A melodrama of highs and lows
August 7, 2005 | 12:00am
It was the most helter-skelter two days for me. Everything I hoped and worked for turned out the exact opposite. It was just one booboo after another. Although helter-skelter is usually the state of my mind before any trip that takes me away from home for more than three days, I have never been as absent-minded as I have just been. I was so busy tying up all the loose ends of my great to-do list to ensure that the household would run on its own while I was away that my efforts actually rendered me absent in the present – and that in itself is laughably absurd and contradictory. Just why is it always so easy to be physically present yet mentally absent, especially under harassed circumstances? And why, despite our best efforts, do all these little unexpected things pop up when you least expect and want them to?
I love the idea of Richard and me going away on a trip, just the two of us. But my heart always breaks at the reality that for this particular one, we would have to leave the little one behind. School, you know.
Still, I cannot bring myself to be totally okay with the thought of not having my little best friend around 24/7. As a matter of fact, the very first time I had to do that was last year when I went to Malaysia for work. The night before my trip, I was bawling (no exaggeration) in front of my very perplexed daughter and my amused husband.
I think I get it now. I suspect – no, let me rephrase that – I know that the underlying reason for my absent-mindedness, which led to a series of fiction-like little mishaps, is rooted in separation anxiety. This was only the second time I would be away from Juliana for more than two nights. And I hate the feeling. What do you know? I am a clingy mommy.
So, there I was the day before my trip, on my way to the salon to have my nails done while Juliana was taking a nap. Just before I stepped out the front door, I realized my feet felt, well, funny. Like something was off, or maybe not properly on, I cannot anymore say for sure. I looked down to discover, to my horror, my right foot in a white house slipper and the left one in a leather flip-flop adorned with a huge beaded flower. At least they were both in black and white. But that sort of thing only happens in movies that try so hard to be funny.
Dashing back upstairs, I got the matching pair and made a mental checklist of what else I might have forgotten. My cell phone was the usual suspect. I am legendary for leaving it behind. In the salon, I was able to relax a bit, largely because I serendipitously came across a parenting magazine that had an article about separation anxiety. God is so good. I’m sure that was His way of telling me that all would be okay while Richard and I were away. I looked up to flash God a quick thank-you smile and caught myself in the mirror. I so looked like I was having both a bad-hair and face day: My hair was hastily clamped with a banana clip and I had dark circles the size of bibingka under my eyes (too many late nights reading a book and watching Season 1 of Desperate Housewives). And I happened to have had only one earring on. The last time this happened to me was way back in Grade 6, and I woke up running very late for school on an exam day. Suddenly turning superstitious, a bullying voice inside me whispered that things happen in threes. Determined not to let that happen, I told myself to stop being so melodramatic about my worries and stay focused. I realized I was the source of all my booboos. I had nothing but my fretful brain to blame.
I asked for the bill and that’s when number three happened. I left my wallet at home. I scrambled through the pockets of my bag for some bills I might have stuffed in haste and came up with a measly P20 bill and two 25-centavo coins. Not even enough tip to cover one clean finger, much less a pedicured toe. I had no choice but to ask my driver to go home and please get my wallet. Again, I only had myself to blame.
The following day, I was scheduled to interview Fr. Thomas Keating, a wonderful person who has worked tirelessly through the years to bring centering prayer to active ministries and lay people all over the world. Now, this was something I had been looking forward to for months. I read his books, prepared the tape recorder and my digital camera and thought I was all set (pat on the back). Of course, if the events of the day before were to be a precedent, I should have known there would still be a tail end of my veritable booboos. All of a sudden, the tape recorder refused to record. I put in new batteries, still the same scratchy hum. I screamed "Hello" into the recorder. Finally! An intelligible blog! But pray tell, how can I explain to the good monk that he would have to literally scream into the recorder for me to get good sound? Heaven forbid I subject him to that! Near tears and terribly frustrated, I belatedly realized that I should have bought a mic. And despite my husband’s best efforts at short notice, no mic was available that was compatible with the ancient tape recorder I had in my possession.
In the car on my way to the 10 a.m. interview at the residence of Lita Salinas, president of the board of trustees of Contemplative Outreach Philippines, I asked God to please, please make me capable of capturing everything he said with my own hands, and retain what I cannot in my memory. I did not have a tape recorder I could not rely on and I did not want to lose the soul of his thoughts. I so wished then I knew how to do stenography. Resigned to my fate, I went over my notes one last time.
Then I got the text message. Straight from heaven’s doors, I would like to think. Tita Nancy Tambunting, who has been devotedly doing centering prayer religiously for many years, texted to wish me luck on my interview and ask if I was recording it. If so, the message said, she would love to listen to it afterwards. I texted back to say that although that was the original plan, things somehow fell apart. Now, this is the "from heaven" part: She asked if I wanted her to send her husband over to tape it on video. I cannot impose on you that way, I texted back. Her next text came with finality: "I will send him over." Alleluia! I was shy to take on the offer but I was even more desperate.
And so it was. Tito Jun Tambunting, dapper in his barong (obviously martial-lawed/ambushed by Tita Nancy on his way to work), arrived a few minutes after I did and patiently, good-naturedly recorded on cam the whole interview that lasted way over one hour. If that was not God’s hand upon man’s ways, I do not know what is.
That was the best thing that ever happened, because in hindsight, there was absolutely no way that I could capture everything by my hand alone. Fr. Keating shared his wisdom and many thoughts, all so beautifully said that any attempt at rephrasing or editing them would be nothing short of an injustice. He shared so much food for the soul.
All’s well that ends well. The experience with Fr. Keating left me spiritually high and ever so in love with the God that directs the journey of life, with all its nuances, surprises, setbacks and all. Nothing is ever beyond Him.
After the interview, I went home to finalize my great to-do list and do some final packing for our flight to San Francisco that night. There were still a few things left undone, but I guess they could wait. For now, that was how the cookie crumbled. Juliana hugged her daddy goodbye, whispering in his ear to please not forget to buy her capris, backless shirts, and high heels. Whatever happened to toys, toys, and more toys? When did four-year-old girls start liking fashion more than toys? Richard seemed dazed at her request.
Several delays and a cancelled flight later, I now believe what in my heart I have always known. All these little mishaps are God’s fingers on our shoulder, reminding us not to take ourselves so seriously all the time. Making us mindful, too, that nothing is entirely up to us. His providence begins where our abilities end. Despite the best-laid plans, the best intentions, it’s His way that will persevere in the end. It may not always be a smooth ride, but the bumps He allows us to experience only heighten our appreciation for all things, big and small. Thank God, He is ever so much smarter than us.
Here’s another chance to fall in love with God.
The recollection with Father Keating last July 23 was jam-packed, and many people who wanted to join could not be accommodated due to seating constraints.
If you missed that one there is another Introductory to Centering Prayer Retreat on Aug. 12 and 14, both at 12 p.m. It will be held again at the St. Joseph Marello Retreat House in Tagaytay. Call Jazmin at 842-0201 and 843-8830 for more details.
I love the idea of Richard and me going away on a trip, just the two of us. But my heart always breaks at the reality that for this particular one, we would have to leave the little one behind. School, you know.
Still, I cannot bring myself to be totally okay with the thought of not having my little best friend around 24/7. As a matter of fact, the very first time I had to do that was last year when I went to Malaysia for work. The night before my trip, I was bawling (no exaggeration) in front of my very perplexed daughter and my amused husband.
I think I get it now. I suspect – no, let me rephrase that – I know that the underlying reason for my absent-mindedness, which led to a series of fiction-like little mishaps, is rooted in separation anxiety. This was only the second time I would be away from Juliana for more than two nights. And I hate the feeling. What do you know? I am a clingy mommy.
So, there I was the day before my trip, on my way to the salon to have my nails done while Juliana was taking a nap. Just before I stepped out the front door, I realized my feet felt, well, funny. Like something was off, or maybe not properly on, I cannot anymore say for sure. I looked down to discover, to my horror, my right foot in a white house slipper and the left one in a leather flip-flop adorned with a huge beaded flower. At least they were both in black and white. But that sort of thing only happens in movies that try so hard to be funny.
Dashing back upstairs, I got the matching pair and made a mental checklist of what else I might have forgotten. My cell phone was the usual suspect. I am legendary for leaving it behind. In the salon, I was able to relax a bit, largely because I serendipitously came across a parenting magazine that had an article about separation anxiety. God is so good. I’m sure that was His way of telling me that all would be okay while Richard and I were away. I looked up to flash God a quick thank-you smile and caught myself in the mirror. I so looked like I was having both a bad-hair and face day: My hair was hastily clamped with a banana clip and I had dark circles the size of bibingka under my eyes (too many late nights reading a book and watching Season 1 of Desperate Housewives). And I happened to have had only one earring on. The last time this happened to me was way back in Grade 6, and I woke up running very late for school on an exam day. Suddenly turning superstitious, a bullying voice inside me whispered that things happen in threes. Determined not to let that happen, I told myself to stop being so melodramatic about my worries and stay focused. I realized I was the source of all my booboos. I had nothing but my fretful brain to blame.
I asked for the bill and that’s when number three happened. I left my wallet at home. I scrambled through the pockets of my bag for some bills I might have stuffed in haste and came up with a measly P20 bill and two 25-centavo coins. Not even enough tip to cover one clean finger, much less a pedicured toe. I had no choice but to ask my driver to go home and please get my wallet. Again, I only had myself to blame.
The following day, I was scheduled to interview Fr. Thomas Keating, a wonderful person who has worked tirelessly through the years to bring centering prayer to active ministries and lay people all over the world. Now, this was something I had been looking forward to for months. I read his books, prepared the tape recorder and my digital camera and thought I was all set (pat on the back). Of course, if the events of the day before were to be a precedent, I should have known there would still be a tail end of my veritable booboos. All of a sudden, the tape recorder refused to record. I put in new batteries, still the same scratchy hum. I screamed "Hello" into the recorder. Finally! An intelligible blog! But pray tell, how can I explain to the good monk that he would have to literally scream into the recorder for me to get good sound? Heaven forbid I subject him to that! Near tears and terribly frustrated, I belatedly realized that I should have bought a mic. And despite my husband’s best efforts at short notice, no mic was available that was compatible with the ancient tape recorder I had in my possession.
In the car on my way to the 10 a.m. interview at the residence of Lita Salinas, president of the board of trustees of Contemplative Outreach Philippines, I asked God to please, please make me capable of capturing everything he said with my own hands, and retain what I cannot in my memory. I did not have a tape recorder I could not rely on and I did not want to lose the soul of his thoughts. I so wished then I knew how to do stenography. Resigned to my fate, I went over my notes one last time.
Then I got the text message. Straight from heaven’s doors, I would like to think. Tita Nancy Tambunting, who has been devotedly doing centering prayer religiously for many years, texted to wish me luck on my interview and ask if I was recording it. If so, the message said, she would love to listen to it afterwards. I texted back to say that although that was the original plan, things somehow fell apart. Now, this is the "from heaven" part: She asked if I wanted her to send her husband over to tape it on video. I cannot impose on you that way, I texted back. Her next text came with finality: "I will send him over." Alleluia! I was shy to take on the offer but I was even more desperate.
And so it was. Tito Jun Tambunting, dapper in his barong (obviously martial-lawed/ambushed by Tita Nancy on his way to work), arrived a few minutes after I did and patiently, good-naturedly recorded on cam the whole interview that lasted way over one hour. If that was not God’s hand upon man’s ways, I do not know what is.
That was the best thing that ever happened, because in hindsight, there was absolutely no way that I could capture everything by my hand alone. Fr. Keating shared his wisdom and many thoughts, all so beautifully said that any attempt at rephrasing or editing them would be nothing short of an injustice. He shared so much food for the soul.
All’s well that ends well. The experience with Fr. Keating left me spiritually high and ever so in love with the God that directs the journey of life, with all its nuances, surprises, setbacks and all. Nothing is ever beyond Him.
After the interview, I went home to finalize my great to-do list and do some final packing for our flight to San Francisco that night. There were still a few things left undone, but I guess they could wait. For now, that was how the cookie crumbled. Juliana hugged her daddy goodbye, whispering in his ear to please not forget to buy her capris, backless shirts, and high heels. Whatever happened to toys, toys, and more toys? When did four-year-old girls start liking fashion more than toys? Richard seemed dazed at her request.
Several delays and a cancelled flight later, I now believe what in my heart I have always known. All these little mishaps are God’s fingers on our shoulder, reminding us not to take ourselves so seriously all the time. Making us mindful, too, that nothing is entirely up to us. His providence begins where our abilities end. Despite the best-laid plans, the best intentions, it’s His way that will persevere in the end. It may not always be a smooth ride, but the bumps He allows us to experience only heighten our appreciation for all things, big and small. Thank God, He is ever so much smarter than us.
The recollection with Father Keating last July 23 was jam-packed, and many people who wanted to join could not be accommodated due to seating constraints.
If you missed that one there is another Introductory to Centering Prayer Retreat on Aug. 12 and 14, both at 12 p.m. It will be held again at the St. Joseph Marello Retreat House in Tagaytay. Call Jazmin at 842-0201 and 843-8830 for more details.
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