Bangungot Habang Gising

Mistulang masamang panaginip…

Ang mga alaalang ubod-pait ay bigla nalang bumalong na parang bukal na di natutuyuan ng tubig.

Ano’ng nangyari? Ilang taon na nga ba ang lumipas?

Bakit ngayon, sa loob ng apat na sulok ng aking silid, ay nalasahan kong muli ang mapaklang mga katotohanan na akala ko’y naibaon ko na sa limot?


Dahil hindi pa pala…

Alas-dos ng madaling araw ngayon, at nakaramdam ako ng hapdi.

Isa-isang sumulpot sa aking isipan ang mga pangyayaring yaon, tatlong taon mahigit na ang nakararaan.

Yaong pinagdaanan kong hirap. Grabe. Natagpos ko iyon? Salamat na lamang sa Diyos.

Nung mga panahong iyon, di ko lubos maisip kung kailan hihinto ang bangungot ko habang gising.

Mahaba-haba na rin naman ang ipinagpahinga ng masasamang panaginip. Ilang daang araw na rin ang nagsalitan mula sa liwanag patungong dilim, at liwanag muli.

Nakalimot na ako sa aking pagkakaalam.

Maliban ngayon…

Maaaring hindi na ganun kasakit.

Ngunit mahapdi pa rin.

Naramdaman kong muli na tila ba napunit ang aking dibdib. Sinabi ko na ngang mahapdi, hindi ba?

Parang sugat na nabudburan ng iilang piraso lamang ng asin.

Parang gusto mong biglang buhusan ng tubig upang mahugasan. Upang mapawi na ang hapdi.

Isa lang ang sagot.

Huwag na muling mag-isip.

Muling humukay ng mas malalim ng kaunti, para muling ibaon sa limot ang sakit na nanggaling sa kahapon.

Matagal na nga. Ilang oras at buwan na nga ang lumipas.

Ilang pilas na rin ng kalendaryo ang naganap.


May hapdi pa rin…

At ayaw ko na nito.

Bangungot? Katotohanan?

Lubayan mo na muna ako at ayaw kitang maramdaman…

Rainy Twentieth of August

~Reblogging from Facebook, August 20, 2013~

I will not be a hypocrite and must admit that there were times that I hated the rainy days.

I hate it when I’m on the road and the skies suddenly decide to do an ambush attack.

I hate it when I’m still inside the office and just 5-10 minutes before the end of office hours, gazillion giant raindrops would do their merry-making. Talk about perfect timing, huh? And oftentimes, I mull over the fact that I have to dip my feet in the cold, dirty water that has flooded the streets. I do mind the organisms lurking and swimming freely in the flood but I am left with no choice but to walk in it lest I will not be able to go home. Plus the traffic! Geeez!

But today, with this kind of weather, I had the chance to ponder. Not all day, the heavens were raging. There were these “quiet moments” wherein I appreciated the sound of raindrops. Each drop had its own tone, each had its own volume, its own intensity and dynamics…

Could it be….? I thought to myself…

Could it really be that this is heaven’s or nature’s way of worshipping God or exalting His name or making music for Him?…

Could it be that we do not recognize it as such because we, humans, speak a different language, and have polluted the home that was entrusted to us that’s why it cannot process and respond “rightly ” in the present time as it did a hundred or a thousand years ago?

All along we have blamed the storms and the rains, when we should have pointed our fingers towards us. Why these calamities? Why these floods? Why those lives lost?

We kept on questioning when all these time, we carry the answers right within us…

On the other hand, I admire the rain… It has always been consistent.

How I pray I could always worship like that, if that’s really one of the things it does—

totally abandoned,

Losing my mind, you say?

Perhaps not.

Memory Gush

That sudden warm gush of memories…

Held hands under the table…

That peck on your cheek that makes you smile years after it has been given..

A song sung and dedicated to you..

The feeling of being special to someone even without words being spoken..

Those moments…

Even after years have passed, it still makes you smile..

And somehow, it makes you whole…

The Pursuit


The world is flooded with Your grace and mercy,
submerged in Your love and warm embrace.
Yet the one You love—
the apple of Your eyes—
still prefers to leave You behind.
The one You love hurts you
more often than not,
clings to things that would easily fade.
and to this day that You have made
You still choose to love her—no matter what…
Tears fall from Your eyes
as You see her run further and further,
but You’re still willing to pick her up,
dust her off and love her again
every single time she fails You.
Her future is bright and always will be
if she would just trust and surrender—
there is still a lot to learn.
And that is what it is all about—
Your love,
and Your forgiveness…
Ever persistent,
Gracious and consistent;
One that’s second to none,
the kind that continues longer than forever.
And yes, truth abides,
She can never ever
outrun You.

Thank You Mom!

~This is something my mom wrote for my birthday (June 10,2013)… Thanks for the unconditional love, mom!  I love you…~



To a wonderful daughter who is the most artistic of all my children…
Another miracle baby. She came out earlier than scheduled and thanks to God because her heartbeat was fainter than it should be since i was sick for a week. I couldn’t push…i was so weak. But she came out with a loud alto voice. A fighter from the beginning.
I was bleeding heavily, suffered from uterine atony…I woke up soaked with blood. But God made the baby strong. The heaviest and the biggest of all my children..

The singer of the family. She sings when the car starts its engine and stops when the car reaches its destination. The longest concert… from guiguinto, bulacan to Lemery, Batangas…at the age of 4.She was singing gospel songs…my nightingale.

She started to draw at the age of 1 1/2 barely mastered holding a pen. all four corners of our wall had her priceless masterpieces. Asked a paint brush and oil paint at the bookstore at the age of 5 as her birthday gift which I decline. We went home without any gift for her. She doesn’t want any of the things we suggested… she only wanted the oil paint and brush. Christmas, she again asked for it and saying..”d ba wala akong gift nong birthday ko?” (I didn’t have a gift on my birthday, remember?)–so i did give her what she wanted. -my female version of Michaelangelo.

It brings back all the memories of the childhood years of my children every time their birthday comes. Now…she had fought the battles of her life and came out victorious..made her life colorful with her own paint and brushes and a beautiful masterpiece with the Lord Jesus as her Great Saviour and teacher.

You will always be a child in my heart, you will always be my nightingale and my female michaelangelo.. the bonus is i have now my small version of you—Anaiah.

Hold on to the Lord, He is our everything..when you don’t His heart… Mommy and daddy will always be here for you no matter what happens. WE LOVE YOU ANAK….HAPPY BIRTHDAY GAY

Fortitude in Weakness

There are times when people look at me and they see a very tough woman. They put in their mind that my toughness makes me insusceptible to pain. So they think it’s ok to hurt me over and over.


Yet there are times that this tough woman shakes like a leaf and gets scared and hurt, too. Like all the others, there’s a small child in me that curls up in bed and cries her heart out, longing to be held by someone stronger than her.



I just am so blessed that in my weakest times, I find my fortitude in Christ alone…

Putting My Plow Away

Forgetting does not mean obliterating the memory of my past, but is a conscious refusal to let it absorb my attention and impede my progress.



Dear Lord, I’ve been plowing up the soil of past memories for far too long. Today, I’m going to put away the plow and start planting seeds. When You see me reaching for the plow and going back to rehash old grievances and hurts, I pray that the Holy Spirit will convict me quickly. Today, the past is the past and I’m not looking back.
In Jesus’ Name, Amen.