CLAY

soon

2009-06-17T20:40:00.000-07:00

The Next Day

2009-06-15T05:54:00.000-07:00

Slowly, I am getting better. miss the noise of rain hitting the pavement, and that cold air that moved me to reach for the blanket's warmth through the tempest. I do not hate the sun, but i don't love it either. I prefer it to be one-part hidden by a cloud, and the other shown, for the sake of fairness. My heart protests when its rays insist on hitting earth after a shower, but the years taught me that not everybody likes rain...

Mama: 5.06.53 - 8.18.08

2008-12-08T06:35:00.000-08:00

When God “Breaks” His Promise

a talk i gave in one of the recollections i facilitated for this year

Young Mama (chocolate hills, background)

One afternoon, I prayed to God while riding in a tricycle, asking Him a favour. I asked him this, “Lord, do not let Mama die!” It was a grade one boy’s prayer for a mother he loves so much. I am very proud to be a mama’s boy because ever since I was little, I am very secure in that reality. People tease me for being so, but it did not bother me at all. Well, it did bring me awkward moments in my teen years, but I could remember that it was only for a short period. Through the years, my appreciation for her grew and intensified. She became an important figure, a presence that shaped me and my life; a loving influence so strong that even though my 7-year old theology at that time was childishly crude, my heart did not commit any mistake in asking God to let my mother live forever. To complete that special moment, I happened to look up at the sky, and there I saw a rainbow. Immediately, I took that as a sign that He heard my prayer, and not just any sign, it was a promise. The rainbow spoke to me, assured me that Mama will not die.

July 27, 2006 will always be marked. It was the day that Mama got the results of her biopsy. The lump in her right breast was confirmed cancerous. Cancer for me then was a stranger. I knew about it; I read about it but it remained a concept. When it finally paid us a visit, I painfully realized that I was face-to-face with an unexpected guest. The family felt the same, and must truly be horrifying to its victim: my mother. Being in the seminary and a theologian at that, I was quick to reason out, articulate and justify the event. Confident that I have grown in faith, I found comfort in prayer. But what really kept me afloat was the rainbow. This is just a trial and this will come to pass, she will not die, a miracle will surely happen. These became mantras to me for the next two years.

Mama, Aiza, me and Father Kit,SVD

(May 2008, Panglao)

I continued in my formation: T1, T2 then regency. As the years wore on, my mother was also rapidly wearing out. Hope was like the setting sun, leaving its last rays while the evening’s darkness begins to set in and obliterate any sign of day. Time was running out as well. Pain was shared by all: my father and sister worked hard for her therapy but pained to see her slowly slipping out from their hands; pain was her cross- not just the open wound that never heals but grows instead in size and depth everyday as the cancer cells invade the surrounding tissues, depriving them of oxygen, that is why they burst and bleed and new forms of pain are born each day, but also the pain in the mind, losing all hopes of a rational explanation, and the pain in the soul, verbally uttered in her occasional crying, sighing and screaming every time the pain becomes unbearable, and the pain in my heart when I hear her shout: “Why are you doing this to me? Why have you forsaken me?” yet in between sobs, she will cry: “I am sorry Lord!” This submission, despite the pain, increased only the pain in my heart. I feel pain and fear because I do not want to live up to the day when I will discover that God will break His promise. Seeing Mama wasting away every minute, was a dagger lunged into my heart, breaking my spirit while I see the promise crumbling down. But by grace, I continued on. Why? I do not know. I have all the chance to leave the battle and I know that I will be doing so in good faith and the world will understand, but I decided to remain steadfast even if my heart was brimming with fear. I was losing all hope, but only to spring back every time I remember the rainbow in my mind.

Then came a retreat I co-facilitated with Dante (my classmate/brother in the community)last July. It was a retreat for third year high school students. It was a wonderful retreat although with much difficulty at first. Like any retreat, we talked about our selves, others and God. Being facilitators, it was a task; a responsibility, a job to do. But I was not prepared for what was coming. At the end of the retreat, we celebrated mass. I could remember that the priest-presider was a very ordinary looking young man. There was nothing in him that could call attention, except that he was a plain-looking person. The mass started, as expected, a solemn air replaced the rather noisy atmosphere courtesy of high-energy adolescents and there I sat at the back. Then the homily came. I could not understand my feeling when the priest began to talk about suffering. His statement was simple: We cannot understand suffering if we do not connect it to Jesus. All the more when it comes to life – it is meaningless unless connected with the cross. Of course, on ordinary days, those words will just be normal sentences, and even common, but on that day, my heart was captured. I discovered the missing link: I was so full of myself, so concerned with my desire to keep Mama longer that I failed to see Jesus. I was so preoccupied with that image I continued to believe in after all these years – a rainbow, actually believing that Mama will never die and I will be exempted from the pains of this world. For the first time in many, many years, I gazed upon the cross behind the altar, understood the message and wept. I cried all throughout the homily, and a deluge of tears never stopped flowing until the consecration. But I tried my best not to create a scene, but I could remember that nobody minded me at all – the mass continued on and finally ended, but the feeling did not; it burned inside me.

"sige lang long, mu-uban lang ko sa airport...muhatod ko...sayo lang koug mata,

aron sayo pud maka-dressing..."

May 2008, Tagbilaran Airport, while waiting for Cebu Pacific to fly me back to Manila

Two weeks before Mama died, we had a chance to talk. Her speech was already slurred and could not pronounce the words properly, but she managed to throw in some funny stories, in between sobs, heavy breathing and pauses due to the erratic surge of pain from time to time. I did not have any inkling that was the last conversation I would have with her in this lifetime. We bid goodbye to each other after that long talk. I could remember that after some minutes, my phone rang again and it was her. I would like to remember that as her last attempt to prolong even for some minutes, our connection. After that conversation, I went back to my usual workload of things. The days after that, I call her from time to time but she would not talk to me anymore. My sister would take the phone instead and tells me that Mama is tired and in pain. A particular distance began to form between me and Mama, and it went that way as the days went on. Then the countdown began.

August 17, 2008 came. My sister called up crying, afraid that Mama will not make it for another day. I could remember the cold feeling rising, starting from my feet then up to my chest, afraid while recalling again the rainbow, the promise, but I managed to talk to her and my father, inviting them to accompany Mama in her agony with prayers and to let go. But after that talk, I myself broke down, as the childhood memory also began to break into pieces. In my humanity, I uttered: “Lord, You may now ‘break’ your promise!” which was actually: Lord, Your will be done. I now understand that the real promise, the real reason for my hope is not that childhood construct, but the true promise of seeing You face to face forever which you are now granting my Mama to finally see!” Mama left softly and silently at 1:45 in the morning, August 18, 2008. She was said to have labored for breath during the final hours; her inflamed arm and legs prevented her from shifting positions, but my sister could clearly remember that while the body was at a standstill, and the mind was already clouded with death spell, her eyes spoke volumes – a silent language of submission, obedience and trust. During her agony, her eyes were fixed on the picture of the Divine Mercy in front of her, as if waiting for the Lord to come and bring her home. Then a little later, she closed her eyes and smiled. What she saw before she closed her eyes and what she saw that caused that smile – nobody knows, but in faith, I can say, the Lord Himself. In the end, it is all about Jesus.

The Last Family Picture

May 2008, Tagbilaran Airport

Three months had passed and I am still here. I thought before that if Mama dies, so will my vocation. It never happened though, but I learned so much in that experience. First, I learned that grace is stronger and greater than any test. I would not have survived if I relied on my own efforts. My brothers in the community noticed that I carried my self well during those trying moments. Partly true because I was consciously balancing the things in my life, but how I actually lived through it is something I cannot answer. I still miss her until now and I am sure I will continue to miss her for a long, long time. She taught me more about the Lord than all of my studies in theology. She was the one who suffered much – but she remained faithful. Her constant cry was: Lord, do not let go of me! In her last days on earth, she realized how God loves her so much that this made her stronger and less scared. By ‘stronger’, she no longer referred to her physical state but to her spirit. She knew then that her body will no longer heal. By ‘less scared’, she understood already the meaning of her journey –its beginning, its mystery and its proper end.

"Mo-fight lagi ko Long!"

two weeks before she died, she told me this

By this sharing, I want to present myself as a broken person. I know that at this very moment, you are also aware of your own brokenness. Whatever the cause, how deep the wounds are, how rough the waves are, how dark the night is, each one of us has a story to tell. What is important though in all these is our submission and acceptance of His grace, knowing that He will never abandon us and He will remain faithful.

"I am not alone!"

one of the balloons released during her burial

But we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

2 Cor 4:7-9

Sacred Time, Sacred Place: A Memory

2008-11-09T06:12:00.000-08:00

It was my third day on the mountain. For the first time in my life, I was disengaged from the usual world – from the usual people, usual ways, usual places and usual time. All around me was a strange land. The people, in their own ways, tried to make me feel welcome. Their smiles managed to thaw my frozen self and their words were kind and gentle sounds to me, but all the same they remained foreign to me. Even matters of the spirit became totally other for me - seeing that there were no crosses, no images, no chapels brought to me a sensation of loss and orientation. Except for my Shorter Christian Prayer Book and rosary, nothing could remind me of my usual prayer life three days ago down there at the Novitiate. In Arasaas, which means rustling sounds made by the wind, something happened to me that changed me and continues to change me.

It was a cold February dawn of 2004 in Arasaas, a mountain community of Mangyans to which I was assigned for my immersion-exposure activities. I woke before any hint of the sun. But I could remember that even before my body was alive; my heart was already awakened by something. The only thing to do was to yield to it. And so I did. I went out from my hut, got my prayer book and went out into the open grounds with the intention to pray while waiting for the sun. This is the setting that met me: I was standing on a mountain, and was facing another high portion – its peak, meaning I was on a semi-plateau area while the rest of the mountain ends up there. It was of a height capable of being touched by the early clouds that the preliminary rays of the sun granted the misty drapes with a beautiful but mysterious reddish hue. I said to myself, parang Mt. Sinai. Indeed, it was like it – the mountain seen from below, from my place – seemed it was on fire. It was a perfect visual aid so to speak. And so I started praying, O God come to my assistance…

As the seconds progressed, I noticed that the visual drama intensified. I continued through the psalms but my glimpses at the “burning” mountain top became frequent as the crimson glow became so inviting, so appealing and so attractive – then I was disturbed. The feeling crept in when I realized in my heart of hearts that the otherwise natural phenomenon was slowly becoming an unnatural event to me. This time, the beauty seemed to grip me, called me in ways that were not to be rendered in words, and the reddish glow seemed to fill me up with it. I struggled to find the will to continue reading the breviary because the mountain seemed to rival the very prayers I was reading. And so I continued until I reached the words of the reading: You have seen for yourselves how I treated the Egyptians and how I bore you up on eagle wings and brought you here to myself! Right and there and then, I stood motionless. How could the words be so appropriate? The words seemed to describe my state. The words spoke to me. The words seemed to rule over me, had power over me – so strong that I closed the breviary, and looked at the mountains, and as if, the words, me and the mountain became one. I could remember that my mind went blank except for the mountain I see, and the whirling space around me gradually fading in the background. I could no longer continue reading because I felt that and the Lord and I were already talking, and He had just confirmed the reason why I was up there, and I knew that I was there because He brought me up there. I could also remember that while I stood in front of the mountain, my lips seemed to move as if silently forming words but remained silent. I could remember the feeling of happiness, the silent rapture in me and that sense of being loved. I just stood there. I wondered if I prayed and how I prayed – I was not sure. Only the mountain existed.

Then at some point, I was snapped back into my usual self. Looking up, the reddish glow began to lose its hold on me and I felt the growing heat of the sun. I decided to go back into the hut, but I was met with a surprising number of Mangyan children behind me, looking up also at the mountain then to me. From a distance, the older people were also looking at me. One of them asked me, Hintay kawo nakatanaw sa mabariw? Which means, why are you looking at Mabariw (the peak)? And they related to me that I was there looking up, standing for a long time. Indeed, when I looked at my watch, it was 9 am in the morning, but I could remember that I felt it was a very short experience.

Novitiate Retreat 2008 (Calapan, Mindoro)

2008-11-03T07:36:00.001-08:00

2008-11-03T07:08:00.000-08:00

As I See It (series)

2008-11-03T06:41:00.000-08:00

bangka

pana-panahon

From here

doors

blue

tempus fugit

2008-11-03T06:26:00.000-08:00

many things are not said in this blogsite, what is important is i'm back in this sphere. much has changed, many things happened...my heart is full of gratitude that i am back in whole piece, and am writing this entry. today is November 3, 2008 and i am back here in DWST...another journey, another story.

Secondary Reflection

2008-04-04T10:11:00.001-07:00

Bandila, Blue Sky, Higher, Tuyo Na'ng Damdamin, With A Smile...

We Are Back!

2008-02-29T21:14:00.000-08:00

The ongoing search
Denver interviewed by RPN -9
JM explains the similarities between Jun and Ninoy
The New Gen
The Buttenbruch truth searchers with Fr. Raymun (center part, behind Eman, last row)
MISA PARA SA KATOTOHANAN. We went to Baclaran as our symbolic "pakikiisa" with the nation' s urgent entreaty: please save this nation. This has become a battle between good and evil, but a battle whose feuding and warring characters are not clearly cut as evil and good...we need discernment. On Monday morning, we decided to go and be back in the scene! May not be as drammatic as the classical SVDs in the social justice arena...but just being there...observing, praying, listening, discerning...in a new quest for JTB - Justified True Belief!

The Castle's Oratory (2)

2008-02-26T08:17:00.000-08:00

How lovely is Your dwelling place O Lord!
Fr. Provincial and his "attention technique"
Fr. Provincial, Fr. Gerry Mr. Chua (benefactor), and Fr. PabsFr. Glenn during the Opening Rites

Incensing
Rites of the Altar
The sems and their prayerbooks
Bending the knees before the Lord
Her first "dwellers"

The original chapel was the area occupied by the present library. This year, this sacred space has finally returned to the castle, this time at the ground floor of the eastern turrets. This space keeps the Presence in her bosom. This is a great blessing indeed! I rejoice when I hear them say, let us go to the house of the Lord!

(Special thanks to the generous hearts, the Chua and the Madrid family, and our passionate Fathers and Formators who kept us in mind in all these developments, our Saints - Arnold and Joseph, together with the Blessed and to the One who made all these things possible)

The Castle's Oratory (1)

2008-02-20T07:25:00.000-08:00

On Friday, February 22, 2008, a great event shall occur - finally, the castle's new oratory will be blessed. The former procurator's office and the accounting office gave way to another space, this time - a liturgical space. The Buttenbruch dwellers will now have their own oratory - Come, let us sing and worship the Lord!
Upnext: The Castle's Oratory (2)

We Went Up a Mountain! (part 2)(see full story at www.svdphc.org)

2008-02-10T23:04:00.000-08:00

Mass some feet away

Fr. Provincial presiding
On your mark, get set...
missionaries at work
A (celestial) confrere for every tree
Long live JPIC!
feeling international
The CKMS Horde with Fathers Ben and Rod
Till next centennial

next time!

This was a dream come true for Fr. Ben Beltran, SVD. It started with a simple dream of honoring the deceased members of the Society of the Divine Word who had lived and served in the Philippines for the past one hundred years. Tree-planting is immortalizing them - thus, every tree planted has a name tag, bearing the name of a confrere. As they grow on the mountains of Montalban, these trees will save water and hopefully, "refill" the water tables below for the next generations of people. The dream is water for everybody in the future - water from the mountains on which our SVD confreres continue to stand - such love, such immortal love! What an honor to be part of this dream - cheers to the next hundred years! May God bless us all!

We Went Up a Mountain! (part 1)

2008-02-10T22:52:00.000-08:00

tis the calm before the storm...before the climb
thinking it's just a hill up there...
all sheep and cattle, yes even the savage beasts
caged!

On the way towards a noble pursuit

Some portions of my heart...

2008-02-07T08:33:00.000-08:00

Tree Planting/ Mountain Hiking in Montalban

Sometimes, i envy Sisyphus. At least,the rock rolls down and your hero is left exhausted and doomed to take up the whole divine punishment again from ground zero. But in my case, my "rock" will rock your wits to no end...this "rock" chats while waiting for the liturgy to start, screams during siesta, dreams of sleeping forever, plays until 5:45 on Thursdays, drops by the TV room at 5:50, then takes a bath at 5:58 and wonders why he is scolded for coming at 6:15 (eh naligo naman siya!)... so on and so forth. By the way, this "rock" is aka seminarista. Si Sisyphus dinadaanan ng bato, ako dinadaganan ng bato!Sisyphus' rock rolls down to ground zero, ako i'm grounded until i turned zero. Although they could not qualify for Mr. Devil or Satan of the Year, neither are they angels! But let me say, angels in the making. I always remind myself that they are the ones called. Of course, not all will be chosen, but definitely, they were all led to this place. What am i to do but to help them listen to the ongoing call. They are still prone to hear many voices before they can hear the VOICE. Bisan makapungot na kaayo, and sometimes I do lose my top and erupt from time to time, I always feel secure in the idea that I am just a shepherd, taking care of the Master's sheep. It has evolved into a privilege to be of service to these selected guys. Who will make it to the end? only the Master knows. One thing for sure, they are works-in-progress. One day i went to a mall - i moved around - passing by the stalls and boutiques- in fact, it was more of an aimless walking. I allowed myself to get drowned by the mall's atmosphere of unbridled noise and exaggerated spaces and piped-in music. That was my idea of spending my free day - but some minutes after i just felt out-of-place. The noise didn't have that crispy sounds of pool chips hitting each other and disturbing my sleep during siesta. The music could not come close to the squeaky "What if God was one of us?" emanating from the squeaky vocal cords habitating in the nearby dorm, accompanied by a 5-string guitar. The boutiques paled in comparison to the sci-fi inspired dorms which sometimes give me the creeps! The young creatures walking aimlessly too in the mall were not as interesting as the 70+ human and sometimes seemingly-human substances moving around in their black and white colors, camouflaging as sacred organisms, running up and down the staircases of grand old Buttenburk!...then I realized and took 50 deep breaths before I can truly accept that I miss them. I looked at my cellphone, and the clock image displayed 2:07 pm...okay, there's still time...rosary starts at 3pm. On the way, i listened to some sounds in my head and tried to figure out what setting shall I use for the vespers...then I laughed, well anyway, all those notes will settle down to recto tono. I am afraid that this sound will remain in my heart for a long, long time.

January 10 Thoughts

2008-01-12T09:42:00.000-08:00

PINID NA PINTUAN...

I was awakened by a chorus of "buksan" ... part of the sleep-terminator scheme was to knock on my door, and increase the volume, to make sure the sleeping spell is driven away...but what really drove the zzzzzzzzzs out of me was the mixture of excitement and fun rolling inside my heart plus the wrong chords and off-key parts of the song the seminarians serenaded me with (hikhikhikhik)...but who cares? off-key or on the right key...the point is, the love came across! It was indeed a beautiful morning - greeted with millions of good wishes. The day was full of joy and meaning! So here i am starting to ponder on being 27! Text messages came a-flooding and some gifts came. Some sems bothered to give me beautiful and meaningful gifts. The Fathers greeted me also and some of them sing the birthday song everytime i enter the refectory for the meals...hehehe fun! Dante also came and greeted me personally. Haaay! I felt the bond immediately with all these experiences. The day went on as usual and finally in the evening, my younger brothers gave their tribute. I was moved especially with the words of love and respect they gave me. My heart is filled with gratitude on that day. A prayer ended the day. Thank you Lord! amen.

Blessed Days

2008-01-03T23:15:00.000-08:00

This is my last day of vacation - January 4, tomorrow I shall fly back to manila and face the remaining days of this special year - my regency year-tempus fugit (time flies). It was just like yesterday when i received my regency ring...thank you Lord for the graces that came my way. My vacation was a blessed one. Seeing Mama doing well despite the pain that cancer brings. I have seen so many miracles already - one of these is the joy that Mama continues to carry in her soul all these years. Pa has been so supportive and loving as a husband and father. Aiza, my sister is doing very well as the nurse in the family - she takes care of Ma's medz and juices. Addi, our youngest brother brings fun and laughter in the house. This is Mama's 2nd Christmas since her diagnosis and this we are very thankful. We continue to pray for her healing.Thanks for the prayers.

ACT 1

2007-12-30T18:35:00.000-08:00

As of this writing, I am in the republic (bohol) for my Christmas break. This is to break my silence hehehe. After 6 months in the castle, I am taking my rest. Of course. I miss the daily schedule and all the people who fill it especially my younger brothers. From time to time, some text me and share their vacation experiences...nice! I enjoy every moment here with my family and some friends. What pa? This is all for now. I'm looking forward to 2008 and excited what the Lord has in store for me. I'll be posting some pics then in the future. Thank you for visiting! God bless you.