iClose

Lent is the time to meditate, the time to recognize all your sin and ultimately nail it to Jesus's cross before the fall of easter. In this light, I'll be closing this blog this whole lent. For when I stop talking, I'll start to listen, and when God stop listening, God will start talking. I'll be able to hear His sweet voice in my soul and in time, share to you the greatest joy God has instore for us.

I pray and hope that we may all have the most meaning ful lent in our lives.

To God be the glory and the power forever and ever!

iTight

[07:20 North EDSA]

 

 

 

I can only do so much.

 

And as I ponder on that phrase, the gravity of my current position fell on me like raging water falling down the waterfalls. I'm in the tightest spot I've ever been into. Physically, it was torment. I got stuck in the middle of an overpass swarming with people, all late for work because it was an hour when the MRT personnel let a passenger into the MRT platform. It was a standstill but the bulk of people came flooding in from every corner. But beyond the hustle and bustle of the place, inside me was an even tighter, even heavier problem. 

 

In my hand, tied into a knot, was my rosary. I gripped the crucifix ever so tightly that I felt sweat building-up in my palms. But I gripped even tighter as if it was the only rope that's preventing me from falling into a very deep plunge. I was desperate.

 

My budget for the week was the tightest compared to the tight budgets I had months ago. My financial struggles spelled an even tighter budget for my family. Even my belt was tighter than usual but above all these, it was the problem I had in my neck that was gripping me into a deadly choke--the tightest of them all--my problems at work.

 

I used to love my work. I was a proud Production Editor at a Filipino owned BPO company, even though the pay was never enough. I loved the work I do, I loved the tasks I accomplish however controversial they may be, and more so, the friendship I nurtured at work was the best part of my job and I loved it the most. But recent controversies changed everything. The work that I do failed to love me back. I was disappointed. Me and my officemates were disappointed.

 

The disappointment I had took it's toll on my performance at work. I used to be the most resourceful, most "bibo" employee, but for months, I've been acting like a kid in tantrums. I woke up one day hating my work. Even the simple clicking of my mouse would require a lot of effort on my part and I barely finish any tasks during a day. I'm acting on immaturity and impulsiveness and I hated it. I didn't want this to happen, I didn't want this attitude on my working life but apathy took the throne in my heart, established itself as the selfish king and it won't budge.

 

The line at the MRT moved a little as people pushed themselves to each other even tighter. I followed suit. The delay was an open warfare inside me. In my mind, the delay was a curse. I had so many things to do at work and so little time to do it. But my heart was shooting arrows at my mind with the idea that the delay was a blessing. I needed this delay. I needed this delay because in my heart, I didn't want to go to work. That seeing my monitor would only mean that I need to do the same things I'm doing for the past three years and the things I don't want to do anymore and these kinds of delays are the last bastion of my sanity. I wanted to go to work but I also wished I could just stay at home. Confusing at it may sound, the arguments pulled me into two separate ways and like an overstretched rubber band, I felt my patience snapping. I can only do so much.

 

Last week was hell week. And if that was hell week, then this week would be an even worse torment, even worse than standing for more than an hour in the middle of an stagnant line. I was drifting into a haze as different perfumes fought their way into my nostrils. I remembered the problems that's been bothering me the whole weekend.

 

A virus corrupted my email and everyone tried to retrieve my lost emails to no avail. Three years worth of emails gone to waste. The grip on my neck became tighter as I remembered all that was lost. What made it worse was that I didn't care. I didn't care what my clients would say, I didn't care about the data I lost and how to recover from that kind of problem and my apathy towards work worried me so much and I was suddenly questioning God's will in my life.

 

I know, I've been thought that as a Light of Jesus member, I should shine Jesus' light to the world. But right now, God's light in me flickered like a fluorescent lamp with a busted starter. I know God loves me and I know I can rely on Him for help. But I cannot bring myself to ask him a favor because, I felt unworthy.

 

I am a sinner. I sin. I did a lot of things that made God's eyes bloodshot with tears. I still do things that disgraces Him. I have addictions I cannot control. I am guilty and ashamed of what I do that I could not look onto the sky to flood my eyes with God's wonders. I deserved this torment, I said to myself. My eyes sinned and I can only look downwards, on my feet. I closed my eyes, afraid of my own shadow. It was dark. I tried calling God for help but as if the network was down, I only got a busy tone. The network was down, I repeated. I got scared. 

 

I held onto my rosary more tightly. I felt the sharp edges of the crucifix making mark on my palms and it was getting painful but I didn't care. I could only hold on to this. I can only hold on to God because He's the only thing that I can hold on to right now. He's the true peace, the real truth and my salvation. 

 

My connection failed with God because of my sins. My weaknesses prevented me from sincerely calling for His aid and I got even more scared as I looked at my problems. "My worries and anxieties are the only tangible beings in my life now," I told myself. And as I look unto them straight into their eyes, I chanted a familiar phrase I always say whenever everything felt wrong. I have a big God.

 

My big God loves me. However sinful I maybe, however troublesome I may have become. He has forgiven me even before I repented. Repentance is always the effect of His undying love. It will never be the cause. God forgave me of my sins giving me the reason to repent, and He died in the cross just to prove me that.

 

My big God takes care of the impossible. If I can only do the little that I can, as long as it's the best thing I can do, God will do the rest. God has prepared for me a brighter future.  God has already given me the best things I could have, it's just not the right time to have them all and beyond this problem, there is salvation.

 

My big God is a victorious God. He already won the battle against sin, death and evil. He already won the war and He will triumph against everything, what more this petty problems that I have?

 

My big God is bigger than any problems that I may have. That in my greatest problems, in my biggest  trials, my big God has an even greater miracle brewing just for me. That always, the problems I'm facing, however huge it may seem to be is proportional to God's size, only He's a whole lot bigger.

 

And as I looked into my problems' eyes, I remembered a friend telling me, "I don't know about you, but I don't tell God how big my worries and problems were. I tell my problems, 'Problem, I have a big God!'"

 

"I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." (Philippians 4:13)

 

And as I walked the baby steps inside that cramped MRT station, I continued chanting "I have a big God" and that is when, I saw something glimmer in my feet. I crouched and with great effort retrieved a shiny 10 peso coin.

 

"This is going to be a good day," I told myself and continued chanting. I began to smile.

 

May God's love make your problems a small boat beside a US Carrier that is God's majesty,

 

 

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

 

     

 

 

 

 

iWatch

       

[21:02 Taft Avenue Station]

It was like watching an Academy award winning film.

I disembarked from the the most hostile bus ride I ever had for the year with a heavy heart. It's not every day a stranger shouts at you "Pre ano ba! Yung siko mo kanina pa!" or the bus conductor yell at you, for all the people to see, "Anak ng! Nakatingin pa sa TV bababa nalang! Bilis!" I wanted to scrape-off my face just so no one would identify me. I paused at the entrance of the Mahal Kita lodge, trying to regain my composure. My face felt numb. For a minute or two, I imagined my self-esteem scattered all over the pavement like a vulgar bodily organs of a forgotten road-kill, being trampled upon by strangers. As soon as I gathered enough self-worth, I slowly dragged my feet to the MRT .

I saw the MRT entrance right ahead with it's menacing looking inspection booth and it's unbelievable long lines. I sighed. I reached and felt the insides of my pocket, searching for my MRT Stored Value ticket. "I still got 13 pesos in this baby", I told myself. This would be the last time I'm going to use this. I sighed again. I also looked into my wallet and saw nine lowly one peso coins. Great. If I'm going to use my stored value ticket, then I'd have to borrow money from my sisters just so I could go to work the next day. I needed a miracle and I asked for one. 

I never had the slightest firm foot hold on the muddy, slippery metal overpass at Rotunda so I needed to grip unto the dirty barriers of the overpass, hopping here in there away from puddles of waters, trying to maintain my balance--it was a struggle. Finally, I got into the last part of the line at the MRT entrance and I joined in a slow dance with the rest of the harassed looking crowd. In my mind, I tried stretching my budget for the next day just so it's end could meet but it's too far a stretch. I really needed a miracle, and that's when God sent an angel.

I saw her wearing a rather fancy jacket, too fancy for an ordinary MRT goer. She also wore a blue ABS-CBN shirt inside that jacket and she looked tall in her skinny jeans. She gained a little weight as I recall the last time I saw her and she looked remarkably pretty. She was going the other direction, away from the entrance but good thing the MRT lines were slow, I had the chance to say hi. I paused in the middle of the line and stepped a little closer to the rope fences and said, "Excuse me miss Arianne Orellosa!"

She was looking down and just as she heard her name called, she turned to me and I saw a gasp in her face. With the surprised expression she stretched her arms, ready for that million dollar hug. "Oh my God!" She shouted.

We hugged in the middle of the busy, crowded MRT lines; we hugged with a rusty and dirty fence between us; we hugged reminiscing the years that passed by. Three long years. Wow. It was that long? But seeing her made my week and my heart pounded. Suddenly my very core longed for the good old college days I missed so much.    

She's one of the closest friends I had in UST (yeah yeah, by now you'd probably know that almost all of my college friends are close to me). We joined the same theatre group, both of us were journalism students and we're also top commissioners of our college's Commission on Elections. Also, she came from an all-girls school in Laguna besides an all-boys school with just a wall separating it, my school, Don Bosco College. And now, three years after graduation, I wanted to catch-up. I let loose and looked at her. Before I could even speak, she looked away and called someone I also knew from college, her boyfriend Kali, looking raggedly handsome on his white shirt. "SIR!" I called making an abrupt salute and I grabbed him in a brotherly handshake and hug.

"San ka galing?" I asked.

"Sa PAGCOR may set-up kami," Arianne said looking half excited, half exhausted. "Ikaw?" She added.

"Sa likod lang ng PAGCOR, dun ako nagtatrabaho," I said holding Arianne's hands as if she were a sister I haven't seen for years.

"Grabe miss na kita Fhadz!" Arianne replied, the surprise slowly sinking in.

"Kamusta ka na sir?" Kali asked me and I had this sudden urge to invite them over for coffee but only too suddenly, the sad gloomy face of my mourning wallet came to my mind. 

"Okay lang sir, nananaba!" I joked (well, not exactly). "Saan na kayo ngayon niyan?" I asked as people started crowding in our small area. I suddenly wished they'd be going home and that they would ride the MRT with me.

"Uwi na pero kain sana muna kami," Kali replied. How unfortunate.

"Ah sige, uuna na ako, gabi na," I said feeling disappointed. I really wanted to catch-up with these two. I wanted to know the happenings inside the senate with Kali's first hand stories; I wanted to know how Arrianne survived doing all the things she's doing as part of the wonderful crew of Showtime; how is it to work with Anne Curtis, Vhong Navarro and Vice Ganda. I wanted to patch the blank three years between us with their stories but it's just too late. They needed their privacy, of course, and I needed to go home.

"Sige, kita tayo ulit next time!" Kali said, shaking my hands. I looked back at Arriane and I saw the glimmer of sadness in her face. I was sad too. We hugged. Longer this time and more heart-felt. We stood there hugging, saying nothing, feeling at home to the comfort of our longed presence.

"Magbonding tayo please," I whispered not letting go. 

"Sige, next time wala nang gulatan," she smiled and let go. "Namiss talaga kita," she added and both of them waved their goodbyes. I returned the farewell. We moved our separate ways. 

I remembered when I told my gorgeous girlfriend on one of our precious bonding moments how I love meeting people unexpectedly. It was like God's way of telling me that I'm on the right track, that I'm on the right place at the right time. With that idea, I felt God's presence, and me springing His plans to action.

I could not wipe the smile off my face. I felt so happy. I was a few passengers away from the inspection booth when I saw a stranger by the corner smiling at me. He caught me smiling I presume, but he stepped closer and stretched his arms holding his MRT ticket. I got confused.

"Boy, kunin mo na to, hindi ko na gagamitin, hanggang North EDSA [station] yan," he said offering me his ticket. I took the MRT card from his hand. I looked at it and it's as if my mind had this split second delay that it took me awhile before I realized that I'd be having a free MRT trip that night. I looked back at the generous stranger who offered me his MRT ticket.

He was on his way to the stairs. I caught him looking back at me and I shouted back at him, "Maraming salamat po! Thank you po talaga! Ingat!" My heart was so moved.

I entered the MRT station using the ticket the stranger gave me. It worked and I praised God. I took the train waiting in the platform and I was day dreaming, looking back at the things that transpired at the MRT entrance. 

Everything happened in less than a minute. I met two of my dearest UST friends and an angel gave me the answer to my prayer. I then had enough money for my fare. Everything was so perfect, everything was so seamless, everything was in perfect timing. 

I once told my most beloved girlfriend back when I was still courting her, that she don't need to do anything to make our relationship work. I'll be the one to pamper her, care for her and love her. I told her that all that she needed to do is to sit down, relax and enjoy the show. I smiled. I felt God telling those exact words to me. I felt peace overflowing within my soul. God is the pilot of my life. He designed it Himself and all I need to do is to enjoy the surprise He has for me. What a life! God spoils me so much. God is making life so easy for me, that the world should know how great is He, our maker.

Many say God moves in mysterious ways but at times like this, His works are really that obvious, a give-away, a no-brainer. I marvelled at His works and I see Him really working in my life.

"A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.” (Proverbs 16:9)

My MRT ride went smoothly until the last station, my stop. As the train was slowing down, all the passengers seated stood up and went to the nearest exit. But before the train entered the station, the train stopped and shuts down. Delays like this happen but what happened next is so rare that I needed to blog it. 

Someone farted.

It's not an ordinary fart that one could politely pretend that never happened. It was thick, it was heavy and it filled the whole MRT train turning it into a deadly gas chamber. It was the kind of fart that once it gets into your nostrils, sticks to your palate that you could taste it. Everybody closed their nose. Some coughed and some revolted. "Anu ba yan! Grabe naman!" Even some opened the small MRT windows just so nobody would die. I could have thought of the scene as funny if only I weren't suffocating. I could have laughed ever so loudly if only weren't holding my breathe. And as the train moved, I felt hope rise within me and as soon as the MRT doors were opened, everybody ran to the nearest automatic gates of the MRT.

God is a drama, an action and a comedy director and He planned a masterpiece with your life. Just follow His lead and you'd surely be awarded an Oscar in heaven, best performer.

May God's love make you see the yellow-brick road to follow to heaven,

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

iLive

iLive

[19:23 Buendia Station]

He looked like a character from a Tim Burton movie, I was frightened.

  
I got soaked from running my way to the MRT station under the rain and as soon as I stepped into the MRT train, I nearly froze to death. One of the huge fluorescent lamps of the MRT flickered. It felt like I entered a scene from a horror movie. That's when I saw him sitting in the far end corner, the star of this horror movie. 

 He was wearing black long sleeves shirt with a human heart drawn in front (and a blade slicing through it), he was wearing a black shorts with chains dangling from it, his socks were striped which covered his knee down. His hair was that of Justin Beiber's with it's ends covering one of his bloodshot eyes--those scary, almost red, eyes highlighted by a thick line of eyeliner and decorated with facial piercing. He had his nails painted black, he wore black lipstick and his corpse-like paleness added an eerie effect to his eccentric look. I felt a terrible chill pinching my very spine (and I still do, narrating how he looked). I looked into his black sling bag and I tried reading the three letter word splattered on it. I then saw him looking straight at me, too sharply I bled. I almost died of heart attack.

He was an emo, as what was plastered in his black sling bag. A Goth, a weirdo, a dead-kid, as other categorized them. The "misunderstoods". And there's a small gap between him and a lady carrying a sleeping baby. The seat was small, yes, but I could not handle the cold dry wind blowing straight to my scalp. I needed to sit.

I smiled at him and then looked at the seat beside him, sending signals saying "I wanted that seat, please move." But none of the signals reached him. The other lady smiled at me and moved so I got to seat beside her, and this kid. I looked at him again. He sighed, I had goosebumps.

I can feel all the negativity rising from his very skin, casting a dark aura on the place. It felt like I was seating beside a Dementor (a ghastly magical creature from Harry Potter that looked like death and feeds on the happy, hopeful energies of human and wizards alike), sucking all the happy thoughts in me. I felt cold, I felt sad, I felt so alone.

I researched about emos back when the emo culture reigned supreme in the Philippines (that's when they haven't killed themselves yet) and as I found out, emos are these group of young people who carried all the sadness of the world. They hated life, they hated living. They spread negativity through their punk sad music, their all black clothing, their hairstyle and their lifestyle of pure self pity. They're sick and tired of living that they want to waste their lives living a life like their already dead. They waste away their lives spreading their hate doing nothing but dread about their problems and in most occasion, try to end their lives by cutting themselves. They wanted to die and all their hopes depleted because for them, nothing right would ever happen to them. They quit in the slightest ounce of trouble. They wanted to die, as what some of them said but for me, they just don't know what they really want. They shout to the world that they're just misunderstood but had they ever tried making people around them understand them? Emos looked like people in mourning in their all black outfits, and as a requirement, they should sport bandages on their arms and wrist as if it were expensive bracelets--something they're proud of. I hated it.

I did mention a few articles ago that negativity disgusts me. Well, emos makes me sick. But who am I to feel that way to someone God really loves?

I've known friends who were emos. I talked to them, I talked them out of their suicidal nature. I even forced myself to understand them and their petty problems but they claimed that no one can help them, that their problem is their own, making them a breed of selfish and self-centered bunch of kids. Some of them are Godless, even satanic. Yes, they may have the biggest problem in the world. Yes, they may be in the worst possible condition any man could be, but do they really believe they're the only one who has problems? 

Friends of God, Jesus died in the cross so that we could fill our problems with His presence, our every suffering with His sacrifice. If the world suddenly became hostile to you, remember that heaven will never abandon you. If all your loved ones failed to love you, remember that Jesus will always love you. To live our lives with God is like living our lives like we already live in heaven. Emos forgot all about Jesus' suffering. They're just too obsessed with their own, too selfish to know that they could not handle it alone.  They totally forgot about God's eternal love. They live a life already dying and if in this lifetime they wanted death, they chose death, there is no way God will grant them eternal life.

I felt scared. I didn't know my seatmate's problems but God does. I felt a great urge to pray for him. It was still cold so I had an excuse. I closed my fists, done a praying position, closed my eyes and prayed for my seatmate. I claimed heaven for him. I claimed God's love reigning in his heart, and Jesus' peace overflowing in his soul. 

"For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 6:23)

Everyday is a challenge designed by God to see if we're fit to live in heaven. And guess what God even sent to us the cheat code, the right answer to all the test and that is none other than Jesus Himself. We just need to follow Him.  We will go to heaven if we have Jesus in our lives to supply our every needs, a God to comfort us whenever were down, a Lord that reigns in our hearts and a king to rule our lives. Don't you ever wish for death. It's like slapping God, in His glory and power, right unto His face. Heaven is for the people who wanted life, who loves to live as hell is for the people who wished death. I choose life, for I live my life for God.

As soon as the train stopped at Araneta-Cubao station, my stop, I took a deep breathe, stood up and looked back at my seatmate. I heard my soul whisper, "I'll see you in heaven, friend of God!"

May God's love make your life heaven here on earth,

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

iBelong

[07:35 Quezon Ave]

It was musky and steamy (even sticky) inside the MRT train. And ironically, I was wearing a thick, black jacket (I was too lazy to take it off and it was too crowded inside the train, so I forced my self to believe). It's as if the air-conditioning system suddenly caught fire and was releasing deadly hot fumes rather than the cool dry wind it was supposed to discharge.  I was in agony. 

I had dizzy spells (I drank too much coffee that morning) and my feet felt like giving-up under my weight (I'm a 170 lbs., 5' 5" bulldozer you know. You do the math and you'd know I'm not small, especially down the waist).  I had my 30 minutes walk and I  perspired a lot. I tried focusing on the book I'm reading (Book of Psalms 31:1) but I could not make myself absorb the passages I was reading. I needed distraction to, at least, flush-out the idea that I was actually in a spa and the train suddenly turned into a Sauna. That is when I found something amusing. 

It was a couple, a few seats away from where I was standing. Both of them wore matching green shiny jackets looking rich in their Levi's jeans. The guy looked-like a cut-out from a modeling magazine and the girl looked well-off in her well pressed white shirt, or was it because she was playing with her iPad? Yes, that 9.56 x 7.47 x .5 inch black, high-end tablet of pure awesomeness. Yes, an iPad in the middle of the crowded train, filled with strangers, all dying to lay their hands in one of these beauties. Yes, I wanted one for myself but I can't afford one now. I just hope no thief sneaked-in our train and found the iPad interesting. 

I looked at their jackets and I understood then why these people had the guts to expose such precious things. Their jackets had a logo: A white star surrounded with embossed letters spelling the name of their university, capitalized and bold: De La Salle University. "Mayaman.." I blurted out. 

I had a sudden vision that if iPads were invented at least 100,000 years ago, God would have written His commandments on an one.  And at that idea, I imagined Moses holding the iPad, stretching his arms above his head, while the sinful Israelites covered the whole thing taking pictures and videos off the scene from their mobile phones. That was a crazy idea.

I took my eyes off that shiny black thing and tried looking at the people who was still marveling at the costly little machinery. There was another college student wearing casual clothing. She had eye glasses and she was carrying a plastic bag of pandesal. She looked rather ordinary until I looked closely. Her ID tangled from her neck with a maroon and green lanyard and my respect for her leaped as I read the name of the university she belonged to--University of the Philippines. "Matalino..." I said to myself.

Green archer and Fighting Maroon. Suddenly I became too eager to search the place for a touch of blue. There's a San Beda pin, a Letran jacket and finally, I saw a lanyard hanging from the neck of a well-groomed employee with his blue long sleeves completing the list of the top universities in the country: Blue Eagle. "Mayaman na matalino pa." I murmured. "Buti nalang ako, Thomasian. Magaling." I added.

Back when I sported a ridiculous haircut and I proudly wore the black, gold and white colors of my university (UST), I took the university rivalries with utmost seriousness that I decided to join my university's cheering squad. I loved the excitement whenever our team defeated the other team or when our cheers became so explosive that the other team could not take it, so they would sing along to our most famous cheer with the matching hand motion: "Go USTe! Go USTe! Go USTe! Go go go go!" It was heaven! It was really the best way to win friends from the different schools, but more so, enemies.

I love UP. I serve at the UP Campus Feast mission and I love the crowd there. But I have to admit that back when I was still part of the cheering squad of UST, I hated maroon so much because it reminded me of UP, our arch rival. I hated seeing UP Ikot jeepneys, I hated the oblation, I hated the people who came from UP and I even hated my friends. Thank God I grew-up from that nightmare.

I love Ateneo, my dream school. I also love La Salle ( I have tons of friends who graduated from Taft and Lipa). But I'm head-over-heels, madly, deeply in love with my university. For me, it's the best! I love the Thomasian life. I would even wear my university jacket for longer periods of time, skipping laundry for weeks on end just so I could flaunt my being a Thomasian. I belong to one of the best universities and I'm a proud Thomasian.

I wanted to give glory to UST by doing good whenever I could (especially when I wore the school jackets), may it be commuting or ordering a food in a fast food chain. It would give me great joy if somebody would tell me, "ang bait naman ng mga Tomasino" or "Buti pa mga Thomasian magagalang." But three years after graduation, I have forgotten most of these memories: the fanaticism, the excitement, the thrill. I am still a proud Thomasian, yes, but more than that, I am a proud Christian. 

I took my jacket off. The heat overwhelmed me already. And as I was taking it off, the lady seated in front of me looked at the thing that dangled in my neck and after months of wearing it, I looked at it, a crucifix. I suddenly realized the true reason why I wear this. I wear this crucifix because I belong to God. I wear this crucifix because I want people to know that I do great things because I have a great God. I wear this crucifix because I am proud of my God and that I am doing everything to make Him proud. This is the reason why I'm so eager to give God glory with my life, through my service and love. This crucifix reminds me that I have a mission, that I have to proclaim His righteousness, that I have to be a blessing to the world. Suddenly, I felt this aching desire to hear someone say, "God is good!" that "You're such a blessing Rex and I thank God for your presence."

"One by one, people will say, 'I belong to the Lord.' They will come to join the people of Israel. They will mark the name of the Lord in their arms and call themselves one of God's people." (Isaiah 44:5)

I belong to God, nothing can stand in my way; nothing can harm me and all that I do shall be for His greater glory. 

May God's love remind you that you belong to Him, 

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

iLove

[09:41 GMA-Kamuning]

It was a roller-coaster ride. 

I held on to the safety hand railings of the MRT as it sped its way to the next station. Using my other hand, I grabbed the hands of my beautiful girlfriend, Hanna Torres, but she pulled it back awkwardly. She bumped unto me as the train jerked and she held on to the sleeves of my jacket but quickly released her grip as if I was a hot potato. She looked at me sharply with total disgust and then rolled her eyes in complete frustration. I smiled. Deep inside me, I was dancing with joy and I was praising God. Those set of eyes never failed to set my heart on fire, I fell head-over-heels in love with her all over again. 

Yes, she was mad at me. For two days, she soaked me with all of her exasperation with me, that I was too busy to care for her, too preoccupied to talk to her, and at night, too sleepy to call her. She blamed it all on me, the games I play (Plant versus zombie is an addiction, sorry), the articles I write, the passion I have for my service, the work I do and the sleep I rarely have. And as I counted all the bad things she pointed out, I recalled the lessons I've learned in dealing with such arguments--girls always win. 

Gorgeous sons of God hear me out. Listen to what I believe in. You may cite your point, you may tell a girl your stand, you can even go to a lawyer for your defense but in a raging verbal war, believe me, girls always win. You can win a fist-fight with another man but you cannot win a verbal dispute with a girl. Why? Because you need to let them win. 

I'll tell you why.

I've realized that the fight isn't exactly about the work you do, the articles you write, or the games you play. She's not exactly mad at you because you're too busy, too lazy or too sleepy to care. Its actually about them missing you so badly! Look beyond the hate, read between the arguments and you'd see a sweet girl, dying to be with you, pointing out ever so clearly how she loves you and that you're important to her and that she needs you. Some guys fail to see that and ends up hurting both himself and the girl. Mistake. I thank God she's mad at me bacause I feel i'm still important to her. Thank God she still loves me for being angry with me. For me, it's always better that she's mad than not to be with her at all. At least, that's what I believe. 

That belief made me look at her with so much affection and love eventhough she looked like an angry cat ready to scratch her way out my face. That belief made me want to kiss her right there and then, in the busy, crowded MRT train that sunny Sunday morning.

I looked around. I caught some men looking at Krizia intently and I stared at them feeling over protective. They looked away. I looked back at Krizia. I melted. I blushed and she shrugged. I asked myself, "Man! Am I lucky or am I lucky?! Am I really with this lovely woman?!"

I stared at her. She glared at me. I stuck my tongue out just like what you'd do to make a baby smile. She looked away and sighed. I grabbed her face with both hands and tried forcing her to face me. She got her tongue out and I felt it touch my wrist. I quickly let go and wiped away the dampened part of my wrist with my handkerchief. We both laughed. 

I know. It's disgustingly sweet, but it's sweet nonetheless. God's love thrives in these kind sweetness and it makes me realize heaven really exists. At times like this, I feel God loving me, blessing me and I would not trade a million dollars for this precious few seconds with my lovely girlfriend. She will always be God's greatest blessing and we're on our way to the Feast to celebrate that eternal thanksgiving. Thank God I have Hanna for my girlfriend!

I again looked around. I saw an old couple just by the MRT door reading newspaper together. I saw another couple standing in front of them and then all of a sudden, I remembered all my friends who loved and got hurt loving, I remembered couples falling in love and breaking-up and I had this sudden urge to pray that our relationship may be as strong as those of the lovely old couple. A memory suddenly came into full view as I looked at the old couple. It was a memory of a good friend asking me, "how would you know if she's the one? How sure are you that you'd be together forever?" 

I remembered that friend going through a tough time with his girlfriend so he had all the right to ask me. At first, I was shocked and I found myself groping for the right words to say. I searched deep inside me and for a reason I didn't know, I blurted out, "I'm sure because I chose her to be the one."  

I used to believe in soulmates--the idea that there is that one perfect soul to complete you. And after all the teachings, all the lectures about love I've heard and read a thousand times over, I think I still do. The only difference is that I believe, God gave us soulmates ( and I emphasize the 'S' in the end), that we just need to choose who among all the God-given soulmates you'd be with. Our choices makes all the difference. And as I looked back at Krizia, away from the old couple, I murmured just below my breath, "I choose you, my love." I choose her because she's the best part of me. I choose her above all the soulmates God has prepared for me because, I love loving her. Make sense?

The overwhelming feeling overtook me. Suddenly, I didn't care if there are people looking at us, I didn't care if we're commiting a heinous crime, a serious case of PDA (Public Display of Affection). I again, grabbed her face, looked at her straight in the eyes and I kissed her in the forehead. "God, I love this girl!" I shouted in my mind and my heart exploded with love. In my stomach were butterflies munching on the remnants of the pancakes I ate that morning. She pushed me, looked at me and with a baby-like expression said, "Hmp! Hindi pa tayo bati!" I nearly laughed.

So how sure am I really? Simple. I'm sure because I made God the center of our relationship. We serve, we love, we praise God together. We shout to the world how great our God is and we pray for each other's needs. She's like my travel mate, my companion, as we journey through all the hardships of life and ultimately reach heaven together. For "Can two people walk together without agreeing on the direction?" (Amos 3:3). I don't think so! That's why we made heaven our goal.

I have faith that God will bless our relationship with everything He planned for us, as much as I have faith in Him. That simple. "What therefore God has joined together, let no man separate." (Mark 10:9). 

It was indeed a roller-coaster ride--fast, exciting, and fun. The kind that you'd be wanting to ride again once it's all over. God had the track planned carefully for us. The loops, the rising and the falling, the speed, the thrill, every tiny detail and I love Him for always giving me the best. And I think it's just fair to give Him only the best as I care, as I nurture this chance at love, this relationship I have with my girlfriend and through this, I give Him back His glory and supremely, make Him proud.

May God's love shower us with only the best things in our life,

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

P.S. Please pray for Hanna's family that they too may be blessed with at least a Sunday at the Feast very soon. For almost a year of service, Hanna never saw her family cheer for her in the audience. This poses a great problem for me and Hanna because for a non-Feast goer, our service is a complete waste of time.  I ask our loving PICC chorus family, my lovely CG mates and our friends to please pray for us as we invite Hanna's wonderful family to join us at the Feast. Thank you and God bless you.

P.S. To my gorgeous, loving and talented girlfriend Hanna Torres, happy 13th monthsary! I love you so much and thank you for the roller-coaster ride we're in.

iPerfect

[06:15 Araneta Center Cubao]

I had it all planned. Yet I’m stuck here in the most crowded station of the MRT, waiting for the jam-packed trains to arrive—everything deviant to the great plan I had. So much for the 3:30 AM “wake-up” alarm and my 6:00 AM time-in at work, it was all pointless.

I had a perfect schedule and I was excited to make it work. I woke up at 3:30AM as planned, did my lauds and praised God as scheduled; I dressed-up and was off to work just as I programmed myself I’d do. I then walked the usual 30 minutes stroll to the MRT and as soon as I reached North EDSA station, I was surprised to see just a handful of commuters. It was weird.

I expected a congested MRT lines. I had my mind set to an MRT teeming with early employees in a crazy Friday morning; expected the crowd to be packed more than the usual toes-inside-the-shoes-of-a-lotus-feet cramming. It was reported in the news the night before that more than half of EDSA would be closed for the EDSA People Power celebration that’ll be held in the middle of the streets for that whole day. “Wow,” I thought. They’d be partying in the busiest, most crowded and the most used street in the whole country in a weekday. God bless the employees!

As I reached the baggage inspection booth at North EDSA station, I saw people fleeing the place, looking ghastly as if somebody told them that a great fire burnt their houses down to the ground. I suddenly felt a tug in my heart. Yikes!

“Sira po ang mga trains natin at mamaya pa pong 10:00 AM maaayos.”

It was like hearing a judge sentencing you to a year of community service, cleaning MMDA’s proudest innovation—their pink urinals. A gasp escaped my mouth chased by a sigh of defeat. I’ll be late, that’s for sure. My workload measured a ton and I had activities piled-up for the day, all towering over me, like Goliath challenging me to a fist fight, with my hands tied-up my back—it was torment!

What a disservice to my perfect plan! I was near suing everyone for ruining them and I wanted to treat myself into a silent-treatment (I’ve heard it’s effective, to not talk to one’s self) for staying-up late, plotting a strategy to control the whole universe with a piece of paper, a pen and a watch. Just great!

I followed the disappointed swarm of people down that stairs, like an exodus gone horribly wrong. I stepped into the pavement and, just like the hundred others out on the street, I raised my hands hailing a bus to stop. But all the bus that came never stopped—they’re all full.

I advanced a few paces away from the mob at the station, hoping to seize a better chance of finding a bus but as I looked before me, a hundred more did just what I did. I paused. I sighed. My plan was a gone goose. Disappointment number 1: No MRT.

I looked at the piece of paper that held the great scheme that I had, trying to make it flexible with the recent disappointments that occurred. I asked, "What are the things I need to do to at least bring justice to my waking-up early?" I need to ride a bus to Manila International Airport (MIA). That’s a start. I waited, for awhile but none came. A minute was followed by another and for 10 minutes, not one came. Disappointment number 2: No bus.

 Maybe the busses traveled a different route because of the EDSA People Power celebration. Maybe they’re all waiting for passengers in Cubao. I looked at my watch; I was one hour late already. I looked at my wallet, and saw my last P20.00 bill. I was dumbfounded. How could I ride a bus that would travel the whole route from start to end with a P20.00. I opened my secret pocket and saw my emergency money intact. Thank God for emergency moneys!

I decided to ride an ordinary bus because it’s cheaper. One came, a bus going to Alabang. It stopped in front of me and all too suddenly, I felt people beside me braced themselves as they’d be battling their way in. It felt like I was in the middle of another People Power revolt.

I was in front so I was thrown inside the bus like a gate opened by an angry mob. I flew myself (given the momentum from the crowd) into an empty seat in front just beside the bus driver. And as I sat, I heard a clicking sound before my ear. It was the bus conductor punching holes in the tiny pieces of paper—my ticket. I was exactly beside him and as I grab my wallet to pay for the ride, the punched pieces of papers rained down on me like confetti. I paid P9.00 and we’re on our way.

It was a stressful ride. I found out that the driver was not actually a bus driver but a plane pilot as he flew the bus as if it had wings! I caught myself holding unto the edge of my seat as my eyes frantically searched for a seat belt to strap myself with to no avail. I saw my life flashed before my eyes. I was scared.

The bus flew with such speed that it felt like my soul jumped out of my body. What made it worse was that the bus would stop abruptly in front of every human being crowding the sidewalks. It stopped and it flew, stopped and again flew, I felt puking!

Very soon, I saw the Araneta Center Station of the MRT. We were speeding that way when I heard a familiar rumbling, chugging sound above us. I looked out the window and there it was, my beloved MRT on its full-operational glory propelling towards Cubao station. Wow! I felt my face burn with rage.

The bus stopped by the MRT station in Cubao and I staggeringly alighted. I felt anger swelling up inside me. I climbed the stairs and as soon as I reached the MRT platform, I loose-heart seeing all the people that flooded the area. But weird enough, something inside me felt right. It made me feel at peace, amidst these troubles, amidst the disappointments, I felt so free.

I remembered my beautiful girlfriend Krizia telling me on one of our dates that she wanted everything to be perfect for our wedding. “But nothing here on earth is perfect.” I told her. And at that moment, I heard myself telling that same thing to me.

“Nothing on earth is perfect.”

I may have a great formula to solve all my problems that day. I may have a well organized schedule to finish all the pressing concerns that was bothering me. I may have a wonderful plan to conquer all the troubles I needed to go through but none of these are perfect.

Only God is perfect. Only God’s will is perfect.

I remembered Jesus praying, kneeling in a garden one cold night a few minutes before the centurions captured Him and ultimately died the day after: "… 'Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done'" (Luke 22:41-42)

That moment, I claimed that whatever problem I may have, whatever trouble I may encounter, however difficult it may be, God will make everything right as long as I surrender to His perfect will.

I came to that conclusion as I heard the train coming as people pressed themselves to each other. I believed. I felt excited. The plan I had was indeed pointless. For God already has this great plan for me. It suddenly occurred to me, maybe God wanted me to take the bus to save me from whatever technical problem the MRT may have that time. Maybe God made sure that I won’t ride a MIA bus so that I could ride the MRT. Maybe God designed the speed of the bus so that I may arrive at this platform this very moment and everything felt so perfect I wanted to cry. I was excited for I know, as long as I believe in Him, everything would turn-out to be perfect, jus as He is perfect.

May God’s perfect love make you see the perfect plan He has for you,

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

iProclaim

[19:11 Buendia station]

It was a terrible list.

I looked at my notes again, aching to see at least one positive comment but there was none. Looking at it again only made the raging storm within me roar.  

Terrible. I looked around, eager to see something worth while, like searching for light inside a tiny dark box. But I was blinded by darkness. I felt too lazy and tired to search. What was happening to me?

Exactly one week ago, I made it a habit to always list down every good thing that made my MRT trip unique and worthwhile--squeezing salvation out of the weirdest places. Every tiny detail, even the slightest speck of positivity that made me smile, would go into the list and I'd scribble it down my blue notebook.  I would then use this list to weave a jubilant article to publish in my blog. But yesterday (my gloomy, dark yesterday) was completly different  (*sigh*).

I need to say that the past week has been, so far, the most stressful, dreadful week I had this 2011 (Yes. Stressful and dreadful combo). My tasks at work piled-up beyond any reasonable comprehension (and it was raining negative feedbacks), my finances  reduced   to smithereens (to the point  of  buying siomai from siomai house (my favorite) would be suicide), my relationships  were in  shambles and worst, my spiritual life  was under siege (I heard  whispers   from God-knows-what, challenging my Catholic   faith, drowning me with guilt and choking me with shame). And what made it worst was that, I didn't care! I felt too lazy and tired to care. I have so many things to do, so little time and worse, no will to do it, no drive to pursue it. I had   no hope, I felt  so burned-out.

I looked around again and checked the list if I missed anything: the irritating girl laughing by the MRT door, check; the huge guy (who looked familiar) behind me towering over me, covering my light source, check; the old lady sitting in front of me who seemed to know all the bad news in the world, making personal complaints and bombarding his husband with all these negative things, check; the old lady's husband who failed to give a little nod to confirm if he  was hearing anything (maybe he's used   to all the complaining) looking indifferent, check. Negative vibes. I inhaled   a huge amount of air and heaved a gigantic sigh and as if it were a cue in a movie scene, a rotten smell invaded my nostrils. Ugh! Someone farted! I saw the girl beside me held her handkerchief and hastily putting it on her face, protecting her nose. I envied her, wished I too had  a handkerchief.

Negativity disgusts me. And yesterday, I was totally disgusted with myself.I knew there was a problem. I didn't know what it was. I didn't know how to win over it. I just knew it was lurking deep inside me.

There was a great turmoil inside me, deep within me. I was thinking bad thoughts about... everything. I was looking at the world through angry, irritated, agitated, anxious eyes and as if my whole being was shouting, crying in rage. I didn't know what's happening to me and it wasn't nice. I was miserable.

I remember  this familiar feeling  (not exactly but same) when I was still a  Journalism student. I was holding too much responsibilities in my hands during those times that I wanted to throw everything out--my studies, my extra-curricular activities, my faith, everything. I hated life then and I was kind of feeling the same way yesterday (again, not exactly but the same). And as I recall, what I usually do was list down all the things that I needed to finish (maybe I'm just too overwhelmed with all these responsibilities in my mind at once, crowding my perception), all the problems I needed to resolve and all the important things that I needed to remember. I tried doing it, mapping and planning my next move’ perhaps. I wanted everything to be in order, I wanted my plan to be fool-proof, to be perfect, to work.  

I started to feel excited all of a sudden. I was comforted by the sudden burst of hope that came from nowhere and I felt that this is the blessing, the gift-wrapped present, to write until I heard someone whispered.

"Sigurado ka? Hindi ba pagmamayabang yan?"

 It was not a physical whisper that reached my ear. It was something that struck my very soul. It made me feel bad again so I tried shoving it off my mind. But it came back, this time with more conviction.

"Akala mo magaling ka? Hindi ka ba nahihiya sa mga sinusulat mo?"

I felt so fragile I wanted to cry. I felt so insecure. Yes. I do feel rusty. I read my other six passages and I knew my grammar professors would kill me. These works coming from a Journalism student?! It's unacceptable! I do understand that I still need to enhance whatever talent I have in writing. The very least, I'm doing my best, trying to bless others with these short stories. The whisper answered back.

"Nagyayabang ka hindi ka nagbe-bless. Sino niloko mo? Hindi ka na nga marunong magsulat, mali pa intentions mo."

I was in pain. It felt like a baseball bat hit my very core. Suddenly, I didn't feel like blogging anymore. It felt like I just wanted to quit even that. I felt so ashamed. Guilt engulfed me like darkness turning day into night. I was in shock. But the whisper continued.

"Gusto mo pa ba trabaho mo? Di ba hindi na? Pano mo sosolusyunan ang mga problema mong dahil sa katamaran kung ganyan ka katamad? Tingin mo yayaman ka pa with that kind of attitude? Mamamatay kang mahirap! Mahiya ka sa girlfriend mo! San ka na ngayon kukuha niyan? Aasa ka nalang ba lagi sa mga mahal mo sa buhay? Nakakahiya ka! Yan tuloy, iniiwan ka na ng magulang at kapatid mo. Asan sila ngayon? Anong ginagawa nila? Hindi mo alam diba? Hindi sila nagte-text? Ikaw ba nagpaparamdam man lang? Busi-busihan ka kasi masyado sa service eh matanong kita? Naniniwala ka ba sa mga naririnig at nababasa mo? Bat ka nagkakasala pa din? May maganda bang naitutulong sa iyo yan? Anu naman napupulot mo? Kaibigan? Weh? Talaga lang ah? Mas maganda sana kung yung ginagastos mo sa pagpapakaraya sa service eh sana sa mga magulang mo nalang binibigay diba? Nakatulong ka pa! At grabe ka kung makapagserve! Karapat-dapat ka ba? Parang hindi ka nagkakasala ah! Alam mo kung gaano kadumi ang mundo mo. Alam mo ding wala ka nang kawala sa mga addictions mo! Hindi ka na makakawala sa kasalanan!"  

  

It was a cresendo of the bad things that's been bothering me and it was rising into a deafening explosion. I wanted to cover the ears of my soul when I had the sudden urge to shout. 

"Teka, sino ka ba?!" I retorted. I decided that before these harsh words sink into my conciousness, I needed to know where these whispers were coming from. I smiled. 

It is easier to fight an enemy if you know what you are dealing with , as what I've learned. I knew. There was a sudden pause within me and I was suddenly thrown back by my realization: Wait! I have a God, and my God loves me and He will never abandon me and that great things will happen to those who trust and love Him.

I closed my eyes and felt His presence. I imagined Him coming to me and I came to Him running. I hugged Him ever so tightly and at last, I felt peace.

The whisper was gone but I knew there remained the entity who tried to poison me. I'm eager to let it drink it's own poison.

"I have a God who forgives. I have a God who loves. I have a God who never loses hope, why should I lose hope? I have a God who laughs with me when I'm happy and a God who cries with me when I'm sad. I have a God who carries me when I can't carry my burden alone anymore. I have a God who died a painful death to save me from sin, to save me from you and your snares. And lastly, I have a God who wins every battle, I have a victorious God and He will equip me with faith sharp enough to puncture you dead. At the end of time, God will reign supreme. Pasensiyahan tayo."

Before I opened my eyes, I heard cute giggles. I opened my eyes and saw the girl by the MRT door. She wasn't irritating anymore. The towering figure behind me moved, and as soon I looked at him I thought I was looking into the eyes of Bro. Alvin Barcelona (they looked alike it scared me!). I was smiling when I looked in front of me. I saw the old lady listening to her husband's joke too intently and as they laugh, I saw sparks in their eyes. Oh my God! I realized,   I was not searching for a light inside a tiny dark box, as I initially thought. I just forgot to open my eyes.  

Why didn’t I write these things in my booklet? I took out my blue notebook, fumbled through the   pages and came across a biblical passage I wrote weeks ago:

"Give thanks to the LORD and proclaim His greatness. Let the whole world know what He has done." (Psalm 105:1)

   

It didn't sound like bragging to me. What do you think?

May God's love protect you spiritually, emotionally and spiritually,

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

P.S. To my CG mates, the best CG ever (TGIW), if your reading this, please pray for me. Makikita ko din kayo soon. 

P.S. I need to thank with all my heart my two lovely friends, Micah Sula and Yeng Gugol for thoroughly  washing the germs out so that the gems could stand-out. You guys are great blessings.

P.S. Comments and suggestion you can visit http://makeourjesusproud.blogspot.com/