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