The Things That I Love

I'm not born to be a musician but I love music. Nobody in the family is inclined to it, but I am spared of being one.
 
I can't really tell what influenced me on the field. I had an early exposure on music when I was still a kid. I was sent to a music school in our town years back.I've got to read the notes and keys on the music chart. The basic sounds of the lower "do" to the higher "do". One thing remarkable during those days is our maestro. He could play two instruments, specifically the trumpet with different tunes in one occasion. A skill which he mastered and had never been duplicated neither equalled up to this time.I had been a choir member in our school for quite some time, although I didn't have the voice.
 
I can play the guitar Again, nobody in the family knows how to play the instrument. It's the product of my patience and dedication through constant practice that turned things possible.It's one of my outlets for recreation. Perhaps, I can grab a guitar soon.
 
I draw. I'm fond of sketching anything under the sun.Plants and animals alike. Living and non-living things. Wherever my imagination would go, that's how far every stroke of my hand would go. This passion of mine is evident with a drawing culled out from a magazine dated in the eighties which I personally paint when I was still five or six years old.
 
I write. This passion has been cultivated over the years.I was once a staff of our school publication. I had attended several journalism seminars. The writer in me was awakened just recently when I was appointed as the agency's information officer. I never dreamed of such position considering I'm still a greenhorn in the office. But I guess it's time for me to scribble back.
 
The things that I love are not born. They're made. It's an endowed talent, to be honed and nurtured.

Am I destined to be one?

The untold story began when I was in my senior year in high school. It was the close of the year, graduation then was around the corner. Since it is customary for the school to hold thanksgiving mass for all the graduates, we had one, two days before the graduation rites, If my memory won't fail me. The ribbons, medals and certificates were blessed.
 
Two days later, we attended the usual Sunday mass in our parish.As we stepped out the church, Fr. Oscar our then parish priest greeted us. He asked me on what would I'll be taking in college.I was still undecided during that time on what to pursue on.I haven't thought of one.He even joked if I wanted to serve the Lord. Being a priest.I was stunned to my amazement. He would be more than willing to assist me whenever I'll respond to the call.
 
The simple joke just vanished into thin air. I pursued my studies in a christian university in Cebu. I've had experiences with some seminarians in one of my philosophy class. Contrary to what I'm thinking of them, silent and meek like lambs, but it seemed to be the opposite.They are like ferocious beasts.They spearheaded almost every indescent behavior in class. Unfriendly calls to the girls and even grin jokes. I couldn't imagine soon to be servants of the people like them.
 
My path and our parish priest's, crossed again when I had my vacation to our place in my sophomore year in college.He recollected what he said years back. He again offered me his intention to take the road less traveled. This time around his words kept me pondering, I haven't said yes, nor no either. I just smiled back at him which I think he understands.
 
Years rolled. I was in my last year in college.One of the activities for graduating octoberians,is the retreat. It aimed to enrich the spiritual aspect of every person. Lots of tears flowed on our checks and sobbed reverberated the retreat house as each participant shared his/her life's survival. The facilitators too, have shared their impressions on us. Our group facilitator uncoincidentally seen in me a priest figure. The same words our parish priest uttered years ago.
 
The last time I heard the same impression was with one of my officemates before.
 
I had always been and will always be christian.I was raised in a God-fearing family. Devoted Catholic. I could vividly remember my grandmother tagging me along to the church when I was still a child. The practice, basically was imprinted in my mind up to this time.
 
I couldn't imagine myself being on a celebate man's shoes. But whose not proud of wearing it.Only those destined has the right to fit the shoes in. Indeed, this question left unanswered to me and to most of us that only time can tell. "Am I destined to be one?"

The act of giving

Despite the hectic schedule that each and everyone of us at the start of the year, we took time to have an outreach program to a remote barangay in the city. The activity hatched before the end of the year, but was materialized only a couple of weeks ago. We agreed to share the countless blessings that we received during the year. An act of mercy to likewise thank the One who gave everything. What could be more significant than sharing it to others, especially the less fortunate and marginalized.

Groceries like noodles,canned goods and other basic commodities filled each plastic bag of the recipients.Lively faces of the locals were evident as they waited for their names to be called. Their smiles and words of thanks made our day more meaningful.In our own little way, we've touch the hearts of almost sixty families in the same way as they touched ours.

As we left and drove back to our homes, we felt a sigh of contentment.Something everyone doesn't feel everyday.

The act of giving is something every person must adhere. Giving freely without expecting a return. Not merely for monetary considerations or in kind as the case maybe. It goes beyond such things. An open ear to listen to someone who needs comfort. A helping hand whose willing to grab someone else's hand under a ditch. To heal the wounds of hatred that you one's feel towards a member of your family.

Indeed, what a beautiful world could it be when nobody is hungry, homeless and so much love dwells in every man's heart, and there is no better time to do it but now.

The Homecoming

After almost nine months of work in the vast oceans of Europe, as a seafarer , my older brother had his vacation late this year. He did several attempts to book his trip to Cebu as a jump off point to our home place Lazi, finally he got one just in time right after the New Year. He will be moving with his family to our hometown for good. They stayed in Cavite for quite some time. But lately, they decided to stay to our place.

This would be the first time that I'll see his wife, my niece and nephews in flesh. I only see them in pictures when my brother brought some, whenever he would visit our town. My Tito and Aunt in Manila said that the siblings resemble my father's profile, who had Turkish features. I wondered how these genes got into our bloodline. For one , our family have no foreign descent nor our ancestors had. But we are almost always mistaken to have one. I remembered one time while I was in Baguio for a seminar, one of our speakers, curiously threw a question on me. This concerns my features, whom he sees has Turkish and Arab attributes. This predicament was reiterated in a staff meeting together with the heads from the Central Office. "Do I look like one?" I'm not a descendant of Bin Laden. I quipped silently.

My brother's family arrived in Cebu late in the afternoon. Questions left hanging over my head slowly found it's answers. Raven, the oldest child had mixed genes of our parents. May-may, the middle child and the only girl, is the feminine replica of our father, and Ronin the youngest had also gained a lot from our lineage. Although, the kids can't understand the Cebuano dialect, and are still hesitant to approach me and our youngest brother, they have so much in store for the family.

They spent two days in the city, and paid a visit to our mother who stayed in my aunt's house for a week, for rest and vacation. She'd be back again for her check-up in a week's time. I'm sure they had many unguarded moments to capture , just the way when he met our father early during the day.

The next day, they journeyed to the province. Lots of surprises await them as they start building their family in a new found place like no other. A place that we call home.

Welcome back

Holiday is over. It's time again to wake up early in the morning for the everyday routine on working days.Although, I still have a hang-over on the activities for the past week and is yearning for more days of rest and relaxation, nothing can stop the turning of time.The clock ticks " It's time for work".

I could imagine how my colleagues would tell their stories during the holiday , I for one too have my own story. A story which every now and then I could open in my bag of memories with a smile.

Moments from now, I could see the faces of my office mates, the paperwork's that I almost deal with everyday,the hassle of the traffic in going to and from the office, to name a few.

There's nothing more I can do but embrace the new day.