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/

iRemember

[08:47 North avenue station]

It was like a surprise gift-wrapped present from God.

The passengers were filling-in every bit of space in the cramped MRT ticket booths. And I imagined the oxygen depleting over the heads of the perspiring passengers that I suddenly had the urge to take one deep breath as if plunging into a deep pool. It was a cold morning but I totally forgot about it as I tried  to rummage for the softest whisper of the wind to blow dry my sweat-soaked face, but none came. The MRT staff and the guards declared that there weren't enough trains in operation and we needed  to wait for the next train to arrive. Only too suddenly, the guy beside me raised his arms as if trying to free himself from the clutches of an invisible giant and I found my face a few millimeters away from his armpit. This is indeed the worst way to start a day.

I overslept. I also got out of the chapel near our condo later than scheduled (I go there every morning to greet my most beloved friend before going to work) and the delay  at the  was  making me imagine the memo waiting for me at the office, seating at my desk, waving its pale-yellow corners at me in-sync with the cold wind blowing from the air conditioning unit above. Great! I looked at my watch. By this time, I should be at the other end of EDSA. I maneuvered my bulky self away from the armpit that was mocking me until finally, a train came and the guards started checking every bag with their sticks, touching the passengers' "love-handles" (I don't know who coined the term or why they called it love-handles but these are the soft flabby parts at your back just above your waist) as people marched into the MRT platform. I felt a little squeeze in my love-handles when my turn to be inspected came and as soon as I got into the platform, I ran to the nearest MRT door but there's just too many passengers.

I looked, here and there, trying to look busy; resisting the urge to look at my watch too frequently. I took some pictures to publish with this blog and as I was looking at my cellphone's screen, I saw her.

She looked familiar but as I looked closely, she seemed too mature and too pretty (even model-like) compared to the person I knew. She's a completely different version so to speak. I stared at her and I had this strangest feeling that I needed  to catch her glance, just to check if she knew me. I looked intently and as if sensing a threat, she looked at me sharply. Our glances met. She smiled and I awkwardly moved my hands into a tentative wave. I saw the glare in her eyes and she shouted as if we're the only person in that platform, "FHADZ!!!!"

She came to me running and I greeted her with a tight, sincere and heart-fattening hug. It happened so fast. She felt like a complete stranger in my arms and as on-lookers passed by looking at us with much envy (she's a real looker, mind you), all the memories came flooding in.

She's Joyce Yu, one of the prettiest students in our college batch at the University of Santo Tomas. The last time I saw her was on our graduation day at the PICC plenary hall (exactly where the PICC Feast is held ever Sunday) three years ago. Three years, I told myself. 2008. Not too long ago but it felt like a hundred years have passed. As soon as our excitement withdrew, the next train came and we decided to ride together.

I didn't know where to begin. I wanted to ask her so many things and I didn't know what question should come first.

She started telling me about her life after college: where she worked, how she broke-up with her former boyfriend, how well our other classmates were doing, and finally, she answered the question that was bothering me--she's now a proud mother! She excitedly showed me the pictures of her lovely nine month old daughter who looked exactly like her and in my mind I, blurted out "Grabe! Maraming papaiyaking lalaki tong batang to paglaki!." I smiled at the thought.

She then asked me "Kamusta na kayo ni Marianne? (my ex-girlfriend)"

I smiled and said, "Ayun, masaya na siya with her boyfriend. Pero feeling ko mas masaya ako ngayon with Krizia my girlfriend. As in super!"

I really am happy and I wanted to uplift her but she looked gloomy, even sorry that she brought the topic.

"Ay sorry, hindi ko alam," she looked at me sadly and I tried to remember what happened to that dark part of my life.

I shared five years of my life with Marianne. Five long years filled with excitement and uncertainty, fun and emptiness, love and faithlessness (Yes, I did forget that God existed during that time. I even proclaimed He doesn't exist. It was like everyday, I got to choose my own religion, like a food from a menu. Sad, dark college days). She used to be everything: my world, my universe and every bit of me longed to be with her. But things change (thank God things changed for the better). She found someone she thought would really make her happy, I was left alone with a broken heart. She moved unto her boyfriend's apartment, I moved on with my life. She's been through thick and thin with her boyfriend, I met the best friend I wished I had, the girlfriend that I could ever love and the lady that I want to spend my whole life with. I am happy. God wanted me to be happy and I was thanking God. The pain I endured during the break-up (I was about to propose to my ex-girlfriend a few months before the break-up) was unthinkable; unimaginable even. But as I looked back, my heart leaped with joy and shouted great praises. As what Bro. Bo Sanchez said "Your greatest problems will always be your greatest blessing." Thank God Marianne left me in shambles!

Joyce and I talked about our lives; all three years we missed. I used to share a lot of petty, mushy and corny stuff back when we were wearing our fading school uniforms but after three years, those sharing seemed nonsensical to the gravity of things that took hold of us after college. This is the real deal, the real life. And what seemed constant in everything we shared was that things change. I thank God for granting me the wisdom to understand that whatever situation I'm in, whether in pain or in rejoicing, God wanted something better for me that He planned every change in my life. As I claim that thought, it gave me the impression that everything changes for the better, to those who love God.

It took us almost an hour and a half before we reached Joyce's stop, 45 minutes later than the usual travel time. But I felt so blessed I wished it went longer. When it's her time to go out, we exchanged phone numbers, wished great things, and hugged like we'll never let go. Seriously, seeing her made my whole day extra special. I forgot about the memo, I forgot about being late, I even forgot the armpit that I nearly kissed. We let go and promised to have a reunion soon and I felt excited. We finally hugged once more and I thanked God for friends and then, something took hold of me. She went out the train and almost instantly, I felt the presence of other commuters (I really thought we're the only couple in the train) but I was too busy clearing my thought to what I think was a revelation.

We all know that the only constant thing in this world is change. Yes, all things change here on earth but there are yet things un-worldly that even time cannot mold and that is love. Time may change your looks, improve it for some just what happened to Joyce; time may open your eyes to God's love and to happiness just what happened to me; time and distance could even separate two lives but it could not separate love. Love is immortal; it knows no boundaries.

"Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love". (1JOHN 4:8)

Joyce is no stranger to me for we have shared love.

Change may be constant in our lives but love will always be constant in our soul.

Joyce will always be a great friend for we shared love, we shared God.

May God's love make your relationships stronger,

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo
Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

MRT 

iLike

[19:07 Taft avenue station]

Common eye.

My friends at work coined that term to describe my knack of seeing things differently--what looked ugly to others actually looked beautiful to me. It's as if God designed my eyes hypersensitive to beauty that even the slightest ounce of beauty makes even the ugliest acceptable. I'm proud to have such ability but it could turn into the worst of skill sometimes.

I have a confession to make.

I can't resist the temptation of staring at beautiful things, may it be a majestic scenery or someone else's face. If some pretty face passes    by, I need to muster all my energy just to resist looking at her again. I know it's rude to stare but I can't help it. Thank God I have one of the most beautiful ladies  in the world as my girlfriend who deserves my full undivided attention. That gives me motivation to quit staring whenever I catch myself staring but it's a learning process. It's really great that I got to practice everyday in the MRT, and yesterday was no difference.

I was a little late so it wasn't too crowded. I got the chance to see a clearer picture of the whole scheme: it was an MRT platform turned catwalk as pretty girls from different walks of life, different backgrounds  and different lifestyles strut their beauty into the MRT trains. They make life complicated for most men as their heads jerk and spin just to catch a glimpse of these women's overwhelming beauty. I must know. I watch them regularly, how these head-turners enslave the male MRT goers. Few of them entered the front most part of the train and I followed suit. 

There were at least four extremely pretty girls on that part of the MRT: One was a student with an angelic face worthy of a magazine's front cover; there was also an employee with her officemate, both of them looked like celebrities ,  sporting wonderful braids , they had their eyelashes fixed to perfection and their porcelain-like complexion that could make any baby   envious; and there was also a lady who looked like a supermodel in her eye glasses, jeans and white shirt. I found some seats unoccupied so I helped myself to one but later gave it to an elderly carrying extra heavy luggage. In an instant there was a staring-war inside the train as men tried every tactic just so they could stare. I saw one wearing shades (at night, mind you) but was facing the cute student by the door. Another pretended to read newspaper but had his eyes fixed on the employees. One had his eyes closed as if trying to sleep but I caught him slightly opening them just to catch sight of the lady in jeans standing in front of him. It was funny!

Wonderful and beautiful daughters of God hear me out! Look at how you can enslave men, strong and powerful, just by your presence. I smiled. I remember a text message I got from a friend that morning saying, “God made woman beautiful and foolish; beautiful, that man might love her; and foolish, that she might love him." I was so intent on watching how these men try all their luck just so they could fill their lives with their presence that I failed to see the old lady in front of me, standing with his enormous baggage dangling from her fragile arms. Ironically, a young man was seating in front of her, enjoying the seat that, I thought, was righteously hers. I sighed. All I can do was to help the old lady carry her things. 

"Nay, ako nalang po?" I asked politely. 

"Ay sige, okay lang." She obliged and just before she could finish her sentence, a girl seating in front of me stood up and with that lovely smile she said, "Sige lola, upo po kayo." 

I moved a little making way for the girl and the old lady.

"Thank you!" the old lady said with a sigh of relief. 

I was dumbstruck with her kindness and her willingness to sacrifice for the sake of a complete stranger. I praised God. It was like seeing a miracle! I felt so blessed! I smiled. I also caught myself praying and thanking God for, amidst this chaotic life we live, such kindness still exists. I also prayed that the man comfortably seated beside the old lady would be moved the sacrifice the girl did. Suddenly, the pretty student lost her allure; the gorgeous employees weren't striking anymore and the lovely lady in jeans failed to outshine the beauty of this lovely girl standing beside me. She didn't have the perfect hair, the gorgeous dress, even the wonderful complexion the other four had. She looked chubby in her pink worn-out dress and faded jeans but everything about her looked lovely. Even her cheap phone looked like a brand new iPhone 4 in her hands. I was honouring every bit of her. She suddenly looked so pretty in my eyes that I wondered why didn't I see  her pass by me. She was wonderful and I couldn't help but admire her. She made me feel I was home until it hit me. 

I took a pen, grabbed a post-it and wrote:

And as I write, I imagined her serving God with that quality of kindness and joy she just  showed the old lady, I saw her serving in the Feast as an usher, I imagined her being part of the wonderful family I belonged to and I felt so excited for her. It was like the best thing to do so I took the post-it, pasted it in the one last postcard I have from the Feast and waited for my stop. 

I was two stations away from my stop when I felt fear overcoming me. All of a sudden, giving her the post card felt like a bad idea. I was shaking and I found myself breathing deep breathes. It wasn't easy as I've expected. It felt like I'm asking some stranger for her number, it felt like introducing yourself to a crush and I was so frightened that I actually hid the postcard in my bag. But I knew I had to do it so as soon as the door opened at my stop (Araneta center Cubao) I took one deep breath, gave the girl post card and said, "Miss nahulog niyo ata."

It was awkward, yes, but that's the only thing I had in mind. It felt really corny and looking back I felt this aching urge to commit suicide. Deep inside I was shouting "NAKAKAHIYA!" but I did it anyway. Shame held me by the neck and it was gripping hard. But her reaction caught me off balance--she just smiled. She could have said "ay hindi po akin yan" but, as if expecting it, she looked at the postcard and smiled. I didn't look back. I was so ashamed of what I did but moments later, it felt great! 

"For we are taking pains to do what is right, not only in the eyes of the Lord but also in the eyes of man." (2 Corr 8:21)

May God's love open our eyes to the beauty of the world, 

Rex Van Carlo Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

iCount

[18:12 Taft Station]

I hate sad stories but there's always the first time (and hopefully the last).

I counted feet that passed by as I wait for the next train to arrive. I was looking down—defeated and gloomy. I was demented. I was numb all over and I was suddenly looking for the pain that should be there, aching to feel human again. But not a single jolt of emotion came. All I knew was I'm dead tired. Boy was I tired.

As the train stopped in front of me, and strangers staggered to free themselves from what seemed to be a cage of torment, I came face to face with my reflection—a sad little figure, a failure, foolish and worthless. I was the last one to enter the train but I didn't care how tiny the space that was left for me. I was an empty shell, lifeless and hopeless. I sighed a deep dark sigh and surprisingly, no praises to God ensued.

Have you ever experienced the emptiness of knowing that you're a disappointment to everyone you love? That you're perfect, wonderful life was just a dream you chose to believe? Have you lost all hope for yourself, lost all the courage to take the chance to make things right again? I was suddenly questioning the very fibber of my existence, my purpose, my life. I went on and on, counting all the dreadful things one could think for himself. I wanted to feel pain.

I looked at the window and suddenly, the setting sun shinning across the Pasig river (Guadalupe station) that used to flood my very soul with God's love lost it's majesty. I've always praised God for such beautiful things but this time, not one word came. I counted happy faces in the towering billboards along EDSA and caught myself cursing them for plastering such joyful jubilation when I'm here, loosing every happiness I have to such monstrosity. I was depressed.

I went on counting all the bad things in my life, making me miserable: how I hated my job, how poor I was, how can't I provide my parents' needs, how disappointing I am to their eyes, how disgraceful I was as a brother, how huge my debts were, how dependent I am to my girlfriend's graces, how irresponsible I was, how much trouble I'd cause the people I love... it went on and on as if not one great thing happened in my past, poisoning my present and spoiling my future. I was sad.

Araneta station Cubao went and as soon as I stepped in the platform I felt my feet weakened beneath my weight. It's as if I was carrying a heavy load. I walked but my usual fast strides became tiny, heavy baby steps. I looked at my feet, and counted my steps. I heard murmurs from the people behind me, angry curses flying from the people that were overtaking me and I decided to stop, search for a seat and continue the dreadful manner I look at my life.

I found an empty bench and sat. Trains passed by, people came and went, crowd and empty the platform but no thought came to my mind, no feeling swept my heart. I was late for an appointment but I didn't care. I was eager to search inside me, to at least explain what was happening to me, but all I felt was the echoing emptiness, the blinding darkness and the hallow soul I have inside. I closed my eyes and decided to pray. I didn't feel praying but I still closed my eyes, took deep breathes and tried reaching out to God.

“Who am I Lord to question Your authority, Your power and Your will in my life? Who am I God to reason things with You? You who created everything in perfect majesty and glory, You who planned every beginning and end, You who made me... Lord what wisdom I have to match Your unending greatness?” And as the asking ensued, from the darkness within me, I saw a cross. It narrowed down and I saw Jesus, blood gushing forth His wounds, blood running down His majestic face, His hair drenched by blood and sweat. I felt the tremendous pain He felt. I was wishing for some hurt to overtake me but nothing prepared me for the pain I felt looking at him. The deafening silence within me was tore down by a thunderous roar of pain, hate and defeat as I saw Jesus, my God and saviour shout with everything that He had “FATHER! WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!”

Tears run down my cheeks. I wanted to breakdown there and then but as soon as I opened my eyes, I saw people looking at me. I grabbed some tissue inside my bag and continued to sob. I cried. I was in so much pain. The hurt swelled inside me like a gas tank exploding. I cried but I found myself smiling. I felt God beside me. I felt Him hugging me. I felt my God crying with me.

We may have problems in our lives, problems so intense we wished we never lived. We may have sinned and caused trouble to others, we may live worthless lives but God has given us the chance to follow Him, do His will, embrace His unending love and make Him proud. And as soon as we surrender everything to Him, He promised to make everything right, He will make sure that you'll have everything you need and He will make you proud that He's your God. Whatever your worries, how much pain you're enduring, God will make everything right.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5)

He will be the one to guide you, protect you, provide for you. All you need is to trust Him. You need not know how He'll lift you from the pain, He moves in mysterious ways. All you need the fact that sooner or later, He will lift you from that pain.

Really. God is love! For good things happen to those who love Him.

I wiped the last tear in my eye. I took a deep breathe and smiled and after a long stressful day, I praised God. I didn't know the solution to my problem, I didn't even know what to do or where to start. But I stood from the bench, took another deep breathe and believed God will make things right as I surrender to His will.

Before I took one step, I looked around me. The sun cast a wonderful orange abstract painting in the sky, it's farewell for the day. I saw a happy couple running down the platform holding hands and I thanked God for everything, even the pain I had and whispered “Lord, into Your hands, I commend my spirit...”

May God's love makes you see Jesus in every situation you're in,

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

iFell

[15:28 Guadalupe station]

I fell in love with him.

It was unusually hot inside the crowded MRT on a Sunday afternoon but his presences suited me. I haven't had enough sleep and passing out would be a blessing but I would trade a comfy little seat just to stand in front of him. My most beloved girlfriend, Krizia, seated next to him but I didn't care, I just stared at him. And deep inside, I was resisting the powerful urge to hug him, kiss his cheeks and wish the stars and the moon for him.

He looked at me with that huge, round eyes so innocent I praised God. He batted his eye lashes and was playing "beautiful eyes" at me and I responded with my own version (mine didn't looked beautiful at all). He suddenly looked away but I caught him slowly looking back at me and did the "beautiful-eyes" again. I doubled my effort in making that "beautiful-eyes" (to no avail) but I saw his stare focused at me. My beautiful Krizia looked at both of us and smiled. Thank God we have the same taste!

Since my "beautiful-eyes" didn't work, I did my cross-eye technique. No use. He just stared. I did it again and this time I mockingly slipped my tongue out of my lips. He stared. My pretty girlfriend resisted the thunderous laughter she had boiling inside her. I know. I looked funny.

Yeah, yeah, I'm feeling you're sentiment. "Nababakla na ba si Rex?!" No, I didn't turn gay all of a sudden. Our Sunday trip home was blessed by a baby. An angel one year of age, bald, has no teeth and he was wearing diapers. At his age, he already mastered the art of making bubbles out of his own saliva (man! Wish I could make bubbles out of my saliva and people would find it cute). He has this irresistible chubby cheeks and that eye lashes that could make any one melt with one wink and I caught myself asking, how could a small human being hypnotize a crowd with a toothless grin?

And so I remembered, "...and calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, "Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. "Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea." (Matthew 18:2-6)
We have heard numerous lectures and sermons on this verse but I took another view. A child has this innate potential to inflict the positivism, the exaltation of life and the joy of living to any mortal he/she encounters. Babies have innocence--that and their complete surrender to their parents (coupled by their drop-dead-cuteness) are like small glimpses of heaven. God's unending love and grace radiates from these lovely children. I longed to have that "child-like" powers (and cuteness of course). I longed to inflict that contagious positivism to the world, that complete surrender to my maker and that child like aura that gives joy and peace to the people I meet. And through God's grace, I know I will be equipped. God really wants me to make Him proud.

So there I was, eager to make the baby smile. I did all the tricks, I know until I decided to do something weird, something I've never done before--a combo. So I crossed my eyes, slipped my tongue out of my lips and batted my eyes in that hideous "beautiful-eyes". I felt dizzy but as soon as I regained my focus, I was swept by that breathtaking smile.

God, You're so great!

At last! A smile! I saw my amazing girlfriend Krizia giggle and I imagined my God laughing in heaven. The baby, the girl and THE almighty.

Rex Mollo, three points!

I looked funny, I felt dizzy, but man! Was I happy!

May God's love make the child in you smile,

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo
Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

iServe

[19:06 Ayala Station MRT]

 I was faced with the hardest decision I have to make for the day.

To start off, I need to tell you that I timed-out of work with a terrible tummy ache. I probably over ate (as I normally do) during my break. I maybe even took bad food during lunch and it didn't fit well inside my stomach. But whatever caused it, it was killing me. It took me a lot of effort just to keep standing straight. 

I was also sleepy. I just slept my whole bus ride from the airport to the MRT station at Taft (and nearly missed my bus stop) and my body was aching for more. But before I stepped inside the MRT I expected the worst, until I saw my destiny.

My destiny was a tiny gap between an employee and a student, a flash of blue, shinny and clean so beautiful it made me cry--an empty seat. Some MRT goers could relate to me, the rare occasion of finding an empty seat during the rush hour. It was a miracle.

I rushed to that seat before anyone does. And as I planted my aching behind in that cozy little seat, the warning sound of the closing doors rang. I then saw acrobats flew towards the closing doors and perfectly landing inside the train with just a millisecond spared them from a terrible accident. I restrained myself from giving them a standing ovation. They really amaze me. How can they do that? The speed, the agility, the accuracy, wow! I tried doing it once and I only got my face flat in the closed MRT door (and like a xerox machine, my face was copied by my facial oil still clinging in the glass doors). The guard scolded me and I was red all over as a thunder of laughter ensued inside the MRT train. The thought made me laugh. 

The MRT moved, I closed my eyes and I was catching my sleep when after few minutes, the train slows down the next station---Magallanes. Like raging water, people rushed in the MRT car and as soon as the door closed, everything felt familiar. It was the sardines-like feeling where in you're pressed down to each other and even the smell, it smelled like a newly opened sardine can. These are the times I wish I had a car and as I looked down the crowded EDSA, I took my wish back. It was as if I felt the drivers that were trapped in EDSA looked at the MRT saying "Sana nag MRT nalang ako di sana hindi ako natrapik dito." I smiled and praised God. The MRT went and a few minutes later, it was slowing down again. 

The Ayala station came to view and some MRT goers know that this is the point where in you need to pray at least one “Hail Mary” and an “Our Father” for the souls of the people that will be crushed by the incoming stampede. It was like re-living the people power in EDSA as people braced themselves behind the opening MRT doors. And as soon as it opened, it was as if a tank run over them and I found myself not only praying for the people being crushed but for everyone's lives that no harm may fall unto us. As I pray, I looked for my cellphone, propped the headphones in my ears and played music and as I looked, two ladies found their way and stood in front of me. 

It was no-brainer. If a lady or an elderly is standing up inside a bus or in the MRT, I'll give them my seat; sick, sleepy or tired, I’d still give them my seat. I've given myself to that kind of service years ago and I can honestly say I'm loyal to that calling. What bothered me was that there's two of them and only one me. The nearest girl was a petite, cute looking employee with her curly hair falling down her shoulders. She's carrying a large paper bag (well it looked large in her hands) and a handbag. She tried reaching for the hand railings, stretching her arms but her fingers barely touched it. The other girl was a skinny barista, also carrying a paper bag and a back pack hanging loosely in her back and from the looks of it, she's suffering from dysmenorrhoea. She was pale and her face contracts as she put pressure in her belly. 

The church teaches us that our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit. By that, I've always believed that God is living within each and every one of us. However sinful we are, however righteous, whatever color, whatever race, God is living in us. As I claim that belief, my eyesight cleared and my heart opened to every people that I meet. For when I look at them, I don't see a man or a woman, old or young, normal or deviant, I see God. I see Jesus. 

I've also given myself in service to God and that service is not just singing or worship in church; It's not just reading the good news, the scriptures; it's serving others that what makes Jesus proud. For as we serve others, we serve God. 

I made my decision. I stood up and tapped the petite employee saying "Upo po kayo." 

"Thank you!" she replied and I caught the relief in her face as she maneuvered herself towards my seat. And lo and behold, there is still enough space for one. So I gladly tapped the barista and presented her the seat. Perfect! 

Being fat sometimes blesses others. I had two people sit in my seat. I made two people happy that day. I made two parts of Jesus proud. 

Serving others is serving God.

"But the greatest among you shall be your servant." - Matthew 23:11

May God's love make you see Him in every situation,

Rex Van Carlo E. Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam