Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personal. Show all posts

Another reflection

Sometimes I wonder if I'm just too hard on myself and on people. I have very high expectations, but most of the time I end up being frustrated by them.

Last night, I cried out my anxieties to God on what I felt was apathy of people. I told Him, "Why are people so short-sighted? They spend their energies and time on things that do not last, while neglecting what the Scripture says has eternal value."

I'm really frustrated. I can't remember the last time I cried myself to sleep.

Oftentimes I share my sentiments to a friend, and our conversations will end up with a heart-felt plea to God. "Just one person, Lord," I will pray. "If You can only raise up one more person with passion for the lost and unwavering commitment to You."

As I write this, I try to remember how I used to act during college. I admit that I wasn't so serious about faith then because I was really bent on achieving my dream of becoming the world's most famous writer. I viewed fellowships and Bible studies as "wasted time," and if I had a choice, I'd rather stay in my dorm room and study.

This attitude went on for sometime. And during that period, if you can see my heart, you'll notice that the self, the proud I, was sitting on my heart's throne. Even if I refused to acknowledge this fact, my attitude towards God unmasked me. He wasn't really the center of my life... I was.

I said I studied hard and did everything for His glory, but deep inside me I knew I was lying. The problem with me was I never really believed the things I said I believe.

Then, the inevitable happened. God met me, and He struck me with the force of His character. He confronted me head on, making me rethink my "Christianity." He showed me where I was at fault-- my relationship with Him wasn't real.

If I was on the throne of my life, then, I have not really  submitted my all to God. This means my faith is hollow and I have not yet turned from a life of sin to become a slave of God. It was sheer grace that made me see this truth. I wasn't saved. But praise God He saved me. Praise God He transformed me.

Why am I retelling this? I believe every professing Christian has to continuously reexamine their standing before God. It's one thing to claim you're a Christian and another thing to truly live as a saved person. There are many times I still pause and ask God, "Lord, am I truly saved? If I am, why do I keep on falling to sin? Why don't I have the power to overcome sin?"

I had to ask these questions because I wanted to see the fruit of my salvation. Matthew said a good tree bears good fruit and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. If I am saved, I must bear good fruit. I must desire to know God more. I must enjoy the fellowship of fellow believers. I must be able to say no to sin and temptation. I must long for Christ's Second Coming. I must have the eagerness to share His Gospel to people. I must CHANGE!

I had to ask God because there were times I could not see change in me. Two years ago, during one reflection time with Kuya Dave in a missions trip in Baguio, one question struck me. He said to our group, "Where are you in your spiritual walk right now? Are you moving with leaps forward? With baby steps forward? Or have you stopped moving? Or worse, are you moving backwards?"

I pray that all of us will have the time to reflect on these things. As I do, I still struggle with my frustrations, anxieties and disappointments. May the Lord strengthen me in the face of all my troubles.

August Reunions

It's raining hard outside because of typhoon "Mina" and we're out on our second "batch reunion" at UP Technohub. This monthly escapade was Del's brainchild. She said we'll get in touch better if we meet on a regular basis. I guess she's right because the "reunions" gave us the opportunity to catch up on our DCF batchmates, pray and encourage one another.

There were five of us who came-- Maynard, Del, Darlene, Maelen and myself. Our mini-reunion was spent sharing experiences at work or the lack of it while eating dinner at KFC. Mike was absent because his younger brother is sick and he has to take care of him.

Jet and Dado were together at the airport. They accompanied Jet's mother who flew back to Iloilo after a surprise visit for her birthday. Kath was busy finishing work-related papers. Joan was just too far away to afford a visit. Ate My, Ate Gina and Ate Lucky were out of reach. I pray that more will be able to attend next meeting.

Here we are before ordering dinner.

Here we are while eating. I ordered the traditional one-piece KFC classic chicken. Del and Maynard ordered this delectable chicken with white sauce and corn. I can't remember the name but the taste embedded itself in my tongue. I promised to order it next time. :)

When God Calls

We were cramped inside the Ipil Residence Hall study room one fellowship night when our speaker asked, “What may prevent you from going fulltime for the Lord?”

There was dead silence while each thought of the question. I also paused to think, but another question entered my mind, “Do I want to go fulltime in the ministry?”

I was second year then when I began considering ministry work. But during that time, I did not imagine myself actually spending a lifetime ministering to students and communities for Christ. Yes I started to enjoy the Bible Studies and the fellowships at DCF, but I wasn’t ready to give up my passion for journalism and the media industry.

Kuya Dave Griffiths, a missionary from Wales, started calling us one by one, eliciting answers. We were sitting in a circle so it was easy to predict who would be called next. When it was my turn, I said, “I want to go fulltime but I’m not sure if I’m ready and if my family is ready for it.”

I looked at Kuya Dave’s face and immediately I knew he was thinking, perhaps digesting what I said. I was waiting for a comment but it never came. Instead, with a heavy British accent, he blurted his usual, “Good! Alright lovely boy, good.”

Whatever that meant I never really found out. But I know for a fact that that night marked the beginning of my journey to the ministry.

In the next two years of my stay in Ipil, I got more involved with the dorms ministry. I took charge of its publication, The Dormwatch, during my junior year. Then on my last year in the University, I lent my service as chairperson of the fellowship.

It wasn’t easy juggling my time between academics and ministry. There were times when I really felt tired, but I could not give up what I was doing simply because I loved my work for the Lord. Undoubtedly, my senior year intensified my desire to go fulltime because I was very much involved in the lives of people.

I saw how the Holy Spirit worked in countless occasions—in Bible Studies, fellowships, fund raisings, camps and the Missions Trip. I particularly enjoyed the weekly BS I had with the DCF boys. I learned more when I started teaching the Bible, and it became a joy to watch the younger ones grow in faith.

By God’s grace, I finished my last year in UP and was blessed with the opportunity to address the graduates at the College of Mass Communication. That was a high point in my spiritual walk. The Spirit impressed in my heart not to waste the opportunity but to use it to advance the Gospel. So with much prayer, I included the Good News in my speech.

I will never forget when, coming down from the stage, I was greeted by a complete stranger—he looked like a pastor to me—who said, “God is pleased with your boldness! All praises to Him! Congratulations.”

UP life passed by quickly and I soon found myself serving in a non-government organization called GreenEarth Heritage Foundation. I was attracted to the ministry because of its Christian pillars and values. I was their Public Information Officer slash Executive Assistant all in one.

The adjustment was difficult because I felt that I wasn’t in the right place, that God wanted to use me somewhere else. Every evening after office, I would rush back to UP from Makati to join the fellowships and to lead Bible Studies.

There were times when I couldn’t wait for the end of office hours because I wanted so much to concentrate with my ministry to the dorms. I felt like my real work started the moment I finished my office work.

This went on for almost four months, until I prayerfully decided to resign, asking Kuya Caloy Novisteros to help me into the fulltime ministry.

During this time, I was meditating on Philippians and I heard God speak to me through His Word in my Quiet Times. When I was afraid with the uncertainty of my future, He said I lift it all in prayer and He will give me peace (Philippians 4:6-7). When I felt I wasn’t worthy to go fulltime, God said “I can do everything through Him who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13).” I also thought of my provisions. Where will I get my daily living? Philippians 4:19 was God’s swift answer, “And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.”

He was really talking to me. To cap His call, God drew me to Philippians 3:7-8. Here He revealed to me my heart’s desire, “But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ...”

I will never regret the day I gave myself  up to God for fulltime ministry at DCF.

Happy Birthday CJ!

Tomorrow will be CJ's birthday and I thought of doing this simple electronic card for him. :)

Hello CJ!

I pray that you will enjoy your birthday! May you always walk with Lord. Know Him more through His Word and trust that He will direct your paths!

God bless you always!

In Christ,

Kuya Pau

What a refreshing day

I praise God for a refreshing and exciting day today. everything started out great. I had my first Econ make-up class at 7:30. I actually didn't understand much of what Prof. Bautista taught, but I enjoyed her enthusiasm and mastery of the subject. I just pray that I could catch up on her soon. The second long exam's just around the corner.

After my Econ class, I dashed to Starbucks North Ave for a thesis interview. I'm not really a fan of expensive coffee but I enjoyed my Frapuccino (Did I spell this right?). And more than the Frapuccino, I enjoyed the actual interview. Our interviewee from the Philippine Chamber of the Pharmaceutical Industry was a formal but kind man who patiently answered our questions. He was an animated speaker. It did not take long for us to get the essential information and confirmation from the interview.

Me and my partner ate doughnut after. It was a gigantic treat with sweet honey glaze. Yum yum.

The best part of the day happened in the afternoon. We had a prayer meeting at Kamia. I praise God for the encouragement from Del's sharing. I'm also thankful for the time of sharing and prayer. Dado and Ate Janet were with me in the group.

Fastforward to 9 in the evening. JD, Trex and I resumed our Bible Study. It was encouraging to see the two enjoy the BS. If they could read this blog I want them to know that I enjoyed as the BS as much. Marko joined us just in time for the closing prayer. We studied about the Bible and devotions. I still praise God becuase we closed in prayer together.

But I'm not about to give up. I asked Marko to join me in a short BS and prayer time in his room immediately after. We studied the books of the New Testament and shared our praise and prayer items. It was refreshing to pray with Marko. I missed our fellowship.

I really praise God for this day. So much happened. But I know God was glorified. :)

I wish

...they'd be more sensitive
...they'd think of the people around them before they clump into their exclusive group
...they'd consider how much I long to be in their place but couldn't
...they'd lend their ears, drop a note, lift my spirit with simple words
...they'd make me feel I belong
...they'd see how much I had exerted to reach out to them
...I could find even one from them who'll be accountable of me
...they could see me now and realize how far away they had gone.

Praising Him

The Lord is my peace; I praise Him forever. From the darkest of nights to the brightest of days,I praise Him forever. My heart wells with joy at the sound of His voice. My spirit rejoices at the sound of His voice. I praise the Lord. He is my strength. He hides me in the shadow of His wings and purifies me with the fire of His love. His wounded palms remind me of this love. His bleeding flesh remind me of His love. I will praise the Lord all the days of my life. Amen.


I should be finishing a news story right now, but there's just not enough information to fill the gaps. That's how news writing works. It needs all the information to make up for the dry literature that it is (Yes, I know that news is not literature).

I'm doing it for a sister in Christ and as practice for my news writing skills. The lead's alright and the succeeding paragraphs will do, but I can't proceed with the rest of the story. I'm walking with my eyes open in pitch blackness. My pupils are struggling to get all available light (there's none, actually) into my eyes to help me see a newspoint worthy to be sprinkled here and there. I just can't find one.

To write a good news, I need to experience what I'm trying to write. But I haven't and that's a BIG problem. Complete information is the best substitute for experience, but the most important details are still waiting to be deciphered. There's a lot to do. Although I love challenges-- and this is really a challenge for me-- I can't move forward. I can't do anything with my news article.

It isn't supposed to be like this. I'm staring at my laptop's screen but there's nothing I can do. Is it me or my training? Now, I can't write without consuming information from credible sources. I can't write without understanding everything about the topic. I can't write the way other people do. I'm trained to write the journalist way-- research, read, understand, interview, structure, write, read, rewrite, rewrite, rewerite...

As one journalist puts it, "the essence of writing is rewriting."


Give me the right words.

One long post

A few days ago, an older brother in faith said he is an "emotional wreck." I like the image the words conjure-emotional wreck- but I like the words more because they reflect a part of me I struggle to understand.

I am also an emotional wreck right now. I'm wrestling with myself and my feelings. I'm sailing to uncharted territories in my mind and heart. These are wild territories that refuse to follow order.

Funny how even in my craft I can't find what I want to say. This is supposed to be my blog. I am suppose to rant here, but I can't. I don't know how.

A lot of emotions are bottled right now. I want them to burst to ease the pain, but I think the container's just too tough for me. It doesn't want to budge. It now contains 19 years of emotions, happy and a tsunami of sad emotions.

I must find the root of all these and weed it out. That's the only way I can deal with my confusion right now. But, truth is, there's just one thing that triggered them all.

I am alone in the dormitory so I'm detached from the friends who know me. So why am I just fretting now when I have survived more than a year in Ipil Residence Hall? I tried to last sem. I even tried the sem before that, but I just can't find the right words to express how I feel. I also can't find the right ear that's willing to listen.

I doubt if anyone can understand me. The only one who can (because he too was cut off from all his friends) is now with the people I also want to be with. I'm happy for him, but I'll be a whole lot happier if he has at least tried to lend his company.

Now I'm back to square one. When I first moved to Ipil, I felt alien. At least then I have some people to talk to (three people to be exact). But this summer, I have none. I have no roommate (he's one of the three), and the other person I talk to has decided to rest for the summer. So, there's just one person who's more or less willing to listen, but he's different from Christian friends.

Kuya pao said in yesterday's service that we need to be incarnate witnesses. We need to be present -in the flesh- when attempting to give testimony for the Lord. While this statement is for Christians ministering to non-believers, I think it is also true within the family of believers.

We need to be with Christians. I direly need Christian friends here and now. And I know at least two other Christians who do. I'm dependent on Jesus, and I need my friends to remind me that I am.

I miss my friends badly. And I miss my bestfriend so much.


I'm packing. In a few hours I'll be on my way north... home. 10 days of rest. 10 days to regroup. 10 days to forget. 10 days to just let go and discover more about my God. Goodbye.

They Come and Go

It is unfair to force people to stay. After all, this is a world of hellos and goodbyes. People come into your life, and people leave. It is a cycle that starts the moment you realize you are not alone, that you can never be alone.

Some people stay long enough for you to love them, long enough for you to cherish them. They are the people you do not want to leave. But it is a different story if they want to stay. Inevitably, you will learn to let go no matter how painful, no matter how unfair it is for you.

But changes are necessary for growth. God plucks you out of your comfort zones and places you in situations you never imagined to teach you. You will surely cry and grieve to your knees. You will ask for death-- the end of everything. You will strip yourself off with pride, revealing your vulnerabilities before Him who is Love.

Yet, in humbling yourself He will exalt you. In your pain, you will realize He is your comfort.

How painful it is to be left alone again. Just when I thought I am loved, I am quickly proven wrong. I pray for peace, Lord-- peace that comes not from this world but from you and you alone.


Since I can't just shout in my room... I'll shout in my blog. I hate me!!!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.....

I lost breath. Wait. One more time. I hate my life!!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.....

That's it. I'll just pray about this. :'(


I just want to post this:

I woke up today with a searing pain on the right side of my lower abdomen. For a split second I thought of death and stuff. I even thought of colon cancer and chemotherapy, and going bald.

I don't know why I thought of these things but I really felt afraid. I wanted to cry but couldn't. When the pain subsided, I decided to sleep and so I slept the whole Friday morning.

Perhaps God is telling me to rest. I have been abusing my body lately because of tons of paper and schoolwork. Still, I praise God because He is faithful. Please pray for my health. (^_^) Thank you.

Love Month is Over

I'm typing hurriedly before February ends, hoping that this post will cap my difficult and depressing month.

Yes, Love is in the air and was in the air-- romantic love that is. Unfortunately for me, and to all others who have loved and lost, February is not a very happy month.

I've been to a lot of talks, fellowships and discussions centering on love (even our BS centered on love) but most of the time, I have drifted away from the topic. My mind wanders whenever we talk about romantic relationships because my shield's still on full alert.

In simpler words, I am afraid to fall in love again. I'm afraid to invest emotions, to give my time and effort. This, I think, can't be understood by many. Even my best friend doesn't understand it fully. But I'm still praying-- not that I fall in love now but that the Lord will teach me to love Him first.

If you ask me, I don't see myself a married man. I'm toying with images of the mission, of full-time church ministry, of serving in foreign lands, of writing about God and people's culture. My brothers in Christ are teasing me with someone. Honestly, I don't feel anything romantic towards her at the moment. I have prayed about her, but the Lord has not answered me yet.

I think it's not yet time. Or perhaps I have a different calling. I don't know. I'm still confused about many things. In God's time, I'll be able to discern all these.

Praise Him who has loved us first. (^_^)

Thank You

There are so much I want to tell my Christian family. But a simple "Thank You" is more than enough to express my joy for being a part of it.

To my Christian friends, parents (tatay), ates and kuyas, churchmates, disciplers, fellowship-mates-- I thank you all for making my birthday special. You are indeed God's blessings. I pray that the family we have will continue to guide every member to a deeper relationship with God. (^_^)


It's my birthday's eve and I'm kinda depressed. Hahahaha.... I know why but I'm not telling you. Anyway. I think this is what they call the pre-birthday syndrome. (^_^) But you know the secret to a smile? Pray. Tell your Lord all your worries and pains. And before you know it, they're gone.
I should be thinking happy thoughts right now, because tomorrow is my BIRTHDAY. (^_^)


I thank you for the gift of life. I praise you for nineteen years of joy, pain and learning. I lift up to you all that I am. I offer you my strengths and my weaknesses, my achievements and failures.
Thank you, Father. (^_^)


Prayer Seven

My Lord and God,

I was weary and you gave me rest. I was in pain and you comforted me. I shed tears and you wiped them with you hands. I was lost and you led me back. I was confused and you enlightened me. I almost gave up but you encouraged me. I am a sinner but your love and your grace have saved me.

Father, through all the struggles, I thank you for you are faithful. The hurts are now strengths. The doubts are now certainties. You have rescued me, Father, and my heart overflows in joy and humility.

My Lord, I lift up to you a pained heart and a confused soul. You know what's best for my deepest brother in faith. You have created him for your glory. May the hurts and trials he is facing now give him lessons of trust and faith. May you teach him to cling to you alone, Father, to die of this world and live in you. May you give him a discerning heart and sensitive ears to understand your plans for him. Use this opportunity, Lord, to show him that you are above all, and your plans, though unfathomable by human minds, lead to what is best.

I lift up to you the silent concerns, unnamed troubles and secret fears of my deepest brother in faith. Remind him, Lord, of his strength that comes from you. Make in him a new heart, and cleanse him so that he may be as white as snow. Lead him, Lord. Guide him, and make him feel your overflowing love, mercy and grace.


The Chair to My Left

Sometimes, separation becomes bearable when memories abound. To the author and the artist, we hope to see you soon. Everyone is praying for you always. May God bless you and help you in this time of pain and confusion.
Booming coughs echo across space as blinding flashes of crimson and silver explode in the night sky, clashing with green, blue and yellow fires that leap out of the earth to wrestle with the blackness in a fiery fandango of color and sound. In an instant, loud, inhuman screams rise into the air, muffling the explosions, soaring higher and higher, until finally, mercifully, crescendo and then fade slowly into the mist and smoke of the cold January night.
I stand next to mommy under the Kaimito tree, the one Kuya had climbed so many times in the past, with me and sis waiting expectantly below, plastic bags in our grimy hands, mouths watering, waiting for the shout of warning from above to catch the green-and-purple fruits in our hands like squishy, overgrown softballs. We were young then, not anymore.
“Wonderful, aren’t they?” mom smiles, the invisible lines beside her eyes and framing her mouth now etched deep and defiant in her placid-pale face. I nod with a quick grin and my head snaps up again, just in time to see the shower of green sparks shoot into the sky from Nana Karing’s house next door. It is answered by a pulsating ball of white fire that rockets straight up into the stars, twists one, two, three times as it changes from bright yellow to glowing green to neon blue, then explodes there, a supernova of red motes of light; breathtaking.
Dad is there in a second, his face sweaty and grimy, shirtless belly streaked with soot from the fireworks he had set up. His hard, scarred and callused hands come up in front of him, palms raised, shoulders shrugging, saying it was over. The last of our fireworks: gone.
The acrid smell of ashes mingles with the fog, stinging my nostrils. The aroma picks at my brain, reminding me of that day, ten months ago, of the cursed letter whose charred remains may very well be the soil beneath our feet.
“Yay, it’s time to eat!” sis exclaims, and everyone laughs, but I know what she really wants is to get back inside to the TV and her cell phone—if text messages had weight it would have been crushed flat by now.
We turn to the house, where Papang and Mamang have been watching through the window—the cold might be too much for them. I am greeted by a suffocating hug from Mamang, one as tight as her old bones could manage.
“Happy New Year, apo,” and
“May God bless you.”
Papang is less enthusiastic as usual, greeting me with a rough pat in the back, ruffling my hair as he would a favorite dog, his usually scrutinizing expression now cut by an unmistakable smile.
“Happy New year.” He says gruffly, owing more to the fact that he now has difficulty breathing than his indifference towards me, which is still there, mind. All these years I had come to accept that he favored Kuya more than me, even when he and Mamang were still in the States, he would be overjoyed just to hear at least some good news about Kuya. That ended a few months ago, when he finally found out what his favorite apo had done. I knew he was hurt, we all were. I just smile back.
Sis and I troop to the TV, grabbing our cell phones as we go. I sneak a peek at the glowing white rectangle of light between her hands.
“Ha, you only have twelve! I guess you aren’t as popular as you think!”
“Oh yeah? Well let me look at yours, you probably didn’t receive even one greeting!” she taunts me, her eyebrow cocked up like one of those DoƱas in those Mexican telenovelas. A hand comes up to her waist to complete the look. I look her square in the eyes, my own eyebrows doing some acrobatics of their own. Then we laugh, our little play act so finely executed we could have Rosalinda and whoever-the-villain-was on their meticulously tanned and shaved knees in shame. But there is still something missing, like when a character in a cry-your-heart-out television show suddenly dies or goes missing; I know exactly who it is. I look quickly in my inbox, which is also packed with almost-identical greetings, but kuya, ever the indifferent big brother, didn’t even leave a cheesy New Year’s quote like everyone else.
“You guys, look at this!” Dad, now freshly showered and dressed, hollers from in front of the television, at the same time ogling at the fireworks display on TV. We join him and again I am transfixed by the exploding fireballs on TV, right above a street full of drunken partiers, who now, too, are rooted to the spot like witnesses to an alien invasion, their bare necks craning to see millions of pesos in fireworks practically being burned to ash over their heads.
“Yeah, even better than ours.”
“Time to eat!” Mom’s battle cry freezes everyone on the spot. The two of us cooked the spaghetti earlier—though not as good as Kuya or Daddy did last year—and now it lay steaming and aromatic in six of Mom’s identical porcelain plates with the blue scroll pattern at the rims, the ones that only see the light of day during special occasions or with the presence of an important guest. On one side is the cake, a huge mound of carbohydrate and sugar, just waiting for its first victim, and next to it is the traditional basket of fruits, along with the smoked ham, the buko salad and a pitcher of cold Coca-cola. I sit on my usual seat, at my Dad’s left-hand side, the one I had picked since I was a child because there I had a great view of the sala’s television reflected on the glass of the great black bookcase across the room from it. To Daddy’s right sit Mommy, sis, Mamang and Papang, all neatly in a line around the table.
The chair to my left stands empty.
I look over to Mommy and see the hurt in her eyes, the same expression she had on that day, when all this started. No anger, no hate, only the helplessness of a mother whose little ones finally learn to use their wings, only to fly another direction. She had seen me looking at the chair.
“Okay, let’s eat!” Daddy declares, and everyone else tries to look as hungry and excited, as if nothing was wrong. As if the food, however delicious, could somehow fill the vacuum in our own hearts.
The sky outside is a dark, forbidding blue, the light from the distant sun still untraceable on its velvet face. Even the stars are invisible, veiled from our eyes by the swirling smoke from the myriad firecrackers that, just minutes ago, were popping about merrily, festively. Dawn is still very far away, but getting closer with every tick of the clock, with every breath, with every blink of a tear-soaked eye.
“Let’s say grace first. Son…?”
I nod and give a quick smile, then bow my head as I have been taught since childhood.
I do not have to look up to know that a tear is finding its way slowly, quietly down Mom’s cheek, that Dad is knitting his eyebrows together in an effort to stop his own eyes from watering, and that Sis is looking at me, a question in her eyes, expecting, almost praying that I might look at her with an answer. And I know that however I try to think otherwise, that chair will always remain as it is. But so will we.

Praise God!!!

I feel so good with God tonight. Praise God!!!