Lessons From My 60-Year Old Mother

I went on Skype with Nanay (mother) after her "surprise"* birthday celebration the other day. She was so happy - a picture of a content woman at 60 because of all the recognition, affirmation, gratitude and love that she received that day. She told me that this was one of the only two "birthday parties" she ever had in her entire life. (She usually stops us whenever we organize a party for her because she thinks it's a waste of money.)

Nanay started in life with so much hardships and she often feels regretful for not being able to do more. She's also not as affectionate as Tatay (father) because her life circumstances shaped her to exhibit toughness and independence. But Nanay dreamt anyway. Nanay loved anyway - in ways she knows how.

Nanay is self-sacrificial. She thinks of others first before herself. She even decided to give the money that was supposed to be used for her birthday party last Sunday to a relative who was recently widowed and has a sick son. She cares a lot - too much that it often feels that she's meddling in other people's lives. But she can't help it.

And this Sunday culminated all the inconveniences, hurts, awkwardness, misunderstandings and all the negativities that come with loving others. Amazingly, however, what she experienced on her birthday party was anything but that. That is what the love of God can do to a person.

Because really, with all that Nanay had gone through, I am in awe at her ability to love nevertheless. And I know, she knows - she tells me that a lot - that it is the love of God that compels her. All these messages from family, relatives, friends, and the church confirm an irrefutable truth that has been shouting at me for the last two years now: Love wins.

Nanay may not have much money nor the prestige or position a woman of her skills and wit can achieve. Her children are neither perfect. Although there's nothing wrong with having much money, prestige, beautiful children. It would be awesome to have the best things in life and be loved by those you love as well.

But that time, while I was talking to her, I believe several times, in those 60 years, she had to make a choice. And I am soooo glad she had been choosing well.

And while she may not always choose well (she's not perfect!), she believes anyway. She trusts and hopes for the best anyway. And isn't that what love is all about (1 Corinthians 13)?

Happy 60th birthday, Nanay. Thank you for teaching me the most valuable lesson of all.

Nanay at Kalanggaman Island, Leyte (December 2012)

*My mom has a strong intuitive sense. It's actually difficult to keep secrets from her.

The Better Way

Any time is a time to love – no matter how embarrassing, uncertain, questionable, risky, and potentially controversial it might be. This is what I powerfully learned today as I gave my pasalubong or ‘welcome gift’ to Phil, my professor in Urbanisation last year.

Early on in my first few weeks in New Zealand, I was told not to get Phil as a professor. They say he is strict, cold, and distant. But the adventurous in me told me to take the risk. I had one similar professor in my undergraduate years and being in his class turned out to be a fulfilling and rewarding experience for me. So I gave it a go.

During the first lectures, it is easier to judge Phil as a cold, unloving, white, middle-aged man because of his pragmatism and penchant for line graphs and quantitative analysis. He is also not quite generous with grades. But beyond those seemingly straightforward lectures and discussions, Phil’s passion and dedication for what he does and how he sets the bar of excellence for postgraduate students really stand out.

After coming back from my field work in the Philippines, I already set it in my mind to buy some Filipino tokens for my friends in Wellington. And Phil is among those in my list. But it took me almost a month to give it to him because it was either he is away or is attending to some students. Also, whenever I am about to give the gift to him, I am presented with self-doubts on whether it is appropriate or even ethical to give gifts to your professor in New Zealand.

This afternoon, I bravely decided to show my appreciation and love when I received an email from the head of school about the death of his son-in-law. I said to myself, ‘There could be no better time to do it than now.’ So I knocked at his office and waited for a few moments as he was on a phone call. Then I gave the gift to him and he received it very warmly. We had a few talks on where I am in my thesis. Then I disclosed my dilemma on the appropriateness of my gesture and he told me, ‘This is actually something that is slowly diminishing now in New Zealand. But for me, the more the better!’ So I also said, ‘If they were to ask me, any time is a good time to show your appreciation.’ Then he gave me a tight hug.

I was still a bit shaky and nervous as I left his office – which is what I usually feel whenever I talk to him. He’s such a good and critical listener, which makes me very mindful of what I say to him. But this has taught me a lot about what real love is – it requires courage. One has to be brave enough to abandon his or her self just to be of service to others. 

"If you only love the people who love you, you will get no reward… And if you are nice only to your friends, you are no better than other people. Even those who don’t know God are nice to their friends. In a word, what I’m saying is, Grow up. You’re kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.” (Matthew 5:43-48, NCV and MSG)

And even if my professor took it differently, I would still love anyway. After all, there is no better way.

26 August 2014
Victoria University of Wellington
New Zealand

A Boy and His Toy

24 June 2014
Lola Elena's home
Tinabilan, Palompon, Leyte


Yesterday, I was preparing to go to town to do some errands and buy some food. But Ivan, our child neighbor, had been frantically crying from their house. It was so loud I can hear it from my room.

Ivan lives with his widowed mother and two sisters. But that time, he was left only with his younger sister. Ever since his father died, his mother usually leaves them all by themselves because she had to work at the town. That morning, Ivan was calling his mom and was just crying incessantly.

As I dressed, I was pained by the shrill sounds he made. For minutes, no one attended to him. I would have wanted to turn a deaf ear to what I hear. I have a lot of things to do. And I know that if I will allow myself to be bothered, I will really be bothered. But his house and my grandmother's are too close, it is only separated by a wall. I cannot deny that a child was crying. So I asked one of my grandmother's companions of what could be happening at our neighbor's house. She said that probably Ivan's older sister caused him to cry - you know, what siblings usually do to each other.

So I tried not to mind Ivan and convinced myself that it was just some petty children's feud. But Ivan just kept on crying. So I finally went to their house and asked his sister (who is probably just only nine years old - too young to look after her own brother) what happened. It turned out, their other sister purposefully hid Ivan's new toy because she was not given a new one the other day.

Then it suddenly hit me that this is not just your typical 'children's fight.' And this is NOT how siblings should be usually treating each other.

It's easy to condemn and get angry at whoever when we hear news of injustice, oppression, and greed. But do we even do something about it when we see it happening in our own homes or our neighbor's? While it's admirable that we think of the "others," let us be mindful: humanity starts at home. Hence, all humanitarian work should start at home.

Despite my and my grandmother's small talks with Ivan, he kept on crying. I can see how he felt powerless over his older sister's ill treatment of him that morning. Just so that I could go ahead, I offered to bring Ivan cupcakes if he stops crying and gets some rest. We were already worried that he might get headaches because he was crying long enough.

At the town, I told myself I should not have bothered. The children might grow too fond of me and that I would feel responsible for children who are not my own. I saw how they would often ask for food from my grandmother because their mother didn't leave them enough. I was afraid they would ask for more.

But when Ivan gave me that smile when he saw me after he finished the cupcakes (which only costed me a dollar), I was glad I bothered. I was glad I cared. And if he cries again and I would be compelled to give him another round of cupcakes, I am hopeful that I have left to a young boy a lasting impression that he should not be treated badly simply because his dad died a little too soon.

That Home*

Even Google knows I am home!

Mother's Day 2014
At home, Pasig, Philippines


The fifteen months that passed felt like a dream once I smelled and felt the humid air of Manila.

Things look a lot darker, with more clutter here at home. Honestly, I felt bad I had allowed myself and my family to believe we are living in a better condition.

Yet, waking up to the familiar music my Tatay (father) makes when he's asleep (otherwise known as 'snoring,' which was lullaby to me last night) and snuggling with my Nanay (mother), I knew this is so much better than waking up alone in a cold, dark morning in Wellington. No matter how chaotic and 'underdeveloped' this abode looks to me now, this is home.

This is who I am: a daughter of a middle-class Filipino family who finds riches in her relationship with her loved ones. This is my wealth: the bits and pieces of what may seem like rubbish to the developed world - for this signifies we are slowly putting things together and that we make sense of the small things that we have. This is my world: of mango trees all in full-bloom, the chirping of the birds, and the crowing of the rooster - for that means a long day of hard work is about to start.

As the sun breaks in against the ashy sky at 5:30 in the morning, I am convinced that the sun does shine brighter - in all the sense of the phrase - in this part of the world I call 'home.'

________________________
*Inspired by a song of the same title, (C) 2013 Newsboys, Inc. under exclusive license to Sparrow Records

Black Out

When I felt that excruciating and unbearable pain in my lower abdomen and lower back, I knew I had to go home. I packed my stuff in my bag, turned off my computer and thought it best to go to the toilet before heading to the bus stop. Fatimah, my Saudi Arabian colleague, saw me and asked me if I am okay. She said I look ill. She was right.

I was beginning to feel dizzy and it was becoming difficult to breathe. So I decided to get out of the toilet and go back to my room where I could sit down. I saw Fatimah running behind me as I struggled to slot in the key to open my room. My hands were shaking. After a few seconds, all I can remember was that I was on my knees as Fatimah gasped, trying to catch me as I unconsciously fall down to the floor.

I can hear other postgraduate students - Gina, Pedram, Anna, and Kelly - who were trying to wake me up. I can hear them asking me to open my eyes and to stay awake, which I tried with much effort. I was lying on Fatimah's arms and I can feel her body shaking as I hear her say, "I am scared." She asked for water and wiped them on my cheeks. Since I was still not fully conscious, she then asked for her perfume, put some on her head scarf and placed it on my nose. That finally woke me up. The first words I muttered were: "What happened?" They were all looking at each other as one replied, "Arla, you just fainted."

It took 20 minutes for the ambulance to arrive. Pretty long for an emergency response. But I couldn't complain. As they transferred me to a couch in one of the postgraduate rooms, I remember that when the same situation happened to me two years ago, no one thought of calling the ambulance. Instead, there were two big soldiers carrying me as the office driver (my 'Fatimah' that time) drove me to the nearest hospital inside the military camp where I worked.

Never have imagined I would use this service during my stay here in Wellington.

Two similar situations, one deadly reason: I was trying to play 'God' again.
A few days back, I knew I had to slow down. But whenever I would shut myself from my daily routine, I would find myself thinking of the so many things I wish I could do and could've done.

Isaiah 30:15 says, "This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: 'In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.'"

Oftentimes, we try to run so fast and so strong. We try to run after so many things to give meaning to ourselves and others. But instead of finding answers, we find ourselves wanting more control so we can manipulate our realities until we become so insecure of ourselves because we realize we can only do so much. For others, the answer is simple: just give up. And once the chasing ends, both those who insisted and those who called it quits will find that in the secret, darkest place of their being is an eerie reality of nothingness. A total black out.

We can fill our lives with accomplishments, relationships, fat bank accounts, good works, and even religion (or the none of it). Or we can trust God and enter into His rest.

I am not saying that idleness is a better choice. But whenever we trust in our own capacities, when we go astray in our hearts from what God is telling us to do, when we harden our hearts to what He is saying to us, we will never know His ways, which are always the better way. No wonder, a lot of us struggle and feel like pushing a big rock that never moved. We keep on pushing and are unable to enter rest because we do not believe what God can do for and on behalf of us.

I ended up not working for the next two weeks. Some of my schedules were a little bit behind my timeline but I am still fine. In fact, I never felt more relieved. For I know that, whether in the mountains and the valleys of my being, God is with and before me. There are no black-outs, no dead-ends. Only better and brighter days ahead.

Ten to Three Hundred Sixty-Five (Part 7)

It's way past my "official" first anniversary in New Zealand. Yet, I haven't given the final item for my reflective blog series which I started two weeks ago. I didn't know it could be daunting to think of an object that would encapsulate an experience that is so big, ever-present, all-knowing yet gentle and assuring in so many ways.

I am talking about experiencing God in a whole new way here in NZ.

#10: The BIBLE

Food for the eyes, the body, and the soul.

Along with my 'valuable' items such as my worn-out old rose netbook, wallet, mobile phone and passport, I made sure that my Bible is in my hand-carry luggage on my way to NZ. Never mind if I lose my checked-in bag full of clothes as long as I have that good book with me on my first night away from home. That is how important my relationship with God is to me. And I think I am doing myself a disservice if I don't include Him in giving meaning to my one year here in NZ.

To begin with, going to a different country where you don't know anyone at all is a step of faith in itself. I admire the courage of the millions of Filipinos who immigrated to seek 'better opportunities' for their families and themselves. This is like having a clean slate and a fresh new start. But we all know that not everyone gets to have clean and fresh endings as well. If statistics and countless stories about the plight of Filipino migrants are to be taken, more have actually become worse after leaving the country.

This is where the importance of having an active - rather than a passive - faith, which is rooted in a living and growing relationship with God comes in. I mean, if you are in a new place, far from the unwritten restrictions that come with home-grown relationships, this 'new-found' freedom may appear to you as a license to do anything you want without regard for your loved ones back home -- who knew you before you left. And believe me, in a first-world country like NZ, it is easy to get carried away.

While I take into account the values of discipline, hard work, determination, and all those good ingredients for success, I think it all still comes down to one's worldview: What and how you think becomes your destiny. Because really, how can you keep the excitement of the first few months burning until the end of the year unless you are holding firmly onto something beyond what you can see? If I believe that there is God and that humans are meant to take in the same virtues of God (such as love and respect) because they are created in God's image, then it will be seen in my daily actions and decisions. Now, I am not saying that everything about my one year here in NZ was blameless. But that whenever I am presented with situations that would go against that truth, which will eventually ruin me in the long run, I step back and go to the Word.

Best birthday gift for 2013: A praying family. :)

And that just gives me clarity of purpose for why I am here and even encouragement that will strengthen my resolve to finish what I started here successfully. Words like "No one whose hope is in the Lord will ever be put to shame" (Psalm 25:3) or "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not need a thing" (Psalm 23:1) have been more than just Biblical verses but promises that have proven true in my life here.

Moreover, in my 365 days here, there were countless times that I just feel alone, despite having very good friends here (and granted that it is not readily obvious whenever I feel sad). The Word of God has been a source of comfort and security that no amount of shopping or exploring or endless eating/chatting with friends can give. Because really, it can get tiring. And there are times that you would just want to retreat and be at peace with yourself. But in a gloomy, overcast world that is Wellington, it is hard to just be alone. Various thoughts raging from silly to scary can come into your head. So what do I feed my mind with during those moments that I need to be quiet? Yep, the Word of God.

So as I bring this series to a close, I choose to give back all the glory to Him who has made my dreams come true. I choose to thank Him for bringing me here and for sustaining me for 365 days and more. I choose to recognize Him, for in those numerous moments that my perceptions of realities, wherein I hinged my judgment of what is right and true for me, are questioned and that I doubt even myself, "every word of (Him) is flawless; He is the shield that I run to" (Proverbs 30:5).

Thank you, Father, for all good things come from you. 








"God's word is alive and working and is sharper than a double-edged sword..." - Hebrews 4:12
"Be careful what you think, because your thoughts run your life." - Proverbs 4:23

Ten to Three Hundred Sixty-Five (Part 6)

Exactly three hundred and sixty-five days ago, I was on my first-ever international flight alone to a country I have never imagined going to. This is so I could fulfill a dream that I have long and silently kept in my heart: getting a postgraduate degree abroad.

For someone who comes from a middle-income family and whose job is just enough to support our household and allow for a reasonable amount of savings, getting a postgraduate degree in another country is a long shot. No matter how hard I work, I knew I would not be able to save enough money to afford it. Hence, going back to the university and becoming a student once again (through the scholarship) were among the most defining things in my one year in New Zealand.

#7: THE UNIVERSITY

Victoria University of Wellington:
Blending in to more than a century of learning!

Anyone who knows me well understand my deep love and faith in our country, including its state universities. The talent and intellectual brilliance of our people make up for the lack in material and financial resources for what could be among the brightest academic institutions in Asia. So why bother studying postgraduate degree abroad when our university back home can give you that?

While others may quickly point to the promise of a gigantic leap in 'professional growth' (which is likely), this is not my main reason for studying outside the country. I have always believed that learning is highly contextual. The information you are given with is couched in a very dynamic political, social, and cultural intricacies that shape how you see and interpret the world. After being subjected to the Philippine educational system (although highly influenced by the Americans) for a good 17 years, I guess it's time to experience a different perspective and hopefully, through it, I will be able to see new possibilities. 

Possibilities. This is what my one year education in Victoria University of Wellington (VUW) has taught me. Keeping to the standards of being New Zealand's top-ranked university in research quality for 2013, I had to change the way I was taught to write. Instead of narrating my way to an argument, I had to start my papers with clear thesis statements. I had to concur, reject, support or refute ideas instead of just merely suggesting them. And unlike back home where there are 'right or wrong' answers, students here are only given the 'whats' so they can figure out for themselves the 'what ifs.'


It really helps to have open and accepting people
like them when you are in a foreign school.

Of course, for you to be able to change the way you write, you first need to change the way you think. This is also another thing I appreciate about studying abroad. VUW is host to international students from over 100 countries. Imagine interacting with a rich, highly-diverse and uniquely creative minds from all walks of life in a learning tradition that started more than a century ago. Truly, this has challenged and stretched me and my long-held beliefs (not to mention having to interact in the English language all throughout). I was exposed to worlds different from my own and because of that, I was braver to visualize a different Philippines.

My preconceptions and perceptions about the 'Westerners' have likewise evolved throughout the process. As I get to know them better (in class and during all-nighters in the postgraduate computer lab, cramming a paper - haha), I realized that they are not so much different from me. While cultural assumptions are still at work, I discovered that it all boils down to the Golden Rule: respect to be respected; love to be loved, and; most importantly, smile to be smiled at.

#8: (Living in a) FLAT

This was home during my first ten months in NZ.

Another wonderful thing that happened to me this year was to experience living in a student accommodation. When I was doing my undergraduate degree back home, our house was a 20-minute drive away from the university. So I never get to experience living with other students in a 'dorm' or a rented private house.

Although my two accommodations here in NZ have been under the university administration, it is still considered as 'flatting.' Flatting, or living in a flat, is renting a private room or a house and sharing the space with other tenants. In my case, I got to live with people I barely know and had to adjust to their ways and habits. I am fortunate because all of my flatmates have been very nice, responsible and easy to get along with (and by that I mean they are not heavy drinkers or smokers, they pay their rent on time, and are not grossly messy). Of course, we have our different standards of what is appropriate and clean, but at least, we communicate and everyone cooperates - two very important values in any relationship, whether among similar or different cultures.

Make-up session with Hailie (left) and Silati (right)

As a matter of fact, my first two flatmates, Silati (who is from Tuvalu, a country in the Pacific which I have never heard before) and Hailie (who is from Vietnam), have become like sisters to me. I lived with them for nine months and you could just imagine the bond that developed from being able to see them from the time they wake up to the time they go to bed. Talk about really close encounter with cultures.


#9: FOOD (a smorgasbord on a budget!)

Sunday market: Wellington's version of our Divisioria.
Cheaper fruits and veggies.

Another important cultural aspect, food has definitely characterized my one year here in NZ. With the independence and freedom of living on your own, I was on a food adventure trying out stuff that we don't have back home while keeping to my budget. (Yes, living on a budget is very important for students, especially those under scholarship. We don't really receive much, especially once the flat rent is taken out from your stipend. Housing here in NZ is ridiculously expensive - like $200/week for a decent room!) I actually do not know how many dishes I have created or modified (recipes from the Internet) just to be able to make use of whatever is in my pantry and to obey what I feel like eating that day.

Truly Asian: taking photos before eating! :)

But since I study in a multicultural environment, foremost in my very own flat, I also get to taste food I only see in travel shows (and some that I haven't even heard of). Nothing beats having authentic Vietnamese, Indonesian or Cambodian food with (and prepared by!) the very people from those countries themselves. Just think of the conversations spurring from that. Who needs an almanac or 'The Lonely Planet' now?

During those times, I would realize that the reason I wanted to study abroad is that I just don't want to know; I want to learn. And by that, I need to be open and vulnerable to things I thought I 'knew.' For until I know, I think there is no more reason for me to go back to the university and learn.

For my classmates and friends from the VUW's Development Studies department. :)