You can still call me grace (a repost from a 2005 blog)

Walking along Yakal's first-floor corridor on my way to my dorm room, I heard a faintly familiar voice behind me. She was calling some name that didn't quite register to my ears, at least not after around fifteen seconds of her foot in her mouth. "Mary grace...?" she cautiously called/asked. Dead air. Then it hits me. I turned around and I saw an old classmate from way back grade school-- foot out of her mouth already, with a wide grin on her face.

Cut me some slack. I needed the time to absorb the idea of the two disjointed eras of my life encountering each other .

I've always been Grace, well, Mary Grace to this particular old friend. Ironically, I've never fully known grace, then. As a matter of fact, I hated my name. I hated how common it was. No, it wasn't really the name I guess, I just hated the fact that I was common; that i looked ordinary; that I did average; that i performed so-so. It was my pre-teen to adolescent struggle-- to be somebody; to stand out; to be... ugh... pathetic, I know... special. That, plus a name that would turn hundreds of heads in a crowded room.

And thus the master plan. Stepping to college-dom, I, my good friend Yo, and my roommate decided to change my name. Nothing legal. They just gave me a semi-common nickname. Yes that's how you came about calling me Meg. I guess, I thought then, that getting a new name changes everything about me.

Really, it didn't. I went about feeling the same way.

Regardless of the failed plan, the name stuck. Convenient 'twas, anyway, to give way to the Graces who wished to hold on to their names.

I remember my Mom used to say, "Grasya ka talaga!" (You're really "grace") whenever I get my aguinaldo, gifts, special favor or any unexpected provision in times of hopelesness. I never quite understood what she meant. Not until now.

I've been experiencing grace... no, let me rephrase that, I've been seeing grace with a new perspective lately.

Ain't it amazing? How things work out, though you're the least deserving? How you don't get fired from life when you don't even deserve the job at the first place? How your life is not even enough to pay-off all what you owe, yet you are still showered with gifts? How this One called Love, gives you hope anew? How you stand on Someone else's righteousness? I would recount all the ways, only, I know I would fail. My proud heart has probably overlooked far too much of this beautiful gift I receive each day.

Boy, do I feel special now.

I am Meg to most now. I learned that "Meg" means "a pearl". True enough, He has made sense of all the dirt and mire, and miraculously produced something beautiful with it.

But you can still call me Grace.

Skip to December 7, 2005-- For Jackie :)

This was posted on my blog-city blog last December 2005. It just reminded me of my dinner conversation with Jackie the other night...


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Giving in to the most romantic invitation of coming away, I was surprised at the first stop over-- inside of me. "Why would i want to journey here Lord?" I seek adventure, I seek depth and height all at the same time. But inside of me?

I've been catching my breath for the past couple of weeks. I have often been overcome with the feeling of bursting-- a need to stop to cater to my inability to contain-- uncontainable passion at times, uncontanable sorrow as well.

I have never felt as awakened in my life as I am now. Not even as the day I met the Lord. No, I don't remember ever having the ability to dream and to soar as I do now. I feel so alive; so in-love with life.

Every morning, my 1-year-old nephew would come into my room and wake me up with his excitement and vigor. At times I would resist, but who wouldn't give in to the spirit of a child ready to take in a brand new day? I would often wonder why I have never seen him sluggishly linger on his bed or cover his face with a blanket when each daylight kisses him good morning. But then again, a little bit more than 365 days here on earth has not yet given him enough trouble for him to refuse it.

The vigor of the newness of life.

For quite a while there I chose to be numb. So as not to feel the pain perhaps? Unfortuntely shunning Life as well. But like a frozen heart beginning to thaw, I begin to feel. I begin to feel alive, ready to chase after my dreams.

I also begin to feel the pain.

One night, the Lord just spoke to me with surprising words-- "Admit the pain." All my speeding dreams came to a halt. Do I have to? isn't forgetting a part of the forgiving? COmplying to the insistent Voice, I gave way to the flood of emotions and like a cheated child, I wept.

"Now forgive."

You can't forgive someone for an offense you yourself deny. I thought I was too righteous to take offense: Too mature to be affected. But I still live in fallen world and in a fallen self.

And you can't truly live until you truly die.

I am really doing a lot of dying inside. Don't you feel like dying when somebody pokes at your wounds back when you were a child? Forgetting all the good meaning of the process, you just cry as if saying, "Why are you killing me with this pain?"

But you can never run again, until you heal. You can never feel the wind on your face or chase after butterflies and rainbows if you choose to hide the wounds.

But I want to live.

And so I welcome it all... just to feel life once again.

Posted Feb 24, 2005. The Phantom of the Opera is here... inside my head

To whom does true love belong?

Is it to the man who poured himself out to a woman whom he loved from the darkness of his hiding?

Or is it to the boy, now all grown in stature, who blossomed with her shoulder to shoulder, and who has seen her at her worst?

Is it to the Voice who captivates her?

Or to the Warmth that brings all that is real?

Could it be perhaps to the woman who, amidst all the fears, had dared to love?

To her who tried to look beyond the deformity of the face... even that of the soul?

Is it maybe to the man who would give all.. and kill all.. for her glory?

Or to the other who beseeched to be her freedom?

Is it to him who let go?

or to the brave one who fought til the end?

Is it to him who gave her happiness?

or to the other who, in darkness, loved til her last breath?

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remnants of the movie inside my head.

btw, why do you think should you keep your hand to the level of your eyes?

huling hirit na po on love. pagpapaalam sa buwan ng pebrero.

Posted: Feb 20,2005

Dear you,

Hear I am, indulging again in the foolishness of writing to someone I am yet to know. Luanne is actually baffled with my audacity to write such intimate musings on-line. I guess deep down I'm hoping I'd get through you somehow- like a hi-tech way of going up the mountains and screaming from the top of my lungs at the world, hoping you'd hear.

I am supposed to be somewhere now. At the UPfair actually. All my college life, I've lived for the fair. To spend at least a night there, smoking my lungs out, damaging my eardrums and getting drunk, only to wake up the next morning (or afternoon), really sore. Maybe its because I dropped all those vices that I think I have nothing to do there anyway. Or maybe I just outgrew it. I am glad I've met old friends there, but I decided to make a detour to a netshop before I go back in to all the noise; To finally write down all these things going on inside my mind.

It gets pathetic I know. I just badly need an affirmation that you're there, somewhere, right now.

I had a talk with a friend the other day and she says you don't exist-- that is, there is no such thing as a person destined for you. God respects our choices, she says and would gladly bless our decision. It took me aback. MAybe it was all those sweetdreams and romance novels I've devoured since I was eight that I became such a sucker for destiny. Along the way, I tried to brush it away as being merely idealistic, but believing in a good, sovereign God makes it so hard to deny.

-- -- -- -- --

The other night, I went out with someone from the past.

All night I've been thinking, "why not indulge in the insanity of the night?"

Why not lean closer to catch his scent? Why not blush with all those sweet nothings he allowed to slip out before he bit his lip? Why not surrender my hand to his? Why not drown in his eyes for a while? And why not give him a goodbye kiss and blame it all on the moon?

But then I remember you.

That night, all I had to offer was a friendly handshake. As his hand slowly slid from mine while he was walking away, and as I watched his back grow smaller to the dark horizon, I knew I made a choice.

You better be really worth the wait.

Posted: Feb 12, 2005: Post-Victory Highs (and lows)

I've always thought of myself as non-adventurous. I've always found refuge in things... reliable. Why choose something new over something tested, I always say.

I think my housmates are about to throw up already with the perpetual sight of tofu in our ref. It's my current default food since the on-set of my domesticated phase (I suddenly felt like cooking my own food and washing my own clothes).

One of my student's mom was surprised to see me yesterday wearing girly stilettos. She must've thought I wear my favorite sneakers to sleep. Well, I'm really not boring, if that's how it sounds. If it doesn't involve too much risk like a slightly modified hairdo or a new ingredient to my tofu- like oyster sauce for Monday, Egg and Flour for Tuesday and (I know Luanne is dying to hear this) Toge (beansprouts) on Wednesday.

Okay, okay. I know its more than just being 'non-adventurous'. And don't worry God is shaking me out of my cowardice. Just yesterday, the Lord asked me to go out from my ususal day to face one of my Giants. One that I've been running from for months now. (Thanks Mommy Jill and Kim for your prayers!). True enough, God gave me victory. I just can't remember the last time I had the same high. The high of defeating something that would naturally crush me, only God was on my side.

The other day, during a party in a co-teacher's place, I heard a couple who excitedly told stories about their recent conquests (crusades). Unexpectedly, tears stung my eyes so bad I thought I'd embarrass myself. Tears of envy maybe... and of longing for my own adventures I guess. At times like these I realize I'm made for something else more than a predictable life. When all the fears are momentarily brushed away, deep within my heart I see the love for adventure there. I am made for this. Of all the titles I've acquired as a Christian, (i.e. 'daughter', 'servant', 'light' and all that), I dispised 'warrior' the most. It just didn't fit my preference for unruffled, undisturbed pseudo-peaceful life. But that didn't change the fact though. I am one.

One thing I recenlty learned-- though I choose to close my eyes to the war around me, it doesn't go away. As a matter of fact, a soldier with eyes closed is a soldier just the same. Only more likely to get hit-- Not as a civillian casualty but as a foolish target who doesn't use her armor and ammunition. That leaves me with no choice I guess.

Maiba ako. It's the 12th already. The clock ticks til the 17th. Would the elephants realize the chains are loose? (haha, those who have ears let them hear). This elephant is having a hard time playing the field, hehe.


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SOme things could really change in the span of two years huh? ;)

Way Back... Into Love?

Posted: January 30,2005

What do you do when an old lover lingers by your doorstep?

I inhale the scent of yesterday and realize it wasn't just a dream. There's a vague taste of nostalgia, but twas too disjointed from reality really to unearth memories I refuse to acknowledge.

What do you do when an old lover says hello?

I wonder if time stopped from where he stood or I just thought I've ran far enough already. Do old lovers really trail behind, though you think it was all abandoned?

What do you do when an old lover smiles?

Almost a stranger, but too familiar to be one. And I, much different from the one who was in his arms(but not entirely changed I guess, to be unrecognized).

What do you do when an old lover reaches out his hand?

Looking forward to the vast unknown that lies before me, then looking back to the comfort of familiar arms... I hesitate for a while.

But that is not where I belong.

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pangunahan ko na kayo. Hindi ito dahil kay ano. I just found it a fitting metaphor.

flashback: Of Lovers in Paris and Finding the Right One

Posted January 23 2005

My roommate is currently obsessed with the craze of the town. It's not that I'm not into 'lovers' myself, I did force my eyes open when I heard Kitchie Nadal singing through my roomie's computer sound blasters that fateful Saturday (early) morning. It was Lovers in Paris volume 16, 17 and the final episode 20. Forced to analyze the whole thing every few minutes, in sync with my roommate's sporadic thoughts of the Koreanovela ending, I realized one thing. Vivian and Carlo were wondering--if things wouldn't have happened as they did, would they still have met? The ending answered their question. The scene showed Vivian, on her first day in Paris having dinner by herself, with Carlo just right behind her. Unfortunately, they were totally oblivous of each other.

If watching Lovers in Paris is also one of your guilty pleasures, you would realize that they've actually became conscious of each other's exsitence way after Vivian arrived in Paris. Their "story," though, actually started way earlier than they thought it did, during those fleeting brushes with destiny that only heavenly beings witnessed. Who knows, they might've even shopped in the same grocery store in Korea or something.

Well it kindov reminded me of my own "story." A couple of years ago, I posted my testimony in peyups.com about my whirlwind romance with, who else, my wonderful JC. Now I realized, it wasn't as "sudden" as my cold turkey quitting of my old life. The first time I actually heard of Jesus and prayed THE prayer was when I was eight years old. Even before that, I couldn't even fathom how many "brushes" with destiny I have had already. That was how long the actual pursuit was,before I was shaken to my senses and realized Love was right there under my nose.

Now I wonder...

A few hours ago, while talking to my co-teacher, Nate (who was a college batchmate), another co-teacher made a joke about me getting married (take note: it was a joke .) Suddenly, Nate brightened up, being so glad for me and all, and said "oh yeah? me too!" (Refering to her recent engagement with the love of her life).Kinda embarassing to explain that it was jsut a joke, really.

I can't believe that the idea of me in a wedding dress is nothing but a source of comic relief for me when its actual reality for someone of the same age. Yeah, yeah, I know God has his IEPs (Individualized Education Plan)for all of us. I was just wondering if, once again, I am making the pursuit so long, delaying the happy ever after, when 'the one' might just be under my nose... with me being so stubborn to mature (and be ready for God's will) AGAIN.

Far be it I hope. Far be it.