My New Lent Perspective

Lent season had just begun, so I thought I should shift into a more inspiring reflection.

I have a heart condition –not the usual stuff that bitter songwriters put in their sad songs. My thing is a coronary stent inserted into my artery to keep blood flowing to the heart where there used to be a partial blockage. “Partial” here means substantially partial -80% blockage. Almost seven years have passed since then. Yet occasionally, I still experience episodes of missing heartbeats and thumping palpitations. Like a broken percussion instrument or a bass guitar gone haywire.

As I live with this illness, I refuse to surrender to despair. I run, I play, I exercise. I work, too. And every time my ticker misses a beat, I proclaim boldly that my God is bigger than any illness, more powerful than any challenge life may bring, and greater than the greatest. Instead of dwelling on the problem, like worrying about who would inherit my golf clubs if I died, I fix my gaze on His boundless power and promise of healing. As an old song goes, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.”

Each skipped heartbeat, each palpitation becomes a poignant reminder of God’s grace and love. In faith through prayer, I affirm His power to bring complete healing. This shift in mindset transforms fear into hope, infusing me with courage and resilience. I cling to the comforting truth that God’s grace is more than sufficient for me. In my weakness, His strength shines way brighter than my forehead.

Now, I journey on with renewed faith, trusting that with every beat of my heart, I am being restored. Hey, that sounds like good material for a love song, don’t you think?

I am using this Lenten season as a time of reflection and renewal to deepen my connection with God and reaffirm my trust in His healing power. May you, too, have a blessed season of Lent.

Cheers!

PS. I’m apprenticing to be the assistant barista in our household. Today is my 4th day. Pls be patient with the latte art.

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The Pimple Years

Puberty is defined by many as that equally delightful and unpleasant time when hormones, emotions, and pimples rage like there’s no adulthood. For me, the rage percentage was 10% hormones, 10% emotions, and 80% pimples. At its peak, it was -5%, -5%, and +110%, respectively. The core part of my adolescent identity spun around pimples. While my high school classmates were busy deciphering the intricacies of Algebra and Physics, I was busy conducting my own anatomic exploration -Pimples 101. Every morning, I’d wake up to a face that resembled the map of Andromeda with millions of glowing stars represented by zit breakouts. They overstayed their welcome on my face; I named them all, like astronomers naming stars and planets.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I was willing to try anything to banish those pesky pimples. Clearasil? Check! Calamansi? You bet! Lyna cream? Of course! Johnson’s baby powder? Sure! Nothing worked. Instead, they multiplied faster than I could name them.

By college time, amidst the backdrop of martial law in the Philippines (because apparently, even the abusive government couldn’t handle my acne uprising), the pimples finally retreated like a defeated dictator after a long and arduous battle. But those pimples weren’t going down without a fight. Sure, they left behind their battle scars, but I wear those marks with dignity. As I gaze into the mirror, I see not just the remnants of acne wars past, but a reminder of the resilience that got me through it all. Because let’s face it, all battles can be won face-to-face, especially if the problem is your face.

So here’s to surviving puberty’s epic battle of the blackheads vs. the whiteheads; to clear skin and the wisdom that comes from facing adversity face-on. And remember, no matter how bad it gets, just keep smiling -it’s harder for pimples to find a home on a happy face.

Cheers!

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The 2024 Psalm

So there goes January. Doing a bit like February, gone fast and furious. That’s 8⅓ percent gone in the blink of an eye. Normally, this is when I’d be doing my self-assessment look-back -you know, checking which New Year’s resolutions survived the onslaught of the initial ups and downs of 2024. But I’ve learned my lesson -I decided to skip the resolution musical this time. No resolutions, no disappointments, right?

So what does that leave me with? Now is a perfect opportunity to take stock of the opening chunk of the year. It’s like a SONA (State of the Nation Address) without the lies. And false promises. And pork barrels. And fancy gowns.

Whether it’s personal improvement, business matters, family relations, or golf, I am well aware that repeating last year’s actions will likely result in identical outcomes. As a witty t-shirt might boldly proclaim, it’s a case of “Same Sh*t, Different Year.” So profound.

I am hopeful, though. This 2024 song hasn’t even hit the chorus yet. I haven’t gone off-key, either. I mean, I am good but I need to be better. 

One thing’s for sure -January may be swift, but it’s given me some sort of a tune material to keep this song playing to my beat. 

Here’s to progress, no matter how andante they come by, and to the 91⅔ percent of the year waiting to pull an ensemble on us! 

Cheers!

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