Heal Our Hearts

"Home is where the heart is..."

And so, it has been said. But when your heart doesn't know where home is, then it has done too much wandering, making homes wherever one wanders. Wander woman.

Year 2015 is almost to run out. But here I am still not yet ready to welcome in the new year. This year has brought too much instability for my little heart that it doesn't even know whether it's home or not. Maybe it's still wandering when it's already home?

I have my stuff in luggages for a long time now... y'know, having to go back and forth between three countries. Somehow this new year seemed to find me still in such a state with my bags still packed even when I'm already home.

Taking Roots: Home, Sweet Home

It has been excruciating for me not to blog or write. Or even think. The past few months have been very strange. Life, though, went as usual, but I felt like a stranger to myself. I wasn't enjoying what I usually found enjoyable, and instead was drifting. The only explanation I could give was that I was trying to adjust to being transplanted, while at the same time finding my roots again. It wasn't an easy journey as seen by the number of blogs  produced in the past five months. But it sure is awesome after finally making sense of what is happening with me.

I have God to thank for, and the people and circumstances, and even a TV show, that showed me what I have been missing for years. (And here I thought I don't watch TV :)) I realized that I have lost my roots. For the many years I have been trying to fly--- away from home and to the places I wanted to be and the person I thought I will be--- I had forgotten that one still needs a home after all the flying is done.

"Let There Be Light!"

source

Only when in darkness do we long and reach out for light. Like...

• Those moments when I get the urge to write and I can't turn on the light because I was sure it'd wake my husband up. (That's why he has a no-lamp rule in the bedrooms.) So I just write in the darkness hoping that by the morrow I could read what I've written.

• Brownout. It's the only time I would risk tripping and falling on my nose while searching for candles or for a flashlight. Before that, they don't matter.

• Those teenage years when God's Word, the light unto my path, was shoved in the farthest corner of my life and I lived like a caveman. I was glad when I finally got to live in the light.

• Those three long days after typhoon Haiyan. I was like in a tunnel, praying desperately to come to the light, yet so afraid I wasn't going to see the dawn of light. But it did come. God made sure of it even before the storm.

Sun on My Smog

It was one of those days. Bright on the outside, but smoggy on the inside. Not that there's real smog floating around. Just me carried around by clouds, flitting or floating around without a single clue of what gives.

It must be the "vacation" I'm in. I mean, since living and working abroad, being back in the Philippines constitutes being on a vacation. It has all that a vacation has, except, I'm doing without a visit to the beach and I still wake up when my 'rooster' (my early-riser baby) starts crowing. Having this break from the usual schedule of kids, chores and work has sort of given me a time-off from my stressed lifestyle and allowed me to relax. Maybe I've relaxed too much that I've let myself go.

When Less Is More

It's the middle of the day and I'm looking at a small peso bill. What can it buy? Several diapers and a little food for the baby, some toiletries, but maybe not enough to give some to my friend for food for the week. Fear jumped on me. And worry started to woo me. Then as suddenly as it came, I remembered how God made Himself real to me by His Word, and worry was stopped in its tracks. I can still vividly remember that night...

Planting Seeds of Responsibility

I went through my usual routine-- saw my husband and preschooler off for the day, had a short worship with my two older children who were staying at home because of school vacation, made breakfast, fed the baby while the two kids ate, had my quick breakfast and got on with the chores. Before loading the laundry in the washing machine, I checked the girls' rooms to make sure there were no stray socks lying around.

I noticed right away Angelika's neatly made bed. She was assigned of making her own bed since age five and even before that, but it has only been recently that she has taken it to heart. It is like the task has become her crowning glory. Her bed looked fit for a princess. I felt pride for my daughter. There has been no need of telling her to do the job.

Tantrum or Timeout?

Image from Pinterest

Sometimes one of my children don't get what she wants. So that child gives me a tantrum. She screams, kicks her legs, and... sulks. She tells me she doesn't want to talk to anyone, especially me.

I tell her to go to her room and come back only when she's ready to talk without biting other people's heads off. My child goes to her room and I can see how hard it is for her to do that. Children are stubborn. They have pride. But often, that child comes out from timeout calmer and a lot more wiser than she was a few minutes ago.

The moments we spent together, the affirmations of my love, and a relationship that makes her feel safe, makes tough times like these easier to handle and experience together. My children know that our relationship is more important than anything they may want.

I recently wanted to go on a tantrum. Well, I did. Shortly. The reason? I didn't get what I want.

I want to go back to my family soon. Right now, I'm in a place where I'm once again feeling very vulnerable, away from the unconditional support of my family. I want to be where I can do what I am supposed to be doing--- taking care of my hearth and home and fulfilling the dreams that I am certain God has put in my heart. But try as I might (with 99% of the work done by my husband), there is no way of going back home as quickly as I really wish. I have to once again endure the waiting, persevere, and exercise my heart to have faith, and not faint, in the face of the challenges. Most of all, the one thing that I wish I didn't have to know and see again, is for my family to go without me--- as my husband's wife and my children's mother.

Maybe you can understand how much I want to be with my family. Maybe not. But there are many times that we want something so much in our life. Maybe you want that dream job so badly, or a difficult situation to end, or a sick loved one to get well, or a house for the family, or a loved one to change... And you didn't get it.

Does God care? He seems so distant, you wonder.

Well, I wondered why God didn't give in to what I want. So I created distance between us.

I threw a tantrum. I got upset.  I screamed silently, balled my hands into fists and as my heart ached, I sulked. I didn't want to talk to anyone, even God. Especially Him. I ignored Him

What is the use of praying when I don't get answers? And God's promises? They sound so faint subdued by the voices telling me so loudly that I have failed.

Then just as quickly as I got mad, I quickly headed to a place in my mind where I could rest. There I found God's Words ringing clearly, shoving away the doubts and fears. I found His presence embracing me, even as I struggled to reject Him. And there, I found surrender. I talked to Him even when I wasn't ready to talk. To Him.

Why didn't He give me what I long for? Because He wants me to long for Him more than anything. And because He wants me to give to Him my longings and all.

Surrender.

It is hard to do that, especially for someone as stubborn as me. I have pride. A lot of it. But even if I went on a timeout reluctantly, I got out of it, calmer, confident and a lot more wiser.

It used to be so easy to have a tantrum. Now I would rather go on a timeout right away. It's because it's easier now to pull God's Words from the shelves in my heart and allow them to restore peace. Also, knowing that God is interested in a relationship with me makes it safe for me to say whatever is in my heart. He's not a wimp that He can't take my troubled questions. He has said, "Come, let us reason together" (Isaiah 1:18). He wants to spend time with me.

I have come to know that any longings that I have is not as important as my relationship with God. All these are just icing on the cake in a life that's spent with Him.

"Seek first the kingdom of God, and His righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you" (Matthew 6:33).

We are also warned about "the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches" that will choke us, leaving us destitute of God. These are not our primary concern, even if in our earthly life they seem to be important.

Our relationship with God should take first place and if given His rightful place, all other concerns, all longings won't be taking up much of the space and peace in our minds as they are placed into God's hands. In His hands, whether He gives us our longings or not, we are certain that we have what our hearts long for--- Him.

In moments when we don't get what we want, there is no need for a tantrum. Take a timeout. Let His Word bring back a divine perspective, talk to Him about your longings, ask Him questions, and receive His peace and wisdom to understand His will. And just as my children come out of timeout calmer and wiser, we too can have a timeout and find rest in God.

Russian Mis-Adventures

Dancing barefoot in a patch of grass in the middle of the city...

I have been told several times that I must be brave for coming to a place without any knowledge about the language people speak.

I don't think I'm brave. Just plain adventurous. And... not so wise for being unprepared.

Being unprepared has set me up to plenty of mishaps.

I also must be a little crazy to do this to myself. But then, hey, it's fun after the stress is gone.

Nora Ephron wrote in her witty, funny book I Feel Bad About My Neck, "When you slip on a banana peel, people laugh at you; but when you tell people you slipped on a banana peel, it's your laugh." So today I want to have a laugh. It's okay, you can laugh at me as I laugh at myself.

Here are some of my 'misadventures' as I foray into the Russian language.

Eggs

One afternoon, I opened the refrigerator door to see what I could whip up for dinner. I had an idea of what I wanted but it would need some eggs. Looking at the empty egg rack, I surmised that I had to run to the store fast before my people starts coming through the door or the baby wakes up making it harder for me to prepare dinner. Obviously, laying an egg is not one of my abilities.

I hurried out of the door, semi-running my way to the nearest grocer in our area. The shop was just a small store and only has one shopkeeper. Some things are kept out of the display area because of lack of space so customers most often need the shopkeeper's help to get what they wanted.

While walking, I realized that I might need to speak in Russian for that reason in order for me to get my eggs. I stopped in my tracks. Oh boy! I didn't know what the word 'egg' is in Russian!

I was thinking at that time whether to go back and look up the word from my Russian book or my phone, which I left behind in my hurry. I decided not to go back as time wouldn't allow it. So I just proceeded to the store.

When I got there, there was only one customer. Good, I didn't want a crowd to witness my embarrassment. I looked around hoping I'd spot eggs so I could only point and not speak. The shop was overflowing with goods and goodies. Even the counter where the cash register was, was all laden up with just about anything people need and want. But I didn't see any eggs on display.

The lady behind the counter asked me what I wanted. I said,

"Eggs."

She looked bewildered. Again I said,

"Eggs." But this time I curled my fingers forming a circle, as if I was holding an egg. (I was a poor student in sign language classes. I never learned anything.)

At that the lady understood that I was speaking a foreign language and told me that she could not understand what I was saying.

I said, "Eggs." Again. I made the round sign with my hand, and flapped my elbows. Too bad I didn't say, "Cluck cluck."

Light dawned in her eyes. I was relieved. I thought, That wasn't so bad.

Then she directed me to a freezer. Oh boy. I don't think eggs are kept in the freezer.

They're not. But chicken wings are.

I told the lady, "Nyet", and said again, "Egg", rounded my hand, flapped my elbows, and was about to turn my back to her and squat to show her the way hens lay eggs, when she said, "Ah! Yaitso!"

I whipped around to see her marching with a smile to the back of the store. For a few minutes I waited, knowing this time that I would get my eggs, even if I still had no idea what she said.

She came out with a bag filled with those round things. She hurriedly rang up the cash register, I paid and made my exit. I went home and tried to remember what 'egg' was in Russian, but only after I told my family and we all had fun laughing at me that they made sure I would never forget the word-- Yaitso! (I'm not clearly good with learning foreign languages either.)

And that, is how I learn my Russian as a foreign language. One Russian word at a time. Golden!

Come here and take this!

Then there was the time I told the bus driver while he was driving to 'come here!'

I was going home from work. It was past eight o'clock in the evening and it was chilly. I got in the first bus that would go pass my home.

I was feeling good with the warmth inside the bus. I watched as people get on and off it. While doing that, I tried to remember what I had to say when it would be approaching my bus stop so I won't have to miss it.

As the bus got closer to my destination, I got my fare ready. I stood up and handed my fare to the driver. I tried to say, "Here's my fare. Please take it." But instead I said something in Russian that means "Come here".

The driver ignored me. I tried extending my hand again and said, "Come here." For added measure or politeness, I said, "Please." I don't know if people were looking at me. They don't have to for me to feel really self-conscious and awkward at this time. I tried again. "Here. Come here."

Well, I'm glad to say that when I was getting off the bus others were too and they told the bus driver to stop the bus so I didn't need to speak anything in Russian. I don't think I would have been confident enough to speak anything, much more something Russian.

I paid my fare when others did. I couldn't get off the bus fast enough.

When I got home, I asked my son what the phrase "Please, take this" in Russian is, and found out my mistake. Instead of saying take this, I was asking the driver to come here! I am so glad he ignored me or we would have a problem getting anywhere!

Washing dishes is no chore when my boy does it. :)

Not so superhero

And... what does one do during emergencies when she does not know the language of the people? Use the internet.

One spring morning, while everybody was at work and I was home with a toddler getting ready for a walk with her to a nearby stream, I heard a strange sound so loud that I thought it must be something bursting in fire. I ran to the kitchen only to find, not fire, but water. It was flowing out from under the sink. I opened the door to the shelf under the sink and saw the source of the water. The pipes have burst. And those pipes were built inside the walls. I looked for an opening on the wall and found one. It was covered by a temporary covering. I tore it and I saw water bursting with so much force from a big pipe. I scrambled around for a towel to put inside the hole but the water was just too strong.

In minutes the kitchen floor was covered up with an inch of water and it was slowly seeping to the next rooms. I couldn't call my husband as he was away on a trip, so I called my mother in law. She was at work and cannot speak English.  I tried to explain to her the situation in my limited Russian. Vada. Ochen mnoga.

Thankfully, she understood me. She right away got on a taxi. In the mean time, I tried to wring the water out with a towel through the sink, then bail it out with a pail. When it was impossible, I tried to salvage some things from getting wet and damaged. Then I thought about asking help from the neighbors. Maybe one of them knows how to switch off the main control to the water.

I ran to my phone, googled 'help' in Russian and got 'pomoch'. So I told my little girl to wait by the door, as I hurried to our neighbor's apartment. I knocked on their door and called, "Pomoch! Pomoch!" Nobody opened it. I called and knocked again. Nothing.

So I ran to another door, knocked, yelled, "Pomoch! Pamoch!" No one came out.

I was going to run up to the next floor to do the same, but decided against it because my toddler was already scared and I couldn't leave her in the house with all those water flowing out. I had to do something about it. Obviously, nobody was home in any of these flats or they were and didn't want to respond.

Who could blame them? Some hero gone lunatic was running around, shouting if people need her help! Yes, I found out later that I wasn't asking for help but offering people help. The right word to say when asking for help is not pomoch but pomagite.

Anyway, the water problem got solved when a plumber came to fix the pipes up, and the water got cleaned up. But as a beginner of the Russian language, this experience (of learning how to ask for help and offer help) has helped me in many instances--- at the supermarket, at the park when I'm overloaded with the baby, the baby bag and the kids want me to get them some ice cream, counting out coins, and when the baby pram acts up.

Choose JOY

All of these 'adventures' weren't so funny at the moment they happened (although being me I could laugh myself out of an awkward situation), but now make my days whenever I remember them. All of these are reflections of God's wonderful sense of humor. All of these happened in a stressful time and all of these provided me many wonderful moments of mirth.

God said, "A happy heart is like a good medicine. But a broken spirit drains your strength" (Proverbs 17:22, NCV).

The recent days has seen my newsfeed flooded with disturbing and distressing news from around the world and even from friends. It would just be natural for me to allow myself to muddle around and be down on the dumps. However, I choose JOY. It is my intention to live happy and free, and to remember to laugh. Because those who forget to laugh, forget how to live and how to love.

We need to create an environment of joy. With such an environment, the bond of love is easy to find. This is where we thrive and not merely survive, truly live and not barely breathe.

When we laugh, we take in big gulps of life-giving air and give the sweetest music to the ear--- full of life and passion.

Laughing at ourselves elevates us from being victims. We take back control of an out-of-control situation. We become heroes.

Someone once said, "Happy is the woman who can laugh at herself, she will never cease to be amused."

Grab the opportunity to laugh today. It's God's weapon against worry, stress and fear. You can share with us some of your own 'adventures' in life by commenting below. (And thanks, someone might be needing a laugh today... and my 'adventures' may not be funny enough. Haha.)

As for me, my Russian misadventures would probably go on as I continue to learn the language. There's no giving up when one is having so much fun. And nothing beats fun. So, I'm still on board.





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Aging in Grace

Doing her walk. Barefoot.
Which I so love to do!

Midlife. Life do accelerates after midlife.

So do aging. Wrinkles. Worries. And wilting.

May is my birth month. I just had my birthday. Another one in so many that I am blessed with. They are sure coming one after the other! Praise God!

This has been the first year that I have spent a whole year as an alien in Russia. Knowing from my previous experience of living in a foreign land, I will soon have to say goodbye to the honeymoon stage.

Life goes on.

And tomorrow will be my youngest baby's first birthday. And though I wish I can bake a cake, I prefer to buy one and spare myself the trouble of going crazy over flour strewn around looking like baby powder all over my kitchen. There is also the problem of what to do with an inedible cake. I don't even have any idea what baking powder is, or baking soda, or if a cake needs yeast or not. (If I sound ignorant, that is because I am. I am terrible in baking. That's why I am so mighty proud of my Bilinchik/Russian pancakes. Which, by the way, doesn't include baking.)

My baby, though, is not aging. I am.

Somebody suggested that I should stop counting my age. For him, it's just too many years and the more years, the more it gets embarrassing to mention.

Maybe he is right.

I'm no longer the young girl that I was.

But I don't feel even a tiny bit sorry for being past that season--- not with the acnes, the awkwardness and uncertainties.

Does this mean that I am for aging--- wrinkles, aches, senility and a boring existence?

Wrinkles, well... I am now careful with my sun exposure which was unheard of when I was younger. Having too much sun is dangerous. It's widely known now how sun exposure causes wrinkles, sagging and accelerates ageing.

Aches. Got to exercise!

But a boring existence? Really? As I grow older, I encounter more challenges than I care to handle.

And senility? How about if I read more books and make more friends than I care to eat my chocolates? That would be good for my aging brain.

Or maybe they mean, serenity. No amount of challenge can move you when you have already encountered them all. (Especially if you have moved  past the embarrassing and the murky.)

I prefer to thank God for adding years into my life, and ask, "What else do you have for me, Lord?"

Each new day is a miracle. In it is the knowledge that I may be growing in maturity and wisdom. If not, then I am given another chance to grow.

With age comes the promise of the fulfillment of dreams and richer experiences.

I'm looking at the other side of the coin--- the one filled with possibilities, life and adventure.

Besides, life is too short. God reminded me of how it really is.

As David was in anguish over the wicked, trying not to sin with his mouth by keeping silent, his feelings burned within him. (Can relate much. Sigh.) And he cried,

“Show me, Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days;
    let me know how fleeting my life is.
5 You have made my days a mere handbreadth;
    the span of my years is as nothing before you.
Everyone is but a breath,
    even those who seem secure."

Then David prayed. He is positive. And that kind of thinking is anti-aging.

“But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you.
8 Save me from all my transgressions;
    do not make me the scorn of fools.

Hear my prayer, Lord,
    listen to my cry for help;
    do not be deaf to my weeping.
I dwell with you as a foreigner,
    a stranger, as all my ancestors were.
13 Look away from me, that I may enjoy life again before I depart and am no more.”
(Psalm 39:4,5,8,9,12,13)

My hope is in God. So is everyone else who believes in Him. In Him is salvation from sin, and our wrinkled, wracked-with-sin bodies. In Him we find grace.

We find a rich supply of grace as we live our short, borrowed lives in a world that is not truly ours. We dwell with Him.

Aging becomes not just a process we go through but a gift full of possibilities and one of it is the hope of getting closer to the heart of Jesus.

Growing wiser.
Making good choices.
Living a full and abundant life.
Leaving a legacy.

Aging in grace.

When Resignation is NOT an Option for a Burned Out Mom, What is?

The kids enjoying the sunshine...

Yesterday I was totally exhausted even before the clock struck 12 o'clock midday. And it was also the day I had to go out to work.

Yes, I only go out to work once a week and am compensated very well for all that trouble of dressing up and looking presentable. Most days of the week, I stay at home or work from home. I know, I'm more than blessed.

But yesterday I wasn't feeling blessed. I was feeling burned out... and feeling so alone in my struggle to keep up with all the things that I had to do as a mom, that I was ready to throw in the towel and resign.

Then I remembered. I am a mom. A mother. One who has to be on duty 24/7 and has no idea where to hand in her resignation.

Pathfinding 2: Redeeming Jonah, Redeeming Me

This pathway is made more interesting and fun
with companions like these!

"Love your enemies... do good to those who hate you." I sighed as I read the verses Matthew 5:43 and 44 again and again. "Pray for those who spitefully use you..." I sighed again. I whispered, "It's so hard, Lord."

I am a proud person. In my family, I am probably the most independent, headstrong, and quite a braggart. I needed a heart change. God knows this and this is probably the reason why I am where I am, and going through what I am going through.

Pathfinding 1: The Jonah Journey

Scarecrow-ing around for fun. :)

I volunteer for an organization that teaches and brings up children, young men and women with life skills and a rich spiritual life. It is similar to boy/girl scouting, yet more as it gives its members a sense of direction and meaning in life.

I, myself, grew up in this Pathfinder's Club. Now, I am given the privilege to be an instructor.

Pathfinder's Club uses the Word of God, the Bible, as its main source of knowledge and wisdom; and any other textbooks used has to be weighed against it.

For the past two Saturday afternoons, I taught my class about Jonah. I told it as simply as I could, as the children are not familiar with the Bible and the stories in it. Granted that the kids got it simple, my mind, though, was turning the story around, and up and down. That being the case, though the story of Jonah is out of the ordinary (not everyone gets swallowed by a fish), I found a path--- familiar and well-trodden.

Status: In a Relationship

Taking selfies... (when we're not butting heads) :D

"Mom, I think I should be punished." My son popped his head out of the bathroom door where he was getting ready to take a shower as he uttered those dire words. I was surprised at what he said but deep inside I was doing a victory song and dance: "My God is working! My God is working!"

10 Things I Love About Being a Mom

My precious-es!

I am a mother of four and it can get overwhelming at times. From the moment I wake up to the time I can finally rest I am constantly barraged by small bodies with cute voices, their questions and curiosities and the never-ending tasks that go along with raising them. But as we all know, children come with, not only a huge responsibility, but also with loads and loads of joy. Life has never been better than when I became a mom. I know I had great times before my little ones came, but I can't remember now what it was like without them. Here are some of the things I really would have missed if I'm not a mom... and for which I am very thankful to God.

1. Smothered in sloppy wet kisses and tight happy hugs. Children just can't get enough of kisses and hugs. And neither can I. Having four, I often run out of time just doing these and even that is not enough. I'm not complaining. It's simply the best part of being a parent. All the hard work is forgotten with just a smile, a kiss or a hug from my children.

Spring Herald

Spring Herald, You wake us up into Your breathtaking beauty! Oh, how words are bursting from within me and into my pen. You warm us up with the daylight sun, melting the icy places in our hearts. You invite us into the splendor of Your presence. We are left speechless and in awe. You are magnificent to behold!

Praying My Marriage to True Love

Courtesy of my sister Helen's photography...
and her and my bro-in-law's lovely hands. ;)

My marriage has gone through rocks, ravines and valleys. And back again. I am praying it will survive.

Three years ago we did a major move. That move proved to be a catalyst of many challenges. Oh, how it has shaken our lives, our beliefs, our characters, our faith and our love for each other. It hasn't been easy. If we make it through August, my husband and I would be celebrating a huge landmark in our marriage--- the 10th.

On Winter, Fishing and Life

Ella on the ice. Fishing!

So we went ice fishing a few Sundays ago. The whole family did. This is not a first for many in our family, except for me and the baby. (Yes, the baby went ice fishing too. And yes, all of my children had experienced getting fish from their previous fishing trips. Except for me and the baby.) So this was somehow our initiation into winter fishing. Fishing on ice is very new to me.

My son asked me tonight, "Mom, did you eat snow when you were little?" They've been told not to eat snow and, trying to be honest, they just mentioned over dinner that they've eaten a little bit of it. What child can resist white, resplendent, cold snow? To my son's question, I  replied that I haven't even seen snow until I was 23 years old.

A Haiyan Survivor's Tribute

Angelika drew as she told me
what she had gone through.
I listened with my heart beating so fast.
I am one blessed mother! (Check out our video.)