When Failure Comforts

Last night, I checked on the website of the UP College of Law to see whether I passed the Law Aptitude Exam (LAE) or not. I didn't.

And I can't. Make myself cry or feel sorry or be in despair. I felt nothing. It wasn't heavy. It wasn't light either. As if a giant cushion was placed on my entire being to shield me from anything that would harm my soul.

I never really dreamed of becoming a lawyer, although there are suggestions or prodding from people to be one since I was five years old. But that did not mean I took the exam nonchalantly. For two weeks, I would burn the midnight oil reading LSAT reviewers and I would forego some of my activities to accommodate my preparations for the exam.

So, when I can't see my name on the list of the UP LAE passers, I know I should feel sad. But instead, I felt comforted.

Now, I am not a fail-proof person. But for the many, many years I have avoided failure. I never want to fail. I'd rather not do anything than fail. So, whenever I choose my battles, I would make sure I would get those that would work in my favor. I know, that's some kind of PRIDE. (Can you smell it?)

However, I am slowly realizing that my world is shrinking and I am becoming stagnant. I am turning into a caveman who's missing out on a lot of things simply because I'm afraid to get out. 

So just recently, I decided to let go. I committed my life not to my ego nor my pride, but to wherever God would lead me and whatever God would want me to do. So when He told me to take the UP LAE, I just did. (There's actually an inside story here: UP LAE is usually administered every November. It was August when I heard God telling me to take the UP LAE. I was explaining that I would be busy at work since it's our agency's anniversary on September and that I wouldn't have the time to review. Come October, I heard God telling me to file my exam application. I said it would be very late. But when I opened the UP College of Law website, lo and behold, the exam was postponed to January of next year. Then I heard the Boss said: "So, do you have any other excuses? I have moved heaven and earth for you.")

Failing the UP LAE is actually the second failure in my "adult" life. I also didn't make it to my first reality-talent show auditions last year. And if these failures had done me good, it is by giving me comfort. How?

Failures highlight your strengths by revealing your weaknesses. 

Now at least I know I'm not really good with numbers and logic (as if I really have to rub that in and prove it by taking the LAE!). And that I'm not fit for the life in courtrooms and countless debates.

I'm a creative networker. I love integrating one thoughts with another, hoping to create new syntheses out of the theses and anti-theses that come. I'd rather save the "relationship" rather than winning an argument. I know conflicts give me dissonance and I am deeply affected when there are misunderstandings. Thus, I focus all my energy on restoring "harmony" around me.

Yes, I need these double failures to affirm what I have probably been underestimating all along.

Failures lead you to the right path by blocking one wrong option.

I broke the news to my family immediately when I got home. All of them, particularly Nanay, felt relief upon hearing the "sad news." She saw how difficult it is now for me to manage my time because of work and ministry - what more if I add one more heavy load. 

I know. I wanted to do a lot of things. But I only have one life! So, failures provide the necessary focus that I need. Now, I can see things clearly.

I was actually telling friends that I don't know what to be more nervous about: passing the exam or flunking it. Because I certainly know in my heart that I don't want to be in law school. I was just obeying, remember?

Then, the Lord reminded me that my taking of the UP LAE is really not about a test of my intelligence, but a test of my obedience. And there's no shame in obedience - whether you fail or not. 

Men and Their Wars

Since my ladies (Nanay, Ate Tessa, and Aryl) were having their own rendezvous for the day, I ate lunch with my Tatay and my cousin Kuya Evan. Over lunch, we talked about World War II and other war-related stories and eccentric ideologies. 

 

I was the one who started it. It was probably a mental hang-over from talking to a historian, Art Villasanta, at work last Thursday and from watching John Carter last night. But I did not intend for my lunch dates to be interested. So I was surprised they were. Men would just eat and go. But this noon, they stayed.

 

This made me (the lady-in-waiting) realize three things about men:

 

1. They’re very interested in wars. I know that’s too simplistic of an inference. But there’s something about men that lit up when they talk about “world history,” grand strategies (double-crossing included - haha), artillery and ammunition, power and dominance. They have this ability to explain the “world and its pursuits” like it was just my Nanay telling me how to cook adobo. They take you to a grand view of things, making you feel that they know and thus, you’re safe with them. Talking especially to Tatay, who circumnavigated the world many times, about countries and political territories gives you an impression that the world is just like marbles.

But take this topic to my ladies, it would shift to who shall cook dinner later, if there are still eggs in the fridge, or if I have let the clothes hung dry this afternoon.

I love my ladies. But I believe men are given this capacity because they were created to lead and subdue the earth. It was wired in them. Take away from a man his passion – the very things he love and want (like his family, career/vocation) and you will not only incapacitate him. You will turn him into a wayward man with no care in the world, causing destruction not only upon himself but the people around him.

 

I cannot forget that day when my Nanay asked Tatay what he will do if one of his daughters were harmed (like killed or raped). Tatay immediately yet sternly replied: "Makakapatay ata ako."

So, I think it would be wise for a woman to find a man with a cause. Better yet, find a man with whom she shares the same cause. Life would be much easier and happier if you support one another's cause, rather than both of you fighting over your own – not unless you want to stage another world war.

 

2. When they want or love something, they would. Men, at least those who are part of my life, are easy to decipher. When they want something, they want it. When they don’t, they don’t. They could just get up and put the dishes on the sink after eating the meals I served them. (I hope you read the “I served them” part well.) But they stayed. That means they want to talk.

 

If a man wants you, they wouldn’t “play games” or “feel the tide.” That’s good news, right? You wouldn’t have to spell out his every word and action. If a man wants you, he would prepare real hard and do what it takes to get you. And no, you don’t have to do anything to lead him on. You just don’t stop him. He would get the point.

 

3. They appreciate women who talk sense. I’m not saying you talk about wars so men would listen. But they are pleased when they can be levelheaded and discuss things that are in their minds and hearts. It engages them further to their “cause.”

 

So, that’s about my lunch this lazy Saturday afternoon. Haha.

 

Oh, did I mention I watched John Carter last night? One of his closing lines says: “Go find a cause. Fall in love. Write a book.”

Before I end, I know my blog falls on the International Women's Month, and I mean no disregard for ‘women’ with my title. Believe me, I have been a staunch advocate of women and children’s rights and I have my own ideologies of women empowerment. Women can have their own wars too. Until I realized that I can only be empowered if I stick with God’s design for me – and that is, to be a suitable partner for a man He will give me. Together, we will be fighting our wars with God as our King and Commander-in-Chief.

Happy International Women’s Month everyone. :)

A Girl Named "Promise"

Last night's Gospel Jam was a very deep experience for me.

You see, my father named me "Arla" because he wanted all his children to get the first syllable of his name - Arthur. But many years ago, a good friend gave me a gift which gave deeper meaning to my name. It says there: Arla may be a variation of Arlene, which means "pledge" or "promise."

Last night's Gospel Jam was all about the promises of the Lord. I've always been a promise-believer. I don't know if it's a good thing to always be trusting and to always believe in the goodness of man. Some people call me naive and childish for I do not entertain thoughts that would complicate things. I believe simply because the person says so. Plain and simple.

But as you get older, you realize things are not simple. Yet, I still choose to view things as they are. I don't know. But this childlike faith in me tells me that when all else fails, that when people turn their backs from you, that when they don't do things as you expect them to, and worse, even do things that hurt you, I know Jesus will NEVER do that to me.

And if there's anyone who failed, it was me. I had pit stops. I had detours. I chickened out. I slacked off. I wandered.

I was just crying and crying when Eman Cauriz sang "Amazed" by Desperation band. (I just have to go a little personal here, because Eman and I go way, way back as music ministers in high school.) I don't know about him (peace, Eman! :D) but as for my then 14-year old self, I knew in my heart that God is going to use me and my gift in singing (okay, let's add speaking) to bring greater glory to His name.

And now, more than a decade after, hearing Eman hit the keys and belt out those notes was just a very mighty yet gentle reminder that God will fulfill what He has promised.

Yes, it's been a loooong time. And it might be futile to still believe. But there's a reason to believe the Lord when He gave us a promise: He does not lie.

And just like the original composition of another good friend Jemima Manalo-Pecardal says, this promise is anchored on His love, a love that can cover multitude of sins. A love that can cause the filthiest to be pure. A love that restores broken dreams. And yes, a love that resurrects lives.

On top of all these, being with fellow artists who keep on despite their personal struggles and issues of unbelief is powerfully encouraging. The joy of Sunday Radio is undeniable; you know it's more than what the world offers. So is The Flaming Youth and the Livingstone Band. We play and make music because this is what we were created to do.

Also, hearing Anni Karola from Finland say that she is here in the Philippines because it is "her calling" as a music missionary - just that - is overwhelming. Her and Jeff Lucas' talents could earn so much in the world, but they chose to play for the One who called them.

And it even gets personal when Faith Caronan, a UP Singing Ambassador and a fellow artist from Shine for Jesus (I'll talk about this more soon) sang with me and Jemima. It just brings back fond memories when we were just starting out as gospel artists.

Indeed, that night, God is just giving me another reason to believe and hold on to His promise, just like what He always does whenever I see a reason to stop. He does not get tired of reminding me and giving me another reason after another reason to believe Him. Oh, this love!

And though there are times I do not hear, He still sings for me. Though I'm unaware, He dances for me. Though my eyes are blurred, He continues to paint a beautiful image of me - the one that He planned many, many, many years ago - long before  He placed in my father's heart the name to which I will fulfill and forever live by.

The Art of Walking in the Rain

I will probably never master the art of walking in the rain.

This morning, I was looking at the pants and shoes of those whose fate I likewise suffer: walk in the rain to work. Yet, unlike their perfectly clean pants and dry shoes, mine was already blotched with mud and half-permeated in rainwater.

Today, I also feel like walking in the rain. Others are just good at pretending. But I can't. My shoes and pants show.

There are happy days. And there are gloomy days. The wise teacher of the Book of Ecclesiastes said many, many years ago:

For everything there is a season,
   a time for ever activity under heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die.
   A time to plant and a time to harvest.
A time to kill and a time to heal.
   A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to cry and a time to laugh.
   A time to grieve and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.
   A time to embrace and a time to turn away.
A time to search and a time to quit searching.
   A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear and a time to mend.
   A time to mend and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate.
   A time for war and a time for peace.

What do people really get for all their hard work? I have seen the burden God has placed on us all. Yet God has made everything beautiful in its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God's work from beginning to end. So I concluded there is nothing better than to be happy and enjoy ourselves as long as we can. And people should eat and drink and enjoy the fruits of their labor, for these are gifts from God.

We all have rainy days. And I will never "enjoy" it. No one does and no one will. But I pray for faith that, at least, I have allowed the rain until I am drenched with nothing but love. For even if I trip or get nastily uncomfortable, I know the sun is just around the corner.

Let the Heavens Cry for Me Instead

Today is Lolo Dado's second death anniversary. His death was the first in our immediate, closely-knit family circle. Many say that I inherited my singing voice from him. So remembering his death now ignites an aching desire to bring to a greater level the gift he shared with me.

I am re-posting this poem, which I wrote after we sent his remains back to Leyte. Before he died, he had been wanting to go back home. As I watched his coffin pushed into the van that would take him to the airport, the swelling emotions overtook my exhausted body - I would rather write than sleep or eat.

Then the rain poured. And the words flowed:


LET THE HEAVENS CRY FOR ME INSTEAD

Let the heavens cry for me instead
And moisten the crumbling dirt you become

Let the birds sing the song of grief
My voice, I hope you hear

Let the raindrops fall and kiss the earth where you lay
Oh, if only I could rescue you from decay!

I will take you home.
But you are home.

In Memoriam: Eduardo G. Encienzo Sr.

March 06, 2010


You will always be remembered, Lolo Dado. I know you are home. We love you.

Last touch. February 18, 2010 at VMMC.