MISSION UNACCOMPLISHED
“If you are no longer talked about, you are finished and shall soon be forgotten”, so said someone, somewhere, sometime. It simply signified that you were no longer active, no longer seen around. Your existence were barely felt by others. You were either considered too weak or too sick if not yet dead.
This was the agony of a senior citizen. His activities were limited, his movements were minimized either by ailments or circumstances that prohibited him from getting involved in various activities, sometimes as ordered by his children who thought they were doing him good.
So I launched a book that I started writing 50 years ago. It was an entirely different book – semi historical, semi legendary. A compilation of my personal impressions about my hometown. Some thought it was weird if not outrageous. Thus it generated controversies that many didn’t like it . Someone deducted that half of the readers didn’t like the way it was presented but I was sure that the other half enjoyed it immensely. The optimist in me banked on the satisfied and gratified as well as enlightened 50 % of the readers. It was enough for me to consider my book successful and more than enough to keep people talking about me. I was far from being finished yet.
To add more intrigue for a more substantial topic of discussion, I was hit by a speeding motorbike. I saw it directly onrushing to my path but a mysterious force pushed me just a hair line away before I fell down without hurting myself as the same mysterious force saved me and prevented my head from hitting the pavement.
Onlookers at the Municipal Park screamed and rushed to my rescue when they saw the incident. Many offered help, volunteering to bring me to the hospital. Many expected me to have sustained massive abrasions, contusions, dislocations and fractures all over my body but nothing of that sort happened. People suggested that I file a complaint against the unlicensed driver of a borrowed motorbike. But I left it to the Policemen to evaluate the violations and to observed their part and duty as guardians of the public.
For days people kept talking about that incident. They kept on talking about me and that way they kept me alive. Perhaps God wanted me to stay for a more while for a certain mission that I must accomplished. But what could be the mission? I hope the Guardian Angel who saved me shall appear in my dream one of these nights to explain to me how I should go about my unaccomplished mission.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
ROADSIDE THRILLER
ROADSIDE THRILLER
A young man together with his two little nephews went to a bakery to buy bread. He parked his van in front of the bakery not knowing that the younger nephew followed him after locking and closing the door. The key was left inside with the other boy about 5 years old.
Every thing was seemingly normal except that when the boy inside was told to open the door of the car he couldn’t. Perhaps he didn’t know how to maneuver the lock and his uncle didn’t know what to do immediately. His apprehension caught the attention of many people at the plaza including about a dozen of uniformed policemen who all gathered and peeped at the boy who was trapped inside.
Unaware of what was actually going on the boy inside began to panic. Fear was all over his face as people continued peeping at him and instructing him to do this and that. Meantime a man carrying a hard wire and a flier came to help. He inserted the wire on top of the door trying to pull the lock but it simply didn’t work. There were so much suspense and drama. It was like watching a portion of a telenovela.
Onlookers were panicky too, fearing that the boy might be suffocated or might accidentally start the car. More people gathered around the car as even moving buses stopped to watch the event. The boy in turn got more terrified while the uncle was greatly confused.
Varied suggestions were offered by various people but they only added fear to the trapped boy and more confusion to the already confused crowd. After about almost an hour the kibitzers also got tired and one by one they left. The boy inside possibly thought that the danger was over because there were no more big eyes staring at him. He leaned to the door of the back seat, pulled the lock and Eureka the door of the car was opened.
The uncle had to pause for a while. He couldn’t quickly start the car as he was trying to decipher what hit him early in the morning.
A young man together with his two little nephews went to a bakery to buy bread. He parked his van in front of the bakery not knowing that the younger nephew followed him after locking and closing the door. The key was left inside with the other boy about 5 years old.
Every thing was seemingly normal except that when the boy inside was told to open the door of the car he couldn’t. Perhaps he didn’t know how to maneuver the lock and his uncle didn’t know what to do immediately. His apprehension caught the attention of many people at the plaza including about a dozen of uniformed policemen who all gathered and peeped at the boy who was trapped inside.
Unaware of what was actually going on the boy inside began to panic. Fear was all over his face as people continued peeping at him and instructing him to do this and that. Meantime a man carrying a hard wire and a flier came to help. He inserted the wire on top of the door trying to pull the lock but it simply didn’t work. There were so much suspense and drama. It was like watching a portion of a telenovela.
Onlookers were panicky too, fearing that the boy might be suffocated or might accidentally start the car. More people gathered around the car as even moving buses stopped to watch the event. The boy in turn got more terrified while the uncle was greatly confused.
Varied suggestions were offered by various people but they only added fear to the trapped boy and more confusion to the already confused crowd. After about almost an hour the kibitzers also got tired and one by one they left. The boy inside possibly thought that the danger was over because there were no more big eyes staring at him. He leaned to the door of the back seat, pulled the lock and Eureka the door of the car was opened.
The uncle had to pause for a while. He couldn’t quickly start the car as he was trying to decipher what hit him early in the morning.
Friday, July 3, 2009
A PRIEST FOREVER
A PRIEST FOREVER
I have long wanted to write about Priests and Priesthood but I always ended up groping in the dark. Priesthood is a profession and a vocation that entails endless sacrifice and hardship. It needed strong determination, self discipline and many extraordinary characters to attain the goal.
The life of a Parish Priest must be very difficult, I just realized after I had a casual chat with our new Parish Priest. I could imagine the difficulties he would encounter during the adjustment period. To be able to cope with the whims of thousands of supposed to be followers who have their own individual ideas on how the Church should be.
Intermingling with these regular churchgoers with irregular moods was never a walk in the woods. There are the ‘convent hangers’ who think the convent is their own house as well as other church goers with their own peculiarities in characters. There are the other religious sects, the ‘born again’, the ‘born already’ and the ‘born also’ that needed to be dealt with intelligently.
Furthermore, a Priest most of all is also human, with his own genetic traits. He too gets hungry and tired. His own emotion could also be adversely affected by unwanted incidents that occur around his life.
A little mistake or mild shortcoming is quickly magnified. He has no one to quickly turn to during moments of weakness. He also needs a shoulder-to-cry-on even while his own shoulder is still dripping with tears of others.
It is about time parishioners should pay more attention, consideration, understanding and compassion to their Parish Priest. Let us forgive them too even if they do not directly confess to us.
A Priest is a Priest forever according to the order of Melquiesedec. Let us adjust to him while he is adjusting to us without expecting perfection. Let us wear his shoes once in a while just to have a feel of how it is to be one. After all a Priest is Christ’s representative to look after us. He is as fragile as we all are because our bones and his are not different. Our flesh and his are just the same. Our blood and his are of the same color and content.
Without the cooperation and help of the parishioner a priest can actually do nothing but without the Priest that caters to our spiritual needs we all shall be damned.
I have long wanted to write about Priests and Priesthood but I always ended up groping in the dark. Priesthood is a profession and a vocation that entails endless sacrifice and hardship. It needed strong determination, self discipline and many extraordinary characters to attain the goal.
The life of a Parish Priest must be very difficult, I just realized after I had a casual chat with our new Parish Priest. I could imagine the difficulties he would encounter during the adjustment period. To be able to cope with the whims of thousands of supposed to be followers who have their own individual ideas on how the Church should be.
Intermingling with these regular churchgoers with irregular moods was never a walk in the woods. There are the ‘convent hangers’ who think the convent is their own house as well as other church goers with their own peculiarities in characters. There are the other religious sects, the ‘born again’, the ‘born already’ and the ‘born also’ that needed to be dealt with intelligently.
Furthermore, a Priest most of all is also human, with his own genetic traits. He too gets hungry and tired. His own emotion could also be adversely affected by unwanted incidents that occur around his life.
A little mistake or mild shortcoming is quickly magnified. He has no one to quickly turn to during moments of weakness. He also needs a shoulder-to-cry-on even while his own shoulder is still dripping with tears of others.
It is about time parishioners should pay more attention, consideration, understanding and compassion to their Parish Priest. Let us forgive them too even if they do not directly confess to us.
A Priest is a Priest forever according to the order of Melquiesedec. Let us adjust to him while he is adjusting to us without expecting perfection. Let us wear his shoes once in a while just to have a feel of how it is to be one. After all a Priest is Christ’s representative to look after us. He is as fragile as we all are because our bones and his are not different. Our flesh and his are just the same. Our blood and his are of the same color and content.
Without the cooperation and help of the parishioner a priest can actually do nothing but without the Priest that caters to our spiritual needs we all shall be damned.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
A HAIRLINE FROM DEATH
A HAIRLINE FROM DEATH
From the netcafe I was on my way to the school to meet our new Parish Priest. As has been my habit lately, considering my age, I was walking carefully and very slowly against the traffic along the sidewalk.
There was a normally passing passenger bus followed by a rushing motorcycle heeding towards me. I thanked God that my presence of mind and strong instinct of protection caused my reflexes to make a sway just a little bit to my left enough to avoid the oncoming motorcycle by a hairline. But I also fell down. I hurt my right wrist, my right elbow and my right flank. I immediately and successfully stood up. Again I thanked God my head didn’t hit the cemented pavement.
People quickly came to help me. As it turned out, the motorcycle driver was about to overtake the bus but it slowed down to allow passengers to get out. So, the motorcycle hit me instead.
I brought the driver to the police station to blotter the incident. I was asked if I would file a complaint against the driver. I said: “Why me? Here he is admitting that he is driving a borrowed motorcycle without a license and not wearing a helmet. They were all traffic violations that should be punished by the police”.
I also discovered that the driver was driving with a metallic right leg. I left him to the police for the necessary disposition and penalties to serve as warning to so many others who were driving like him putting passers-by at great risk.
Reflecting on what happened a day after I realized that God was probably reminding me that life was just a flash of light that could vanish instantly. That in spite of all the care in my movements I was still vulnerable. But reviewing the scene, I was convinced my Guardian Angel pushed me a hairline away from the onrushing motorcycle then same Angel supported me from falling down traumatically. It was indeed a miracle that kept me still alive.
From the netcafe I was on my way to the school to meet our new Parish Priest. As has been my habit lately, considering my age, I was walking carefully and very slowly against the traffic along the sidewalk.
There was a normally passing passenger bus followed by a rushing motorcycle heeding towards me. I thanked God that my presence of mind and strong instinct of protection caused my reflexes to make a sway just a little bit to my left enough to avoid the oncoming motorcycle by a hairline. But I also fell down. I hurt my right wrist, my right elbow and my right flank. I immediately and successfully stood up. Again I thanked God my head didn’t hit the cemented pavement.
People quickly came to help me. As it turned out, the motorcycle driver was about to overtake the bus but it slowed down to allow passengers to get out. So, the motorcycle hit me instead.
I brought the driver to the police station to blotter the incident. I was asked if I would file a complaint against the driver. I said: “Why me? Here he is admitting that he is driving a borrowed motorcycle without a license and not wearing a helmet. They were all traffic violations that should be punished by the police”.
I also discovered that the driver was driving with a metallic right leg. I left him to the police for the necessary disposition and penalties to serve as warning to so many others who were driving like him putting passers-by at great risk.
Reflecting on what happened a day after I realized that God was probably reminding me that life was just a flash of light that could vanish instantly. That in spite of all the care in my movements I was still vulnerable. But reviewing the scene, I was convinced my Guardian Angel pushed me a hairline away from the onrushing motorcycle then same Angel supported me from falling down traumatically. It was indeed a miracle that kept me still alive.
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