Dedication
I ask the indulgence of all bland who may read this book for dedicating it to featureless person. I have a critical reason: he is the best friend of the whole world. I have another reason: he can understand and relates in every vital situation. I have third reason: he lives in Pampanga and now he is in Laguna to discern on his chosen vocation. If not all these critical reasons are enough, I dedicate this book to the boy who grew up under the roof. Logically all grew under the roof of their house. And so I correct my dedication:
TO JOHN
FROM HIS CHILDHOOD TO…
Life and Joy…
The source of all creation is pure consciousness…
In the beginning, there was neither existence nor non-existence, all this world was unmanifest energy…
The One breathed, without breath, by its own power
Nothing else was there…
The human body is such a magnificent vessel bestowed upon us by our forefathers and God. In the bible, God has modeled us to his near likeness but in science we have shaped by millions if not billions of years of evolution. What we are today is a byproduct of God’s spiritual gift to our creation and evolution’s years of modeling and shaping.
I am Jean Mark Pabalate David; they often called me John or JM. I was born on a warm, sunny day of May, in Dolores, Mabalacat, Pampanga. I was the first born child in our family. My parents give all my leisure because in five years time I was the only child in the family. Expensive shoes from abroad, signature shirts, and delicious food.
I spent my preparatory level in School of the Infant Jesus near our house. It was fortunate and a blessing to earn my first schooling at good catholic school. After graduating prep I studied at Mary Help of
Let me share to you what I think about the founder and father of our school, St. John Bosco.
Don Bosco: a name known in every land his Salesians were able to set a foot on. How lucky we are those guys reached these islands of ours during his time, he lived a life unique for a priest. In spite of the obstacle he encountered, he continued to live his life, dedicating to God.
A man filled with God’s love from the very beginning and he was able to radiate this love to the people a round him especially to the young.
Come Holy Spirit
Since baptism is usually associated with Christianity, this article will consider chiefly the practices and beliefs of Christians with regard to this rite, and in particular the forms in which they hold that it should be administered.
Have you ever been really, really thirsty, with the kind of thirst where you'd give just about anything for a tall glass of cool water? Following a hot practice session of soccer or basketball, have you ever felt bummed out, tired and in need of a shower?
Or after a sunny day at the pool, have you found yourself burned and needing the relief only a soothing ointment could provide?
Have you ever had your self-confidence lifted by a new outfit that made you feel like a new person?
The Sacrament of Baptism. One month after my birth date marks the beginning of my Christian life, which took place at the St. Joseph Parish in Dolores, Mabalacat, Pampanga.
As the baptismal rite began, the family and my sponsors gathered around the font, and the presider addressed the children. "You and your parents and sponsors have spent a long time preparing for this day. Is it your desire to baptized Jean Mark to be a Christian?" Then my mom answered with a loud voice “yes”.
And baptize in the name of the Lord, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
A lifelong journey
Baptism is a serious step—a step we spend much time getting ready for. We get new clothes, we get a candle to light the way, water to help us grow, oil for strength, even companions for the journey. But that is only the beginning of a much longer journey, a lifetime journey of commitment and discipleship. Our journey begins with an invitation, a call from God through the Christian community to live the gospel as committed Disciples of Christ. When we accept the invitation, that call and response are ritualized and made visual and "real" for us in the celebration of Baptism.
Childhood Sweetheart
Love doesn't make the world go round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile. If you have it [Love], you don't need to have anything else, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter much what else you have.
Every time I speak of love life, my mom always taunt me from a girl named Gladys. Gladys is a typical type of a girl. Actually, she is my childhood friend, or childhood sweetheart as my relatives would say. We play together, tease each other, and kiss her in her soft chicks as my mom prompt to me.
At first, I didn’t know about this thing called love, not because we were just a child and we were still innocent then, we know not of feelings except crying and crying all day. We moved and live our course, I began to forget her and focus on other things such as my studies, hobbies and friends.
Then the day came that would change the very way I live my life. I was with my friends and saw her walking near our house. At first glance, I saw in her an aura of holiness, like Laura Vicuña - . But there was something in her that I like, considering as my crush until today. I didn’t know if it was her long silky smooth hair that caught my attention or her angelic face that dismantled my focus on different things like my studies, leisure, and friends. I was confused if everyday was getting worse or better as I see her pass our house as she goes to her school between 6:45 – 7:20 in the morning (see, I’m so obsessed with her). Whenever I got out of the house, I would always meet her but no words could come out of my mouth. That’s why: I do have her cellular number, but I hesitate to text her. I was in a complete state of nervous breakdown whenever I caught sight of her face. I tried everything to shift my attention away from her through music and arts, but each strum of the guitar and swipe of the brush only makes me remind of her. Whenever I sleep at night, my dreams are of her even as I wake up in the morning after praying, my thoughts are still of her. Even in my notebook, during our lecture, my pen keeps on writing his name. I know I have feelings for her, but I don’t have the heart to tell it to her. I can’t tell what she will do if I tell it to her.
Months have past; I have never spoken to her. The last time we had a conversation was when she asked me about her project. She was even the one who started the conversation we had. I missed several chances in which I could show her what a man I am for her. The only thing I have to remind me of her is my memory of her.
The only thing I know is; love has conquered me; that I’m trapped in her cage and my feelings are still struggling to be set free.
I want her to be mined but destiny doesn’t what us to be…
Worst Enemy
The relationship that you share with your sibling can be one of great joys. The relationship between siblings is one that usually defies logic.
When you throw yourself against a brick wall
It’s gonna hurt
But it feels good too
Feels like something
at least
that’s my excuse
I gave my body to that beast
Let her do what she pleased
She tried to eat my brain
I was immersed, eviscerated, swallowed then vomited
Now I sit with a broken neck, out of smiles
What the heck
Next day, I tried to pray
But nothing made her go away
I’m rebuilding myself every fifteen minutes
and the black dog is a permanent houseguest.
I composed a poem dedicated to my sister. His name is Nicole Ann David, I often tease her “kulot”, “pangit” and “mabaho”. She is my worst enemy because she is younger than me, so my parents would always count on her.
I really love to tease her, the way she cries it gives me joy and happiness.
I remember when she is still a child; don’t know about what is happening around. I put an alcohol in his favorite drink. I was laughing and laughing all day long not realizing that she was vomiting and turning her white skin into black. I got nervous then; I called my mom and said what happened. And as usual I got reprimanded again.
Nevertheless, as we grew up I’ve learned to love her. I realized that at the end, she will serve as my guide and my inspiration.
Pater et Filius
Sons have always a rebellious wish to be disillusioned by that which charmed their fathers... "I talk and talk and talk, and I haven't taught people in 50 years what my father taught by example in one week."
My biological father was a brilliant man. In his fifties he seemed to have the world at his feet. He was tall and good-looking with a razor sharp mind and a deep resonant voice. People were usually mesmerised by him and he used his charisma to good effect. My Father was born to a wealthy and respected family in Betis, Guagua, Pampanga and lived a life of luxury of friends, finishing off her education in abroad.
My dad never drinks a beer and smoke a cigarette. He embarked on a successful career in mechanical and automotive and was often call his help to fix some damage appliances and vehicles.
He is so very quiet that you can count on how many words he utters each day. He loves chicken very much. He spent his day looking to them. He is like an autistic when it comes to chicken talk. He knows all about chicken. Perhaps his father is also a chicken lover.
I remember a point in my life that my father’s patience went to the lowest level because of my stubbornness.
It was a summer then and we had our closing party at school. I said to my dad that I will be at home by 6 o’clock. But I did not comply on our agreement I went home late, I saw my father carrying with him a broom and ready to take off my butt. I was crying and crying all the nights. I can’t accept that my father got anger to me. Perhaps it was my first time to saw his fury.
Super Mommy
My mom is ridiculously simple. She lifts weight to stay strong. What I mean is she does all to form us into better person.
My mother is a weightlifter. You know what I mean. She understands that the best laid plans; the sweetest beginnings have a way of turning to shit. Bad enough when life fattens you up just so it can turn around and gobble you down. Worse for the ones like my mother life keeps skinny, munching on her daily, one cruel, little, needle-toothed bite at a time so the meal lasts and lasts. Mom understands life don't play so spends beaucoup time and energy getting ready for the worst. She lifts weights to stay strong. Not barbells or dumbbells, though most of the folks she deals with, to me and to my sister, act just that way, like dumbbells. No. The weights she lifts are burdens, her neighbors, siblings, and specially yours truly. Whatever awful calamities arrive on her doorstep or howl in the news, my mom squeezes her frail body beneath them. A grip, hoists, holds the weight. I swear sometimes I can hear her sinews squeaking and singing under a load of invisible tons.
I ought to know since I'm one of the burdens bowing her shoulders. She loves heavy, hopeless me unconditionally. Before I was born, Mom loved me; forever and ever till death do us part. I'll never be anyone else's darling, darling boy so it's her fault, her doing, isn't it, that neither of us can face the thought of losing the other. How could I resist reciprocating her love. Needing her. Draining her. Feeling her straining underneath me, the pop and cackle of her arthritic joints, her curly hair sizzling with static electricity, the hissing friction, tension and pressure as she lifts more than she can bear. Bears more than she can possibly lift. You have to see it to believe it. Like the Flying UFO or walking snake.
My mother believes in a God whose goodness would not permit him to inflict more troubles than a person can handle. A God of mercy and salvation. A sweaty, bleeding god presiding over a fitness class in which his chosen few punish their muscles. She should wear a T-shirt: God's Gym.
In spite of me and my sister; In spite of her asthma that almost brings her to death; In spite of corrosive poverty and a neighborhood whose streets are no longer safe even for gray, crippled up folks like her, my mom loves her God, thanks him for the blessings he bestows, keeps her faith he would not pile on more troubles than she could bear. Praises his name and prays for strength, prays for more weight so it won't fall on those around her less able to bear up.
You've seen those iron pumping, muscle-bound brothers fresh out the slam who show up at the playground to hoop and don't get picked on a team cause they can't play a lick, not before they did their bit, and sure not now, back on the set, stiff and stone-handed as Frankenstein, but finally some old head goes on and chooses one on his squad because the brother's so huge and scary looking sitting there with his jaws tight, lip poked out you don't want him freaking out and kicking everybody's ass just because the poor baby's feelings is hurt, you know what I mean, the kind so buff looks like his coiled-up insides about to bust through his skin or his skin's stripped clean off his body so he's a walking anatomy lesson. Well, that's how my mom looks to me sometimes, her skin peeled away, no secrets, and every taut nerve string on display.
I can identify the precise moment during a trip with her one afternoon to the supermarket on Jumbo Jenra in Dau, Mabalacat, Pampanga, when I began to marvel at my mother's prodigious strength. I was very young, young enough not to believe I'd grow old, just bigger. A cashier lady who seemed to be acquainted with my mother asked very loudly, Is this your son, and Mom smiled in reply to the cashier's astonishment saying calmly, Yes, he is, and the doughy white lady in her green jenra smock with her name on the breast tried to match my mother's smile but only managed a fake grin like she'd just discovered shit stinks but didn't want anybody else to know she knew. Then she blurted, He's a tall one, isn't he.
Not a particularly unusual moment as we unloaded our shopping cart and waited for the bad news to ring up on the register. The three of us understood, in spite of the cashier's quick shuffle, what had seized her attention. In public situations the sight of my pale, caucasian featured mother and her variously colored kids disconcerted strangers. They gulped. Stared. Muttered insults. We were visible proof somebody was sneaking around after dark, breaking the apartheid rule, messy mulatto exceptions to the rule, trailing behind a woman who could be white.
Nothing special about the scene in the supermarket. Just an ugly moment temporarily reprieved from turning uglier by the cashier's remark that attributed her surprise to a discrepancy in height not color. But the exchange alerted me to a startling fact--I was taller than my mother. The brown boy, me, could look down at the crown of his light-skinned mother's head. Obsessed by size, like most adolescent boys, size in general and the size of each and every particular part of my body and how mine compared to others, I was always busily measuring and keeping score, but somehow I'd lost track of my mother's size, and mine relative to hers. Maybe because she was over size. If someone had asked me my mother's height or weight I probably would have replied, Huh. Ubiquitous I might say now. A fat, curly hair, light skin and flat nose.
The moment in Jumbo Jenra is also when I began to marvel at my mother's strength. Unaccountably, unbeknownst to me, my body had grown larger than hers, yes, and the news was great in a way, but more striking and not so comforting was the fact, never mind my advantage in size, I felt hopelessly weak standing there beside my mom in Jumbo Jenra. A wimpy shadow next to her solid flesh and bones. I couldn't support for one hot minute a fraction of the weight she bore on her shoulders twenty-four hours a day. The weight of the cashier's big-mouthed disbelief. The weight of hating the pudgy white woman forever because she tried to steal my mother from me. The weight of cooking and cleaning and making do with no money, the weight of fighting and loving us iron-headed, ungrateful brats. Would I always feel puny and inadequate when I looked up at the giant fist hovering over our family, the fist of God or the Devil, ready to squash us like bugs if my mother wasn't always on duty, spreading herself thin as an umbrella over our heads, her bones its steel ribs keeping the sky from falling.
Reaching down for the brass handle of this box I must lift to my shoulder, I need the gripping strength of my mother's knobby-knuckled fingers, her superhero power to bear impossible weight.
Mom's always been my best critic. I depend on her honesty. She tells the truth yet never affects the holier-than-thou superiority of some people who believe they occupy the high ground and let you know in no uncertain terms that you nor nobody else like you ain't hardly coming close. Huh-uh. My mother smiles as often as she groans or scolds when she hears gossip about somebody behaving badly. My, my, my she'll say and nod and smile and gently broom you, the sinner, and herself into the same crowded heap, no one any better than they should be, could be, absolute equals in a mellow sputter of laughter she sometimes can't suppress, hiding it, muffling it with her fist over her mouth, nodding, remembering, how people's badness can be too good to be true, my, my, my.
Why was she holding back the sunshine that could forgive the worst foolishness. Absolve my sins. Retrieve me from the dead end corners into which I paint myself. Mama, please. Please, please, please, don't you weep. Don't leave me drowning like crazy Boy in the deep blue sea. Smile, Mom. Laugh. Send that healing warmth through the wire and save poor me.
Inborn Talents
“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan "presses on" has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race”
People are born with special skills and talents. These skills and talents have to be developed and used sensibly. There are those who use their talents to entertain people. Others even use them to earn a living. Actors and actresses perform well on stage and on big screen. Athletes’ activity participates in different competitions. Musicians perform well in shows and concerts. But it is sad to know that there are still some people who have not taken the effort to discover some of their talents.
And I am proud to say that, I belong to those people who think that are hopeless, desperate, fruitless, pathetic, and miserable. Thinking that there is no place for me to stay on prime.
I admit that I was so fascinated with celebrities, athletes, band member, poets and other notable persons in their fields. I was thinking that these people worked awfully hard to attain the position they have. They are awesome, superb and wonderful.
When I was in primary level of education, my teachers and other staff in our school are so proud to me. Because they said that I am a multi-talented and a gifted child. I have won in many quiz bee contests, and in four consecutive years I am the champion in spelling contest in Mary Help of Christian School.
I also write poems at a young age. But this poetry writing brought me to hell.
My teacher in English asks us to write a poem about friendship. Then after a moment I pass my work and in front of the class she shouted and said “Mr. Jean Mark David, where did you copy this poem? Did you know that, that is plagiarism? My goodness!”
I was so ashamed even if I did not duplicate any poem. At that point of time, I stop on writing a poem.
Then one day, when I was contemplating on something. I remember the article I’ve read long time ago. And it was still fresh in my mind. It says that: we should always make the most of ourselves. If one could play the guitar well or can writes well, you also can do the same way. Never mind what others would say what is important is “you”.
And at that time I begun again writing great poems; not only poems but also stories and articles. Actually I made my first book and its entitled “bangka” a story of a boy who is searching for values of life.
High School high
Where you learn the fundamentals of life… Not only to acquire knowledge but also foolishness. Believe me its true.
High school life – I considered it the “the best.”
Four grueling years in the secondary level make up high school life. And even young professionals consider high school as “the best.”
I can say that one of the many reasons would have to be the projects. My reasoning seems to be shallow at first, but if I look deeper into it, I will discover that projects are just instruments for something more beautiful to happen.
Drafting is my favorite subject. Our teacher is an architect, and bosconians often called him “kikiam” because of his long forehead and his perfectly oblong shape head. He loves to give an onerous projects and one of it is, to assemble a miniature. He divides the class into five groups, so eight members per group. It took us a month to assemble the miniature.
It is something worth your time, worth cherishing and worth protecting. I realize that lessons and projects seem to be “lighter” when my friends are at my side. Most of the time I share the same experience and sometimes sacrifices with these people. In the process, I tend to know more about life. These are even times when I help a friend with his project even though he is not my classmate. See! It’s the camaraderie that brings together friends. If you will trace down the roots of this friendship it is because of the projects done together.
In my high school days, I strengthen bonds of the friendship with my classmates as we struggle for the deadline of our project, which often happens to be on the next day. In my school days, I share the same burdens and triumphs with my classmates as I take our quarterly exams. And eventually, when we are asked to define these people whom I have shared my experience with, you would often use the word – friends.
These are the times when I used the term ‘barkada’ to indicate those friends who are too special for me. These barkadas Iskirivitch, Giks, Factory Defect and to my beloved friends, “The Evangelist” namely Mykel, Kim, and Jero. These are just some with one another. These are just some of the people who would agree with my perception as to why high school life is considered “the best.”
With pride, I can say I have my own. I may not have a unique name of a special song to represent my ‘barkada’ but one thing is sure: I can be the person whom you want to be. I just saw my self one day going to recess and lunch with these guys, bullying the lower years, stealing foods and teasing “aćhe” and “cheap” – our canteen staff. Nor sharing what food we have for the day, joking around, telling stories and basically enjoying each company. Each of us does well – either in sports, academics, drafting or even fooling around. When we are together, we set aside our academic status in school. We don’t care if one of us is a lead guitarist in our school band, a badminton varsity, a draftsman and a running for honor. They understand, you can abuse us, neglect us, and tolerate us. Best of all, you can still keep us. What is important is that we can laugh together, we can console one another, share our dreams and we are… HAPPY! We see each other on the same level - as true friend. A good barkada, and as true bosconians.
Juan Nite
Vocation overnight is a remarkable experience to know your vocation in life.
August 5, 2006, a vocation overnight was held in Don Bosco Academy, Mabiga, Mabalacat, Pampanga. It was an activity deign for young men willing to discern for their vocation. Together with me were other seniors of DBA – Pampanga: Ace Aragones, Jay Sibal, Marlon Zuniga, Jarvis Ouano, MJ David, Ferdinand Mallari, Jimbo Srmiento, Juan Paulo Dakis, Kevin Peñalba, Rochie Pangilinan, Luch Albances and my truest friends Michael Pagcu, Jero Buenviaje, and Kim Almario. The activity was animated by our school rector, Fr. Ditto Gueco SDB, our principal, Fr. Dindo Vitug SDB, our economer, Fr. Martel Ramos and our virtuous catechist, Fr. Ben-Hur Borja SDB. I dare dared to go and see if I was really meant to be for the religious life although I knew all along that not all are called for this kind way of life.
We began the activity with a free cone of ice cream, courtesy of our economer, Fr. Martel Ramos, playing racket games with Fr. Ditto, watching comedy movies, playing pillow fight, and cracked jokes with each other. After that happy bonding among each senior, we had a talk with a missionary priest from Papua New Guinea, Fr. Peter SDB. He gives us an insight on being a salesian missionary. When morning came, Fr. Ben-Hur talked about priesthood and everything about it; it was so inspiring that I wanted to be ordained that very moment. We closed the activity learning everything that never knew and understood before. Now we know that not only priesthood that brings to holiness, there are also other paths to holiness and we go on with our lives. But not to worry, we have only one glorious destination ahead of us, and that is heaven.
Three Words of Mary
Mary my mother… my guardian… and my teacher.
She teaches me the values of life that will served as my shield from evil.
I composed a song entitled Three Words of Mary. This song is all about the values that Mary teaches me. The Three Theological Virtues, love, faith and hope.
Love. Not love alone for one; you can not stand alone without this love on your pocket. But man, as man thy brothers’ call, threat a man as your brother and love him as you love yourself.
Faith. Where thy barks are driven, your struggles and challenges make you a better person if faith will prevail. Believe and repent, because God is always at your side.
Hope. Though clouds environ round
Gladness hides her face in scorn, no matter how big is your problem never give up. The best way to do is to shout “I CAN”. Put off the shadow from thy brow’ no night but hath its morn.
Feel the song, meditate and reflect on how Mary touches my Life. And gave me his love, help me strengthen my faith and hope because God is here.
Intro: G-C9-G-C9
G C9
There are three lessons I would sing,
G C9
Three words as like a burning voice,
Am G
In tracing of eternal light
D G
Upon the hearts of youth.
G C9
Have faith. Where thy barks are driven,
G C9
The calm’s disport, the chaos joy,
Am G
Knowing this: God rules
C9 G
The inhabitants of earth.
Chorus:
D G
Then be not coy, but use your lessons
A E
And while you may, go love
D A G
When youth and hope are warmer;
A D G
Times still succeed the former
D G
For having lost
Have hope. Though clouds environ round
Gladness hides her face in scorn,
Put off the shadow from thy brow’
No night but hath its morn.
Have love. Not love alone for one
But man, as man thy brothers call,
And scatter like a circling sun,
Thy charities on all (repeat chorus)
By the way I composed this song last August, 2006. I used the song for my entry in the Song Writing Contest held on Carreño house of formation
Love’s contrary
My love for Mary is beyond all that I can give.
She is the Mother for all seasons. Her love is better than life.
I find no peace, yet my sacrifices are done;
I fear and hope, I blaze and chill like ice;
I soar aloft, yet I cannot rise;
And naught I have, and the entire world I clutch on,
That bonds nor loses, holds me in dungeon.
And locks me not, yet I can vanish no wise;
Nor allow me to live, nor die, at my devise,
And yet of death it gives me occasion.
Without ocular I see, without tongue I plain;
I wish to decline, yet I pray for health;
I love another, and I hate myself;
I feed me in misfortune, and burst in all my pain.
And Mary pleases me both faith and life;
And my delight is causer of this strife.
Sermonette
While some of these segments carried the actual program title of "Sermonette," there were a variety of names used by individual stations, such as "The Pastor's Corner," or "Words of Inspiration" or the like.
Sermonettes were generally about 5 minutes in length, and featured religious clergy from churches in the local station's coverage area. Reflecting the majority religious faith in the U.S., the clergy involved were almost always Christian (Protestant or Roman Catholic), although in TV markets with a large Jewish population, a rabbi might occasionally be called upon.
In celebration of the birthday of our Mother Mary, the life youth group spearheaded a tribute that would allow some seminarian to give a sermonette.
All were ask to pick a paper inside a box and what you got is your topic on your semonette. But not all were fortunate to give because some of the papers are blanks. Luckily I’ve got the first day, its all about Mary’s Faith and Discernment.
It was a big problem for me because I don’t know what discernment is. It took me a week to finished my piece and it goes like this:
Sermonette:
To tell you frankly, I did not prepare a sermonette to day, because I have so many things to accomplish like finalizing my reports, doing my bottomless homework and so, as a result I failed to make one. I lost my opportunity to inspire, influence, exalt, motivate, encourage, embolden, enkindle, and provoke you with my simple sermon. Please accept my apology. And now let us go and take our supper.
(I went down stage)…………….
Wait, wait, and excuse me! Everybody please stay where you are now. That’s how faith and discernment enter our way. These two words puzzled our path. Dictionaries and encyclopedia would further say that faith is a belief, trust, creed, religion, doctrine, conviction, vow, pledge, fidelity, and honesty. While discernment means to make out, detect, identify, perceive, observe and descry. So, the big question is how can faith and discernment trigger us to pause, stop and reflect on which way will we be going to, either to the right or left, Towards salvation or damnation.
I have here two words or maybe a simple solution to this question. So that you will never pause, stop and reflect on which way you will go. These two words are “I” and “can”. “I can” a never giving up phrase. Strong motivation to go on your way, either it is good or bad. Remember what is bad is good. What I mean is a bad way leads us to the good way. How? Our defects, mistakes will harness us to be strong. No matter how bad it is, it will never annoy you. ‘Ah I know what to do its ok!” I can. “Modo fac” in Latin, just do it.
Going back to the word, what do you notice? Try to see, if we invert it, we got “can I?” “Can I” is a damn, condemn, blast, critized, cersure, and disparage phrase. A hopeless person; never believed in the talents that God has given him.
What if at the age of 46 you were burned beyond recognition in a terrible motorcycle accident, and then four years later, you would be paralyzed from waist down in an airplane crush? Then, can you imagine yourself becoming a millionaire, a respected public speaker, a happy newlywed and a successful business person? Can you see yourself going white rafting? Sky diving? Running for political office?
Roger has done all these and more after two horrible accidents left his face a quilt of multicolored skin graphs, his hands fingerless and his legs thin and motionless in a wheelchair.
The 16 surgeries Roger endured after the motorcycle accident burned more than 65 percent of his body, left him unable to pick up pork, dial a telephone or go to bathroom without help. But Roger a former marine, never believed he was defeated “I am in charge of my own spaceship” he said. “It’s my up, my down. I could choose to see this situation as a setback or a starting point. Six months later ha was piloting a plane again.
To cut the long story short. Despite his initial shocking looks and physical challenges, Roger began while water rafting, ha fell in love and married, earned a master’s degree in public administration and continued flying, environmental activism and public speaker.(song will be played: “When we believe”)
Roger said, “Before I was paralyzed, there were 10,000 things I could do. Now there were 9,000. I can either dwell on the 1,000 I lost or focus on the 9,000 I have left. I tell people that I have two big bumps in my life. If I have chosen not to use them as an excuse to quit, then maybe some of the experiences you are having which are pulling you back can be put into a new perspective. You can step back, take a wider view and have a chance to say, “Maybe that isn’t a big deal after all”
Remember: “It’s not what happens to you, it’s what you do about it.” I can! Oo naman!
As what Mary did in the Annunciation. She gave his yes to be the mother of Jesus. She never thinks twice. She answers immediately “here am I the servants of the lord; let it be done with me according to your world”
Allow me to read again to you the poem of mine to impart to you on how Mary comes to my life.
LOVE’S CONTRARY
I find no peace, yet my sacrifices are done;
I fear and hope, I blaze and chill like ice;
I soar aloft, yet I cannot rise;
And naught I have, and the entire world I clutch on,
That bonds nor loses, holds me in dungeon.
And locks me not, yet I can vanish no wise;
Nor allow me to live, nor die, at my devise,
And yet of death it gives me occasion.
Without ocular I see, without tongue I plain;
I wish to decline, yet I pray for health;
I love another, and I hate myself;
I feed me in misfortune, and burst in all my pain.
And Mary pleases me both faith and life;
And my delight is causer of this strife.
Before ending this sermonette, I will leave you a question to reflect on. What enables you to keep on saying a “yes” to God or “I can” to yourself, to take the risk of believing that Christ comes to others through our own life? How do I express this yes or I can in my daily life?
So, that’s all have a good evening. Thank you!
Perseverance
In every endeavour, there are lessons to be learned. I've learnt a lot from this one already and no doubt there will be more along the way.
A long time ago I learnt a vital lesson that has helped me so much through my own struggles. It is that 'fear' often results in a type of paralysis, which leads to inactivity, inactivity leads to failure and consistent failure leads to defeat. When I say 'paralysis' I think about how a buck is brought down by lion and seems to acquiesce and no longer struggles. Its abject fear brings about a form of paralysis and it gives up the fight. So often when we face seemingly insurmountable challenges, the same thing happens. Nature gave us certain defense mechanisms when facing danger. One of these is a surge of adrenalin. Adrenalin is the 'fight or flight' hormone. It floods through our body and in that instant we have ability that we would not normally have. We've all read stories about the grandmother who lifted up a car to save her grandchild. That's adrenalin in action. Your reactions are quicker, your strength is increased and you have more stamina as a result of this but if you don't do anything with it, adrenalin can cause untold damage to your body. Medical research has shown this. People who have suffered severe trauma often begin to suffer medical symptoms as a result of this phenomenon. We bypass the 'active' phase induced by the adrenalin surge and we go straight to the state of paralysis. It is obvious that if we face problems in this state, we will never overcome. The only way to conquer fear is to recognise this and to ACT.
Worry is probably one of the most self-defeating things we can do. Worry is natural when we face challenges but so often our minds replay the worst scenario over and over again and this is what prevents us from acting. I learnt that worry can work for you if you manage it. I realised that I was spending far too much time worrying and not enough acting. To deal with this, I decided to manage my worry. I know this sounds crazy but what I decided to do was to set aside an hour of my time each day (at an appointed time) to worry. I called it 'worry hour' at first but eventually I came to call it 'constructive problem solving'. Whenever I started to worry, I'd firmly tell myself that I would not worry about it until the appointed hour. This takes discipline but it works if you consistently apply it. If thoughts of new problems cropped up, I'd jot them down in my worry book and refuse to apply my mental energy to it until the appointed hour. At the appointed time, I'd sit down quietly and write down all my problems and then I'd address each one, one at a time. The first thing I'd do was to divide my problems up into two categories: #1 Problems I can act upon and #2 Problems I cannot solve. I'd take the first list and make a further list about what action was required to solve each problem. I named this list my 'action list' and I wrote down each action in order of priority. The second list, I'd read and then I would give them over to God (some do this by giving it over to the Universe or to their higher selves). I would often say aloud 'I do not have a solution for this problem and so I give it over to God and I trust that where I cannot see a solution, one exists'. It doesn't matter what one says as long as it is a positive affirmation. There IS a solution to every problem but our minds can't always see it. Action brings about a shift in our attitudes. You feel more in control and this prevents you from becoming paralysed. Action is positive and often in acting, we find solutions that we would never have found had we allowed worry free reign.
One other thing that can be done to tackle our second list (unsolvable problems) is to call all those people you trust or look up to and ask them to join you for a brainstorming session. When you face critical challenges you may isolate yourself because of shame or humiliation. I know because this is what I did and it was not the right thing to do. Gathering 'mind power' from those you have respect for is a positive action. Invite them to get together and then lay your cards on the table by listing all of the problems you don't have a solution for. Ask these people to help you come up with constructive ideas to overcome these. You'd be surprised by what can be achieved this way. Many minds are often better than one. To creatively brainstorm, it is important that people don't judge any idea. Someone can act as a scribe and record every idea that comes up, no matter how ridiculous the ideas might seem. After the brainstorming session, the group can go through the list and discard impractical ideas and then start to work on an effective action plan.
The reason I've related my own experience here is partly to help my friend but also in the hope that others will read this and be helped as well. I know that there are many many people out there struggling through the same kind of circumstances. A few of them have no idea how to tackle their problems. It is my hope that what they will read here will give them a few guidelines. It can't harm can it? Lastly, I'm writing this for my own benefit. Reminding myself about what is important. Remembering how I effectively dealt with challenges in the past. It worked for me then and it will work again. I'm open to learning new things and through this I am. I hope others do too.
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