza house if you’re with my parents and grandmother only. They all have to watch what they eat due to various heart problems. So it’s fish and vegetables every meal. They shy away from fried food and when they do have to fry they try non-stick pans or using the smallest amount of oil possible. Dessert is always fresh fruit. They eat small portions so you don’t have anyone to be jealous of. There’s a steady supply of low-fat milk, lettuce, tomato and cucumber in the refrigerator. There’s not even a shadow of junk food, chocolate, cookies or jam in the house. So if you want a snack go grab an apple/banana/orange or stick your head into the ref and get the pre-sliced papaya/mango/pineapple. Carbo feast? Go cook some rolled oats or grab Carr’s table water (biscuits made without any shortening whatsoever!!!). It’s a veritable dieter’s heaven any time of the year!

But when my brothers come home, they’ll be scouring the kitchen hourly, prowling for prey and they’re picky about their prey. Mom’s already stocked the pantry with ingredients for Italian food, fruit salads and ref cakes. There’s ham, bacon and longganisa in the freezer along with pork cuts for lechon kawali. There’s packs of Pillows, cookies and chocolates somewhere in the house too (she hides them so supplies last). The heaven has turned into hell!

I must make it clear at this point that my Mom doesn’t do this just for my brothers. She does it for all of us college kiddies. She thinks it’s the only time we have decent meals and she’s right. But when I’m the only one home, it’s more economical to have me eat what’s on the table (it’s decent compared to dorm food!) than prepare off-limits food just for me. And I can convince her to not cook any when she thinks I’m deprived. We both enjoy the oats, the biscuits and the fruits without having to glance across the table to see mounds of rice, ulam and chocolate.

Others may tell me, “Well then, stick to what you’ve been eating even if your brothers are home and the meal is meat.” For those of you who can do that, I commend you. I can’t. I guess I have to hone my skills at eating small now.

Sigh. Why must fat taste so good?

This Week's Shower Song

And I don't think I do it justice. :)

Anyhow, it a song that I can definitely relate to...a "He's singing what my life/story!!!" sort of connection here. Guys and gals, next time you drop by a music store, pick up one of Chris Rice albums. :) They're worth it. Who knows, we might be singing the same song in the shower one of these days. :) Many thanks to Kuya Eigen for letting me know about his music.

Clumsy
Chris Rice

You think I’d have it down by now
Been practicin’ for thirty years
I should have walked a thousand miles
So what am I still doin’ here?
Reachin’ out for that same old piece of forbidden fruit
I slip and fall and I knock my halo loose
Somebody tell me what’s a boy supposed to do?

I get so clumsy
I get so foolish
I get so stupid
And then I feel so useless
But You’re sayin’ You love me
And You’re still gonna hold me
And that You wanna be near me
‘Cause You’re makin’ me holy
You’re still makin’ me holy, yeah

I’m gonna get it right this time
I’ll be strong and I’ll make You proud
I’ve prayed that prayer a thousand times
But the rooster crows and my tears roll down (again)
Then You remind me
You made me from the dust
And I can never, no never, be good enough
And that You’re not gonna let that come between us

I get so clumsy
I get so foolish
I get so stupid
And then I feel so useless
But You’re sayin’ You love me
And You’re still gonna hold me
And that You wanna be near me
‘Cause You’re makin’ me holy
You’re still makin’ me holy, yeah

From where I stand
Your holiness is up so high I can never reach it
My only hope is to fall on Jesus

I get so clumsy
I get so foolish
I get so stupid
And then I feel so useless
But You’re sayin’ You love me
And You’re still gonna hold me
And that You wanna be near me
‘Cause You’re makin’ me holy
You’re still makin’ me holy, yeah

Many Questions, Many Prayers

I’ve been seeking answers to the hundreds of questions I have about ICF. We number four as of now. Two will be graduating and the remaining other will be leaving the dorm. If God wills, I’ll be the lone one from the original fellowship by next school year.

I ask for forgiveness for letting things go downhill. I have only myself to blame.

I’ve been wondering if I was really meant to lead this group of women. I can’t remember the call but I find myself here. I’ve been asking for assurance to salve the doubts. I want to reason out that I can’t do it but each time I do that, I sense a displeasure around. Like Moses, I reason that I do not know how to lead and I hear a roar in the distance. Oh Lord, help me live by faith.

I’ve been asking what He wants. There are only so many activities and curriculums and themes I can think of for next year---a year I believe is extremely crucial. But I won’t be at peace unless I am assured that the path I walk and make others walk in is God’s path, God’s best. I’m asking, “Lord, what do You see?” I pray for a vision to guide our actions, our passions and our hearts. Can I believe with a firm conviction that He can save the entire dorm? Honestly, such idea is too high for me. “Impossible!” But perhaps a vision like that won’t come to pass in my generation. Can I believe that if He wills it, it is possible? Only a small part of me says “With You Lord, all things are possible.” Oh Lord, help me live by faith.

Can a fellowship survive if there are hurts and bitterness floating around? No it can’t. And what must one do about that? “Be humble and gentle. Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love. Always keep yourselves united in the Holy Spirit, and bind yourselves together with peace.” Help us obey Your Word Lord.

"Don't worry about anything, instead pray about everything. Tell God what you need and thank Him for all He has done."

Staying Awake (Random Thoughts)

Hopefully I'll be able to haul myself onto the 9AM bus later and be home by 4PM. Yey! I'm going home! I'm going home!

The party here in the room was a hoot. We had some pizza, played card games and charades, and exchanged gifts. It wasn't anywhere as bad as I thought it would be. Thank You God.

I wonder, was she pleased with the Bible Handbook?

I got a Starbucks commuter mug from Gillian. Yippeeyeyyeyyee!!!

I find myself extremely protective towards people around me. Other people have noticed it too. Part of me doesn't appreciate my overload of maternal instincts.

I'll be on a dial-up modem at home. Expect fewer posts. :)

Praise God. At the end of the day, I always find that I lack nothing. May His grace sustain me at home, may He give me courage to stand and spaek the Truth, may He bless our times with our families this season.

In Disarray

• The "single-sex" dorms had a Christmas party at kuya dave's house. Oooh, I really want to be as hospitable and as warm as Ate June. We feasted on pancit, cake and, get this, PARFAIT!!! I would have gone back for a second serving but there wasn't any left. We played games (Kuya Dave makes for a very efficient gamemaster). Then we settled down to worship through song (I love it when men lead because I get to sing along without worrying about hitting high notes) and a message care of Kuya Jan. I was so blessed to be there in a fellowship again. I met a lot of new friends and heard a lot about God's wonders in our individual lives. I felt like an orphan who'd been taken in and given her first Christmas party.
• I encountered a new word: Neo-puritan. Kuya Dave says he's the only one in DCF and DCBC who's neo-puritan. What in the world...
• I cried over a "problem" in public. I don't usually do that. In fact, I never do. But tonight as we walked out of the house and back to our respective dorms, I felt so overwhelmingly lonely that it was all I could do to keep from crumbling and keep walking (much thanks to Sheena for propping me up). I'll be heading home on Friday and when I get there, I'll have to live without the communities I have come to love so dearly: DCF and DCBC. Don't get me wrong. I want to go home too. I really miss my family. But it's sad to know that I won't have another believer to talk to, pray with or simply sit with for about two weeks. So, I'm praying that God would make fertile the hearts at home to His Gospel. I yearn to celebrate Christmas with my mom, dad, two brothers and grandmother knowing that they're in a relationship with the birthday celebrant.
• She's not talking to me. I guess I've disappointed/hurt her again. Like that's news! Ah, well, tis the season to be merry they say...Hah! You could cut the tension in the room with a butter knife. I wonder how this year's Christmas party here in 122 will be like... Advance apologies to Apple and Gillian in case they notice the odd note in the symphony of our room.
• I just found out and I'm not sure how to react: Roxanne will be leaving Ilang next year. Sheena and Nellie are graduating. There are only four of us right now. Okay, take away the three of them leaves? Leaves me.
• It's not fair that the world can easily delimit the population from which to sample my possible crushes by considering only two questions: (1) Who are the men older or as old as Ate Krissy and (2) Who are guys around her that are taller than her? Not that the world is making much progress in that study. I don't understand why they're interested in the first place. I'm a bore in that part of my life.
• Yes, I have crushes.
• Roxanne and Sheena. Thanks for being so brave. Thanks for coming to the party with me. Thanks for being around these days to listen, to tell me stories, to remind me of things, to rebuke me and to hug me. I seem to be needing a lot of all those things lately.
• I took the Spiritual Gifts Inventory. According to the evaluation sheet, my dominant gift is service and helps. No surprise there. What surprises me is that the second gift after that is Mercy.
• I figured, if I got to know the person more, all my struggles will end. I think I just like the projected image I get in my imagination.
• Last night, I was blind for some time. I could see nothing but pitch black even if I was all but popping my eyes out of their sockets. I rubbed them to check and I still couldn't see anything. I'm still wondering what caused my "black-out".
• God is so great and good. That I know to be true even when I'm in disarray. Amazing grace.

Grazie, Merci, Danke

I am thankful for:

• Tonight's dinner at Chocolate Kiss care of Kuya Caloy. The Chicken Ala Kiev was delicious!!! It was great to talk with Kuya Caloy again.
• God's grace. Kuya Caloy commented on how my countenance has truly changed from miserable to radiant. It's all because of the Lord who has allowed me to undergo trials, given me the strength to endure and who knows that I am but dust.
• My Mom who has done an outstanding job at being our mother AND our father.
• DCF and DCBC. They comprise my social life and are an incredible community.
• Another year that's drawing to a close.
• My relatively smooth and pimple-free face (compared to six months ago). Thanks to God for leading me to a very competent dermatologist.
• Today's mercies.
• The vacation mode I can now turn on for real because I don't have anymore classes. Just one machine problem and two Christmas parties!
• Nailpolish!!! I have succeeded in disguising the three nails that got bruised in Saturday's ballet class. My feet are the only parts of me that I think are beautiful. You can only imagine how disturbed I am over seeing my nail beds turn purple and brown. But then, I get to dance. One thing for another.

Into the Light

This is my testimony of God’s wondrous ways. It was written on my third birthday in the faith (February 2005) and was posted on my first blog. It underwent some editting for posting on my second blog and for the church membership data sheet. It retains the “atmosphere” of my birthday so you’ll still find the thanksgiving part as it is. I simply condensed the original one (yes, you are lucky you're reading the shorter version already!)

I was raised in a Catholic family in a Muslim country. I can remember going to Mass in my school's gym. Most of the congregation was Filipino. I remember the very kind priest we had. He was Filipino and he looked like those friars in my picture books, a round belly, hand serenely resting on his tummy and a jolly face. He would always welcome us around him at the end of the Mass. He liked asking the kids how they were. I liked him very much. Church and God seemed nice. But he soon went away and his replacement was an old Irish priest, who looked so stern and cold. We moved to a bigger and architecturally beautiful church. I went to Mass with Filipinos, Indians, Africans and Britons. I got a little lost in the big structure and was more interested in watching the other people worship. God suddenly seemed big, cold and oh so far away.

My mom always told us to pray. So every night when I was young I'd say the typical kid's prayer: Hello Father God. Thank You for everything. Bless this and that person. It didn't really make sense praying to the ceiling but I was a good little girl and I did what Mom told me to. Most of the time, it felt good to know that there was someone who was watching over me and who, I was told, cared for me deeply.

When I was eight, I became aware of how my dad wasn't around for us in the way he should be. When I was around nine until I was eleven, I was abused by some men. It was difficult to picture God the Father. It was hard to believe that God loved me. Somehow I couldn't connect with a God like that. I stopped praying to the ceiling and lied to my mother. Wherever He was and whatever He was supposed to do, He simply did not care about me. He was probably off somewhere trying to fix the starvation in Somalia or trying to fix the war in Iraq.

The british international school I attended shut down and moved five hours away from our community. So my parents decided it would be better for us to go to school in the Philippines. So my mom and three of us kids came home and she enrolled us in a Catholic school. So I was back to hearing about God and how He created the world and how He sent His Son to save me. But I also began to learn that He had all these rules and commands. That made me mad. For someone who didn't care, He some chutzpah to tell me what to do and not to do. (I stand incredibly amazed and humbled that He didn't zap me with a death ray just then)

Time passed by. Through high school, He remained a cold, aloof character up there. I didn't get very excited about Him. I still went to church because my parents would take us and it was pretty useless to argue with them. Besides, I was a good person. I didn't drink, smoke, gamble, have sex with anyone (my boyfriend then just had to deal with this), or do drugs. I was actually one of the four girls in our batch that the rest called "The Victorian Ladies". Who needed God?

I probably prayed to the person up there only when my family was having problems or when I was heartbroken. But He didn't seem to be around. My prayers for my family, for my amibitions and my relationship with a guy seemed to fall on deaf ears. Okay, if You’re not going to help because You don’t really care or don’t really exist, I’ll have to figure things out on my own. So I turned to my reflection in the mirror. I got interested in the New Age stuff of spirits and gifts. I liked hypnosis. I liked the idea that I was perfect being, capable of so much, that if I could channel my energies to the right place and find my center, I'd be fine.

If I was honest to myself back then, I'd say I felt like I didn't belong, that I was no good , that I was "damaged goods", and that I had no purpose. But I covered it up somehow. I was popular, I was wanted, I was going to be a great, compassionate doctor. I held fast to that ambition because it gave me a sense of purpose in this world. It gave me a sense of significance. Someone once wrote that some people wanted to become doctors because it made them feel good. Afterall, you were literally giving your life (in sleepless nights, expensive education, etc.) to help others live. I liked the idea. I wanted to buy my salvation through it.

I got accepted into the premier state university, UP. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I didn't get into the course I wanted as a pre-med. So I got stuck in Physics. I felt cheated but was determined to get good grades to shift courses and go after my dream to become a doctor. It was an ambition that defined me and covered up my cluelessness as to where and why I was.

The summer before I went off to university, my mother made me promise that I go to church. She knew I hated going but she insisted. She didn't want the university's liberal ideas and atheism/agnostisicm to get to me. Little did she know I had long shoved God into a corner of my mind and was comfortable with that. But I did promise because I loved my mom and wanted her to have some peace of mind when I was six hours away.

And so the first semester of my freshman year found me going to church religiously after about three years of skipping. My roommate was a Catholic too and she seemed to love church and she seemed to love God. It was weird but I learned to live with it. I found a barkada, a group of really interesting, funny and happy ladies. They were the people I wanted to be. They seemed so sure of themselves, so comfortable with who they were and what they did. They had this happiness in them that I was envious of. And they could handle the fact that they were sometimes clueless. I couldn't. As the semester wore on, I found out that these fun and kind people loved the God I didn't like hearing about. They lived like He was right there. When they had problems, they went to Him like He was right there. they seemed to know Him. They seemed incredibly free with this God of rules.

I got intrigued and jealous. And when that happened, every Sunday at church, I'd tune the priest out and look up at the gigantic crucifix in the middle of the church and ask the guy hanging there, "Who are You? Where are you? What do you do all day?"Yeah, I'd heard John 3:16 lots of times before but this time I really listened and I considered the words. By the end of the first semester, I was hooked on trying to find out what was up with this God that my friends took Him seriously and were actually having a lot of fun. They cried, laughed and lived in His presence every single day and that spoke volumes of possibility to me.

In the middle of my second semester, I was failing a subject and my dreams of becoming a doctor seemed to be washed up on another shore so far from mine. I had no more ambition to cling on to. I was frustrated and lost. I felt so useless, unloved and empty. I braved the days on but when one day, I couldn't take it anymore. I went crying to one of my friends. I knocked loudly on her door and woke her up just so I could rant against the world that had taken everything away. Anger is probably the best defense mechanism in the world. She hugged me and cried along with me, & why on earth she did wasn't important. It was a comfort to know someone could relate.

My shouting woke up another of my friends across the hall and she came, bleary-eyed, to hold my hand. They were silent as I shouted and cried and lashed out at people in my past and present, at how unfair the world was, and at how I hated myself. When I finally took a breather, one of my friends asked if they could pray for me. Ordinarily, I'd have laughed it off and thought they were such freaks. But that day, I was at the end of myself and was just about ready to try anything to take away the pain, loneliness and emptyness. So they prayed. I still thought them a bunch of weirdos for believing in God at the beginning of the prayer. I cried on but I listened to them talk to Him. They use no fancy words. They simply talked to Him and asked Him to come comfort me and show me that He loved me. That seemed odd to me and I was about to lash out on God, when, and I know you'll think me crazy, He came and made Himself felt. I felt like He was hugging me. I felt like a little girl finding her daddy's arms. And it was wonderful. He was silent at first, just sort of absorbing my pain in His embrace and being there. Then He spoke. "Daughter, I know all that you’ve been through and all that you’ve ever done…I love You."

I just had to cry more. Oh man, this is crazy, God speaking to me. But I could not deny Him any longer, nor could I deny the rush of a hunger to know Him that swept onto me. Could You say that again God? Oh man...This is not rational. But, oh my, God loves me!!! My friends finished praying and I was so calm. I felt so happy. I wanted the God they had. I wanted to know the Man who hung on the Cross. I knew I needed Him in my life.

God was certainly not letting me go. Later that day my roommate (who knew nothing of the incident that happened earlier) said she wanted to tell me something about God but that she'd tell me only after I read the Gospel of John. So I picked up the Bible for the third time in my life. Yes, I have kept count of that. The first was when God was slowly fading from my life and I didn't want that to happen. So I read Genesis when I was 7 yars old but thought that God was such a bore because of it and that didn't help His fading image. The second time was when a high school friend tried sharing her faith. I got curious again and this time picked up the Bible and read Revelation. It scared me stiff and I stopped reading. It still does scare me sometimes, by the way.

Anyway, I finished the Gospel of John in three days. I told my roommate and she was surprised. She asked if I understood it. I admitted it didn't make much sense but I kept pleading she tell me about God anyway. I was so impatient to hear what she had to say. So she (finally!!!) pulled out a tract (The Four Spirtitual Laws) and guided me through it. And at the end of it all, I prayed, admitted my sinfulness and asked for forgiveness. I prayed that I would know Him just like the disciples did and just like my friends did. I had never known a love so unconditionally and perfectly given until that moment and I prayed that He would change my life and make it His. That happened on February 16, 2002.

And while, it would be three months later (it seems like three's the number of the day) that I would find a church where I could grow, a Bible, and someone to follow me up, I never forgot the day when God became real to me. I'll never forget how I first realized that He loves me though I no more deserve it than dung deserves a burial plot and tombstone.

Years later, here I am loving Him because He loved me first. I am incredibly free in Christ, free from my past and my own sinfulness. I am forgiven though I never stopped sinning even after I believed in Him. Who I am isn't dictated by what I can do and what I can't do. My identity doesn't lie in that dark corner where I lost something precious. My identity doesn't lie in what other people may think of me or even what I may think of myself. My identity lies in Him and who He says I am. I am never alone. I am loved by the One who knows me through and through. I am happy. I am free. I am thankful.

I'd like to thank God for my garments, God for my dwelling up there, God for being my Best Friend and Lover, God for being my Holy Father, the Holy Spirit for being my Counselor, Jesus for being my example, Jesus for being my Savior, Jesus for being there when I was lonely, hurting and cold. This Three Years Mark is Yours and was made possible by You. Here's to more years with You Lord!

Thanks for allowing me to play some part here on Your Stage. Thank you for being my audience, for being on The Stage with me and for being the Spirit in me. Thank You that when I leave this theater, I'll have a place and You to go home to. And that beats any applause here on earth!

All glory, honor and praise to God!

The Awe Continues

On my second (yes, just my second!!!) ballet class in pointes, I was once again humbled and awed at my Lord. I barely survived the walk en pointe around the studio to warm up my arches. During barre exercises, I was collapsing to demi-pointe (the position where the balls of the feet are on the floor) and I had to lift myself using my arms to get back on en pointe. My center work was baaad too.

It made me think about last Sunday's Cantata. I did a couru for the angels singing part in "What Child is This" and had my teacher been there, she'd probably be surprised. I really don't have enough strength to maintain my balance and position on my toes. It takes incredible core strength (my tummy is one of the laziest areas) and correct contraction of calves and hamstrings and all those leg muscles. And I have none of that.

"But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you,

for my power is made perfect in weakness.

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly

of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

---2 Corinthians 12:9

Glory to God!

Autumn

We had our first ICF tonight. A really short one and just three of us attended. Most of a time a silence hung in the air. I don't know, it was a tangibly dry fellowship. But I'm thankful for Sheena and Nellie coming.

I'm more than flustered. I'm frustrated...and depressed over it. It's easy to fall prey to the thought that this is all my fault and that I have been doing (or not doing) things wrong. Besides, who else could be responsible?

Sigh. I'm not very articulate here. I'm leaving.

Exclusivity

I am thankful for a renewed sense of hunger to know God. I count it an early Christmas gift. For so long, I have been content with where I am with my Lord, refusing to move on. I stubbornly held my ground not wanting Jesus to say “Mine!” to any more of me. “I have to have something of my own!” I yelled at Him. In the end, I was losing out on precious moments with my Lord because I wanted to save myself.

I am thankful that in spite of my shifting from faith to doubt, confidence to fear, faithfulness to abandonment, He remains as madly in love with me as the first time. I think that it is this love that pulls me to my feet and makes me start walking anew. The fact that He makes such a strong claim to my life makes me fear Him and yet draw to Him. May the second reaction outweigh the first one.

Sitting by the Stage Curtains

My quiz paper was barely covered in solutions this afternoon another reason to be sad and consequently another reason why I must guard my time with the Lord fiercely. I’m experiencing a major backlog in my academic work as a by product of a week’s practice and choreography for last Sunday’s cantata. I’m trying to survive on half my usual sleeping time so I can recover and I still find myself skipping meals because of my schedule. I quit as an applicant to Ex Libris. And yet, I would not have it any other way.

It’s been two days since the Cantata and I’m still on a hangover. I learnt so much about myself, other people and God during that hectic week. I’ve been extremely blessed by the entire incident. Every night last week, I would walk home wanting to write something in my journal or post on my blog, but (like Janna) I was too exhausted to do anything, even my academics.

So I’m trying to recover all that might be lost from memory (who knows, I might have Alzheimer’s in the future?).

I call the other ladies of the dance ministry “my girls” (Lulu calls me “Mommy”). I have found myself extremely protective and caring towards them. I guess it’s only natural when you spend at least three hours a day with them, knowing that they’re there because they desire to worship the Lord and that they are giving so much more than just their bodies and their time. Maybe it occurred during the collective thirst, hunger and fatigue during the practice. Or during our scary night at the College of Education where we all saw a ghost.

I smile when I remember them and the moments we had. Kit has probably said more thank you’s and sorry’s to me than everyone else has in this entire year. Lulu is always bubbling over with stories or jokes or encouragement. I wouldn’t have even tried choreographing “What Child is This?” had it not been for her gentle yet persistent push. Kate chose to be there even if she’s already busy with the Indakan and had exams coming up. Nellie gave up review time and choreographed the later half of “God of Wonders” even if it wasn’t her job. Salve, our resident hair net designer, gave herself to the dance despite commitments in the ushering team. Janna lent a quiet strength to me and perhaps the others. All of them pitched in ideas, steps, advice, laughter, smiles and hugs. All of them sought to praise the Lord and I was blessed by that desire in them. I know God was pleased with them, with us. Definitely one of the most fabulous moments in my life.

I am thankful that God allowed me to know these daughters of His in this way. I never would have thought Janna as the sort of person who made jokes or giggled. She’s always seemed so shy and pensive. She’s still that but there’s a wacky side to her. I’ve never received thanks for praying so Kit was my first. I’ve never received a hug after dancing so Lulu was my first. I never felt moved to pray for the people I work with and have them hear those prayers so the dance ministry is my first. I’ve always been a “lifter” in dances (never a “liftee”) and these ladies are certainly not my last.

Kit and Lulu have a strength that one does not realize at first. Maybe their youthfulness lends them the aura of vulnerability but they are strong women, believe me. And those that I perceive to be strong, myself included, have a sensitive and soft side that hurts too.

I’ve never wanted to punch someone but last Sunday I did. And someone above me at that! How I kept my cool only God knows. I have given it up to the Lord, acknowledging that it hurt not only me but others. By His grace, I forgave and let go. It is such a blessing though to read the apology shortly after my talk with the Lord regarding this matter.

I wanted to shake the wits out of two men last Sunday for not being there for their sisters. Their sisters worked hard and long and they missed that glorious moment. Again, I have to forgive.

I had Ate Mikay follow my preferences with the costume and that cost her nights without sleep. I forgot to pray and prepare devotionals for the dance team some of the times we practiced. I took my best friend’s efforts for granted. I was lax in my academics. I made a terrible noise with my pointe shoes during the performance of ‘What Child is This?” For these things, I have to learn to forgive myself.

And still I look up and find my Lord smiling.

The Strong

We deceive ourselves when we fancy that only weakness needs support. Strength needs it far more.

She can smile and laugh the whole day. But the night finds her weeping on her knees, crying out from the depths of insufficiency, loneliness, and yes, weakness.

She can live without your kind validation if somewhat barely. She knows she just has to get it somewhere else. But it would be nice to enclosed in arms, to feel a warm hand on her back, or a smile caressing her.

She is as vulnerable as anyone else, only more adept at disguise and deceit.

She needs your prayers, your encouragement and your company like any other.

She is amazed along with you, when at the end of the day, she realizes she has survived. And she looks up at her Source and gives thanks.

The Strong

We deceive ourselves when we fancy that only weakness needs support. Strength needs it far more.

She can smile and laugh the whole day. But the night finds her weeping on her knees, crying out from the depths of insufficiency, loneliness, and yes, weakness.

She can live without your kind validation if somewhat barely. She knows she just has to get it somewhere else. But it would be nice to enclosed in arms, to feel a warm hand on her back, or a smile caressing her.

She is as vulnerable as anyone else, only more adept at disguise and deceit.

She needs your prayers, your encouragement and your company like any other.

She is amazed along with you, when at the end of the day, she realizes she has survived. And she looks up at her Source and gives thanks.

Slowly Drowning

So I'm tired of it. You can come kick me now. There's a part of me that will give you the reason that it's been a ragged four (five?) years and nothing seems to be changing but the challenge I can never measure up to. Right now, I'm even having problems just getting myself to answer to it.

And then there's the part of me that laments over it. In the midst of my joy and peace, I feel that. And I am shattered to my core. For it is a sad and miserable matter and I do not deny I have faults in it too.

It is not about the formation, or the commitment. An I was sorry and thankful. And that has fallen on deaf ears. And I don't want this to be my defense either.

I know what happened behind a dancer's back and I know that the words stung all of us, especially her.

I don't know what to do but fall.

A Manifesto

I will wait. Wait for His time, His plan and His chosen one.

No, it is not easy. And yes, you will have to dedicate yourself to this battle every single day. But it is worth it. He is worth it and he is worth it.

Joy to Me! (does that make sense?!)

I’ve just arrived from cantata. My leotards and tights are in disarray on my bed and I’ve yet to unpack, but for once my obsessive compulsive nature to be neat and clean is not following through. I guess I’m too happy. No, change that. I’m joyful.

This afternoon’s practices led to comments that the dance team did not look like we were taking things seriously. We were giggling, making mistakes and making them obvious, smiling too wide and generally doing a sloppy job. But what a transformation! When it came to the real performance, we all pulled through! Sure, we could have been more synchronized, but we made an insignificant number of mistakes, our faces somehow radiated the serenity of worship and I believe that just as we prayed for, everything but the desire to have the Lord delighted was left in us.

That’s only a small part of why I’m joyful.

There is much I could complain about. But I find myself laughing over those incidents that might otherwise been really annoying bumps on the road if not for God’s guidance and grace. Like I said, the practice was a disaster. Then, we rushed to change into our costumes and put on make-up. We rushed our prayer before our performance because we barely finished preparing when the curtain call came for us. By this time, we were no longer warmed up and that’s the reason most of my dancers are sore right now.

While God of Wonders was up (Janna, Kate, Kit and Nellie danced to this), I was almost hysterical backstage. I couldn’t find my toe pads!!! The pointe shoes would simply kill my toes if I didn’t pad them. But time constraints forced me to wear them unpadded. Then when I tried a simple on pointe fifth position, my arches screamed. I wasn’t warmed up!!! I panicked because there was no way I could survive my solo part if my arches were burning. So I went through a couple of plies and grand battements (leg throws) in hopes to warm up and the entire time I was praying “Lord, please help me. I can’t do this like this.” It takes me a good hour of dancing or activity to get warmed up and flexible. And there I was trying to do it in under five minutes.

But me and Lulu survived and I can only and truly say that it was the Lord who sustained me. While dancing my solo in my pointes, I totally forgot everything, even the pain in my feet. If my face was serene, then it was deceiving. The Lord knows that the entire time I was dancing I was praying. Lulu had to adjust to me several times because I suddenly put in new steps and forgot some of the others. While being congratulated a while ago, I wanted to tell the entire world that most of the dance was free style and on-the-spot improvisation. It was like I was separate from my body and I would think, “Wow! What in the world is my arm doing?!” God was choreographing my steps right then and there!

And seriously, the same thing happened with the I Can Only Imagine dance! The Spirit’s presence and His reminders and guidance was truly there on the stage tonight. And the encounter lingers still.

As we made our exit after our final dance this evening, I found myself utterly overwhelmed. I could not help but weep at the lord’s graciousness, beauty, and love. I am so unworthy and yet this! I come wanting to see His face and He meets me! I look in the mirror and see a no one and yet He tells me I am His very image. I dance for Him and He chooses the active role of dancing with me and not just watching me. I am nothing and yet He calls me beloved!

Surely, all the dead toenails, aching muscles, dance mistakes, applause, cheer and comments, ragged nights and fuzzy mornings, rebukes from leaders, the fact that The Guy wasn’t there, praises from superiors, hugs, handshakes, beautiful costumes and renown CANNOT compare to HIM!

To the Lord be all glory, praise and honor for HE IS WORTHY!!!

Oh Yeah

Me and Lulu will be dancing to "What Child is This". I'm going to dance Mary and the idea is that I should be able to dance a mother's joy then a mother's sorrow. I have got to tell you that of all the dances, this is the one that totalled me. A mother's joy?! A mother's sorrow?! For the life of my toes, I couldn't really figure out what to do. Perhaps because, it takes a mother to be able to get some semblance of all that immense emotion. And I'm not a mother.

The funny thing was, I tried imagining having a kid of my own, just to get into the mood of the dance, and I ended up thinking about The Guy. Ay naku, mahaba-habang QT ito! Lord!

Barely Breathing But Happy

The Cantata is tomorrow. The dances are fine. I've been worrying (not to mention aching and not sleeping and not eating) the whole week but just this night, I am at peace. Honestly, I don't really care if we don't get it perfect tomorrow. I don't think that's the point anymore. I mean, hey, i'd love to have a performance where we all remember the steps, we're all syncronized, etc. But in the end, I just want to know that I, we have pleased God. And I pray that all of us, in a week of practice and cramming, would have known God in a fresh, new way.

Anyway, I have to sleep or else I'll be one dancing zombie tomorrow night. A graceful one at that. I hope. ;)