Lately I have been thinking of weddings and what has become of our marriages.
Often times, we hear a sigh when we learn of a couple headed towards “Splitsville”. “But they had the most extravagant, romantic wedding!” we exclaim. It is as if we expect the wedding to predict the success of a marriage. I look back at my sisters’ and my own wedding and try to decipher whether there is indeed some truth to this.
I had the biggest wedding. Ever so young and naïve, I was lost in a sea of guests, most of whom I didn’t know. I had the most beautiful veil, elegant in its simplicity, only to get muddy after a heavy rain. There were candles atop each floral arrangement along the aisle to be lit as I walked down, only to be extinguished even before I passed them by.
In stark contrast, my eldest sister had the smallest wedding. Also very young, she only had the immediate family at a very simple ceremony in the neighborhood church. There were no lovely flowers to greet her. On the contrary it felt creepy seeing a few funeral wreaths on one side of the church! Devoid of any glamour and the accompanying trappings, it didn’t make it any less binding. After all, it is the same cake, only without the icing.
My second sister, the middle child, as if true to a psychologist’s view that they have the tendency to assert themselves, had a wedding non-traditional during her time. Marrying at a late age after first establishing her medical career, she confidently walked down the aisle with no one by her side. As if declaring her independence to everyone in attendance, to this day it has been very accurate of her distinct character.
In following tradition, it is said that the bride must wear something old, new, borrowed and blue - something old to ensure continuity with the past and the bride’s family, something new to symbolize optimism for the bride’s new life, something borrowed for good fortune to be carried over to the bride. But of course this has to come from a happily married friend or family. And lastly, something blue to represent purity and innocence. Is this however still applicable in today’s society? For after all some people say that a man cannot demand his bride to be a virgin if he himself cannot keep on his chastity belt!
I don’t even remember if any of us followed this tradition. I have never believed in superstition nor mere coincidences but among our marriages, only mine didn’t survive.
Did I get lost in trying to be the best in the multiple roles I was expected to take? Should my guiding light have not been extinguished to show me the way? I would have wanted to hand down my beautiful veil to my daughter if only it were not soiled. But I now shudder at the thought that my misfortune might be carried over to her.
Should we really then expect more out of a big wedding only to be disappointed later on? I have heard some people say that if you enter a marriage with a lot of expectations, your marriage will be doomed. To this I can only say do not enter marriage looking for happiness. You alone can make yourself happy. Your spouse is someone to share your happiness with, not someone from whom to derive the same.
As I have been thinking of weddings, I have just received a beautiful wedding invitation booklet. True to the couple’s profession, it is very well researched – historical, informative, inviting. One looks forward to experience more than just the wedding. There are blank pages thrown into the booklet, it makes one wonder… until you reach the end. An insert falls out and as you read it you all at once understand. It says:
“Feel free to fill the blank pages of this book-invitation
with your Singapore experiences.
Clip a snap or two!
See you at the wedding and let’s make beautiful
memories!”
Just like the blank pages, there will be countless days ahead to make beautiful memories, to share each other’s happiness, to weave dreams together. Days to look back to when the waters get rough, to encourage you to weather every storm and keep you on course until the calm returns.
Just like a book, you write your own ending.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Breakup Survival 101
I am hooked on reading blogs. My day is not complete without checking out my favorites. Interestingly, today I came across a post entitled “Great Break Up Songs”. From a list of ten, I chose three entitled “One Last Cry”, “I Will Survive”, and “Last Goodbye”. You’ll see why.
Fresh out of college, I married at 21 years old. Very young and naïve, I thought marriage would be a fairy tale. Like the stories I read as a little girl I believed it would end with “… and they lived happily ever after”. Looking back now, weddings were the happily ever after endings in fairy tales. After that, your guess was as good as mine.
For 24 years I clung to my marriage trying harder to make things work, hoping to at least make it to the 25th year. But there are things that we can’t stop from happening and it is then that we know when to walk away. It’s been two years now. I don’t remember when I had my one last cry. But I have survived gracefully. I am certainly not an expert in this but I have learned how to survive a breakup and yes, I have learned well. So if you’re still drowning in your sorrows, stand tall, wipe away those tears and learn a few lessons from me.
First, love yourself. When you look good, you feel good. I have always physically taken care of myself. While other women end up miserable and sink in despair, I could easily rival those younger ones whose waistlines could easily match their age. The gym with its dumb bells and Nautilus machines was my playground. But now I have moved on to more nature friendly mind and body wellness activities. I hear every breath I take as I lift my head out of the water, my body gliding across the distance of the pool while I do my laps. I see every muscle where once they never were – in my abdomen, my back, my arms – as they move in rhythm with each pilates repetition. I twist my body and flow with my breathing as I concentrate on my mind and body connection moving every inch closer to a full yoga pose. I catch the wind on my face as I pedal uphill and downhill on my bike until my muscles ache. I have never felt stronger and healthier. And I must admit I look better and feel more comfortable with my body now.
Pamper yourself with time alone. I have learned to go on solo trips. While others cannot imagine themselves doing this, I think it’s the best thing I ever did. I went on a solo trip to Bohol recently. Somehow it made me focus on myself mindful of my own safety. Having already seen the tourist spots before I was prepared to spend a quiet weekend in the resort. I armed myself with books to read, a journal to jot down random thoughts and my iPod to put me in a relaxed mood as I lounged by the pool and, not to forget, my swim goggles. I realized though that even as you prepare yourself for a weekend of solitude, you are somehow forced to go out of your comfort zone. I found myself engaging in conversation with the resort’s General Manager, the dining staff and even the “masahista” as I was having my massage on the beach. And ever so brave, I sat down by myself at a restaurant along the beach waiting for the sun to set while sipping my wine in between chats with waiters. With the attending fears, it was altogether a very liberating experience. I had a wonderful time and will definitely do it again. Go try it yourself.
Second, keep yourself occupied. When your mind is active, you have no time to dwell on the past. Grab a book. Take up a hobby or even a foreign language. Challenge your brain even with those very addicting Sudoku puzzles to keep Alzheimer’s away. Volunteer your time and share your blessings with the less fortunate. Try something different. There’s so much to do out there.
Early on after the breakup, I went back to work. While I was delighted to have been able to re-enter the work force at my age, I realized that it didn’t give me the same satisfaction I used to get when I was younger. I refused to be stuck and miserable. I didn’t waste time. Three months passed and I decided to quit. I have now turned my passion in cooking into a humble home business and continue to grab opportunities in the industry as they come. I too have recently attended writing workshops to nurture my mind and soul. Farthest from my mind, I took it up as a challenge. In my solitude, I am now able to compose my thoughts with wild imagination and creativity. And in my spare time, I teach arts and crafts to underprivileged children.
Third, be happy. Reconnect with women. In times of trouble, your sisters and girlfriends will always be there. Without them, your world will never be the same. My sisters have always been there for me. Somehow they have special roles in my life: the eldest is my confidante - I’ll never forget the time she sat with me for seven hours just listening and giving me words of wisdom; the second is my biggest supporter, encouraging me in pursuing my talent; my twin is my recreational partner, whether it be dining out or just hanging out in the beach.
I have re-connected with my girlfriends. There are seven of us in a closely knit group. We have scoured the restaurants from Binondo to as far as San Pablo, each meal peppered with wild secrets and lots of laughter. We may be naughty and crazy at times but we actually thrive on each other’s spirituality. And of course, there will always be my best friend. Despite the distance between us, I know she is just a phone call away. And even if we see each other only on occasional visits, we will always be there for one another.
Now, you might say that amidst all the heartache, this may be easier said than done. Okay, I won’t say it will just come to pass. There are conditions for this to happen and these are actually inspired by the best selling book, The Secret.
First - acceptance and forgiveness. Each of us has our own shortcomings. Accept the fact that there are things you cannot change and establish the qualities that are most important to you. Once you are able to do this you should be able to forgive your spouses and yourselves for all your faults. Second - thanksgiving. Be thankful for what you have, your children, your own families and all the happy memories you once had with your spouses. After all, there must have been some! Third – the intention to move on. Being miserable is your choice. It’s either you choose to wallow in your misery or move on and emerge a stronger person.
There is life indeed after a breakup. When you’re down there’s no other way to go but up. It’s all about the choices we make. I’m beginning to love myself more as each day brings a smile to my face. I have certainly moved on. I don’t remember anymore my one last cry. I have gracefully survived. But despite our differences we have remained friends. So there’s no need for a last goodbye, isn’t it?
Fresh out of college, I married at 21 years old. Very young and naïve, I thought marriage would be a fairy tale. Like the stories I read as a little girl I believed it would end with “… and they lived happily ever after”. Looking back now, weddings were the happily ever after endings in fairy tales. After that, your guess was as good as mine.
For 24 years I clung to my marriage trying harder to make things work, hoping to at least make it to the 25th year. But there are things that we can’t stop from happening and it is then that we know when to walk away. It’s been two years now. I don’t remember when I had my one last cry. But I have survived gracefully. I am certainly not an expert in this but I have learned how to survive a breakup and yes, I have learned well. So if you’re still drowning in your sorrows, stand tall, wipe away those tears and learn a few lessons from me.
First, love yourself. When you look good, you feel good. I have always physically taken care of myself. While other women end up miserable and sink in despair, I could easily rival those younger ones whose waistlines could easily match their age. The gym with its dumb bells and Nautilus machines was my playground. But now I have moved on to more nature friendly mind and body wellness activities. I hear every breath I take as I lift my head out of the water, my body gliding across the distance of the pool while I do my laps. I see every muscle where once they never were – in my abdomen, my back, my arms – as they move in rhythm with each pilates repetition. I twist my body and flow with my breathing as I concentrate on my mind and body connection moving every inch closer to a full yoga pose. I catch the wind on my face as I pedal uphill and downhill on my bike until my muscles ache. I have never felt stronger and healthier. And I must admit I look better and feel more comfortable with my body now.
Pamper yourself with time alone. I have learned to go on solo trips. While others cannot imagine themselves doing this, I think it’s the best thing I ever did. I went on a solo trip to Bohol recently. Somehow it made me focus on myself mindful of my own safety. Having already seen the tourist spots before I was prepared to spend a quiet weekend in the resort. I armed myself with books to read, a journal to jot down random thoughts and my iPod to put me in a relaxed mood as I lounged by the pool and, not to forget, my swim goggles. I realized though that even as you prepare yourself for a weekend of solitude, you are somehow forced to go out of your comfort zone. I found myself engaging in conversation with the resort’s General Manager, the dining staff and even the “masahista” as I was having my massage on the beach. And ever so brave, I sat down by myself at a restaurant along the beach waiting for the sun to set while sipping my wine in between chats with waiters. With the attending fears, it was altogether a very liberating experience. I had a wonderful time and will definitely do it again. Go try it yourself.
Second, keep yourself occupied. When your mind is active, you have no time to dwell on the past. Grab a book. Take up a hobby or even a foreign language. Challenge your brain even with those very addicting Sudoku puzzles to keep Alzheimer’s away. Volunteer your time and share your blessings with the less fortunate. Try something different. There’s so much to do out there.
Early on after the breakup, I went back to work. While I was delighted to have been able to re-enter the work force at my age, I realized that it didn’t give me the same satisfaction I used to get when I was younger. I refused to be stuck and miserable. I didn’t waste time. Three months passed and I decided to quit. I have now turned my passion in cooking into a humble home business and continue to grab opportunities in the industry as they come. I too have recently attended writing workshops to nurture my mind and soul. Farthest from my mind, I took it up as a challenge. In my solitude, I am now able to compose my thoughts with wild imagination and creativity. And in my spare time, I teach arts and crafts to underprivileged children.
Third, be happy. Reconnect with women. In times of trouble, your sisters and girlfriends will always be there. Without them, your world will never be the same. My sisters have always been there for me. Somehow they have special roles in my life: the eldest is my confidante - I’ll never forget the time she sat with me for seven hours just listening and giving me words of wisdom; the second is my biggest supporter, encouraging me in pursuing my talent; my twin is my recreational partner, whether it be dining out or just hanging out in the beach.
I have re-connected with my girlfriends. There are seven of us in a closely knit group. We have scoured the restaurants from Binondo to as far as San Pablo, each meal peppered with wild secrets and lots of laughter. We may be naughty and crazy at times but we actually thrive on each other’s spirituality. And of course, there will always be my best friend. Despite the distance between us, I know she is just a phone call away. And even if we see each other only on occasional visits, we will always be there for one another.
Now, you might say that amidst all the heartache, this may be easier said than done. Okay, I won’t say it will just come to pass. There are conditions for this to happen and these are actually inspired by the best selling book, The Secret.
First - acceptance and forgiveness. Each of us has our own shortcomings. Accept the fact that there are things you cannot change and establish the qualities that are most important to you. Once you are able to do this you should be able to forgive your spouses and yourselves for all your faults. Second - thanksgiving. Be thankful for what you have, your children, your own families and all the happy memories you once had with your spouses. After all, there must have been some! Third – the intention to move on. Being miserable is your choice. It’s either you choose to wallow in your misery or move on and emerge a stronger person.
There is life indeed after a breakup. When you’re down there’s no other way to go but up. It’s all about the choices we make. I’m beginning to love myself more as each day brings a smile to my face. I have certainly moved on. I don’t remember anymore my one last cry. I have gracefully survived. But despite our differences we have remained friends. So there’s no need for a last goodbye, isn’t it?
Thursday, September 06, 2007
A Thousand and One Faces
There was something about her I couldn’t quite explain. She had the most beautiful and expressive eyes, big and round framed by thick, dark eyelashes. She would excitedly run to me and hold my hand each time I arrived in class. She listened carefully and watched eagerly as I demonstrated the art project for the day. She seemed like an angel, almost too shy.
There were at least twenty five students in each of my two classes at Kaisahang Buhay Foundation (KBF), all of five to six years old. I dreaded the lopsided distribution of three boys to one girl as it really was a test of my patience. Like a rubber band being pulled on one end, I tried so hard to stretch it as long as it can without snapping at my students as soon as it breaks. But boys will be boys and I learned to accept them for what they are, forgiving of rambunctious little monsters, at least for most of the time. But she was different.
She quietly worked on her project but seemed to always want to finish ahead, almost rushing not mindful of the outcome. What was she afraid of? I thought perhaps she easily got bored. But she made others cry, boys included, as she grabbed their materials to create another one or to just simply destroy them. She seemed to derive pleasure in doing so. She was destructive. She showed a certain degree of aggressiveness others would just simply submit to. She was a bully.
I gave her a little warning but her eyes begged me to be more patient, pleaded for me not to be angry. All at once I realized she liked the attention. I looked at her project. It didn’t resemble anything close to the sample I showed them. She had a mind of her own. Was she being creative or just being rebellious? I looked at her coloring sheet that I rewarded them with after doing their project. It was a web of black colored strokes haphazardly drawn outside the picture’s edges. Was she angry? I tried to be very careful not to criticize her work so as not to make her feel rejected. I encouraged her to do it once again, showing her the right way to do it but she was very distracted. I couldn’t read her mind. Her eyes this time were totally blank.
I went to her class once every month and each time she exhibited the same behavior. I tried to dismiss it as out of the ordinary. But something in her struck me and I needed to find out what it was that made her so different. As small as she was, she seemed to be a volcano waiting to explode.
I probed into her family life hoping to find answers to what was bothering her. Or was it I who was bothered? Her father was serving a prison term for drug pushing. Her mother passed her on to the care of her aunt as she could hardly make ends meet occasionally accepting laundering jobs in order to survive. It probably didn’t matter to her that her father was in jail. Perhaps she wasn’t even aware of it or was just too young to understand but having been given up by her mother was the ultimate form of rejection. While this may have been painful to her, I cannot simply fathom her mother’s pain giving her up to afford her a relatively better life.
With so much desire for her to belong, she excitedly started going to school longing to be in the company of other children her age. Her initial feeling of rejection probably began to manifest making life for her teacher difficult. She was a handful! Her teacher, probably not knowing where she was coming from, ultimately gave up on her. She was transferred to another school and once again felt rejected.
This is where I met her. This is where I came to see her if only once a month. It is all clear to me now. Her eyes elicited a thousand and one emotions. She was distinctly filled with anger, sadness and fear. She felt rejected and begged for love and attention. She was always afraid to be left behind. Her eyes spoke to me, pleading for acceptance. And all she wanted was for me to understand.
I now ponder what really is the spirit of volunteerism? Is it just giving a little of our time? Do we actually dare to study their environment? Do we truly give them hope for a better life? Do we in fact give them dignity?
In essence, it entails three aspects: physical, mental and emotional involvement. By being there with them for only but a few hours, we give them importance. It tells them that we choose to be with them despite our busy schedules. When we try to examine their background, we are better able to identify their needs and cultivate their minds. More importantly, when we try to look deeper into their hearts, we are able to nurture both our souls.
I hope, in time, the sadness in her eyes will be replaced with joy, the anger with acceptance and the fear with pride. I wish, one day, the stigma she once felt will be forever gone as she radiantly surfaces above all in her own social sphere.
There were at least twenty five students in each of my two classes at Kaisahang Buhay Foundation (KBF), all of five to six years old. I dreaded the lopsided distribution of three boys to one girl as it really was a test of my patience. Like a rubber band being pulled on one end, I tried so hard to stretch it as long as it can without snapping at my students as soon as it breaks. But boys will be boys and I learned to accept them for what they are, forgiving of rambunctious little monsters, at least for most of the time. But she was different.
She quietly worked on her project but seemed to always want to finish ahead, almost rushing not mindful of the outcome. What was she afraid of? I thought perhaps she easily got bored. But she made others cry, boys included, as she grabbed their materials to create another one or to just simply destroy them. She seemed to derive pleasure in doing so. She was destructive. She showed a certain degree of aggressiveness others would just simply submit to. She was a bully.
I gave her a little warning but her eyes begged me to be more patient, pleaded for me not to be angry. All at once I realized she liked the attention. I looked at her project. It didn’t resemble anything close to the sample I showed them. She had a mind of her own. Was she being creative or just being rebellious? I looked at her coloring sheet that I rewarded them with after doing their project. It was a web of black colored strokes haphazardly drawn outside the picture’s edges. Was she angry? I tried to be very careful not to criticize her work so as not to make her feel rejected. I encouraged her to do it once again, showing her the right way to do it but she was very distracted. I couldn’t read her mind. Her eyes this time were totally blank.
I went to her class once every month and each time she exhibited the same behavior. I tried to dismiss it as out of the ordinary. But something in her struck me and I needed to find out what it was that made her so different. As small as she was, she seemed to be a volcano waiting to explode.
I probed into her family life hoping to find answers to what was bothering her. Or was it I who was bothered? Her father was serving a prison term for drug pushing. Her mother passed her on to the care of her aunt as she could hardly make ends meet occasionally accepting laundering jobs in order to survive. It probably didn’t matter to her that her father was in jail. Perhaps she wasn’t even aware of it or was just too young to understand but having been given up by her mother was the ultimate form of rejection. While this may have been painful to her, I cannot simply fathom her mother’s pain giving her up to afford her a relatively better life.
With so much desire for her to belong, she excitedly started going to school longing to be in the company of other children her age. Her initial feeling of rejection probably began to manifest making life for her teacher difficult. She was a handful! Her teacher, probably not knowing where she was coming from, ultimately gave up on her. She was transferred to another school and once again felt rejected.
This is where I met her. This is where I came to see her if only once a month. It is all clear to me now. Her eyes elicited a thousand and one emotions. She was distinctly filled with anger, sadness and fear. She felt rejected and begged for love and attention. She was always afraid to be left behind. Her eyes spoke to me, pleading for acceptance. And all she wanted was for me to understand.
I now ponder what really is the spirit of volunteerism? Is it just giving a little of our time? Do we actually dare to study their environment? Do we truly give them hope for a better life? Do we in fact give them dignity?
In essence, it entails three aspects: physical, mental and emotional involvement. By being there with them for only but a few hours, we give them importance. It tells them that we choose to be with them despite our busy schedules. When we try to examine their background, we are better able to identify their needs and cultivate their minds. More importantly, when we try to look deeper into their hearts, we are able to nurture both our souls.
I hope, in time, the sadness in her eyes will be replaced with joy, the anger with acceptance and the fear with pride. I wish, one day, the stigma she once felt will be forever gone as she radiantly surfaces above all in her own social sphere.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Rincon de Santa Ana: Is it Summer or Christmas?
Rincon de Santa Ana, Barrio Tanagan, Calatagan, Batangas. A cloud of dust swirls around as we drive through dust covered trees, its leaves struggling to get a breath of fresh air, its roots running like veins on parched land – is it trying to find its way to quench its thirst? The scorching sun drives our car air conditioners up to full blast as it penetrates even the darkest car window tint. Another short stretch more of dirt road and finally we reach the black iron gates draped with bougainvillas, bursting with fiery colors. Past through the gates we finally see the sand, sea and shore gleaming in the bright sunlight. And in the evening stars shine bright in the clear dark nights. These are the summers we look forward to each year in Calatagan, pretty much the same as summers others are familiar with.
But wait a minute! Together with the tons of food and summer gear being unloaded from the cars are bags of used clothing including much sought after underwear, old toys and reading books ready to be stored at the attic of one of the houses in our little private enclave. Already it is the start of our Christmas season. Did I hear that right? Yes, summer signals the onset of our annual outreach project, as we start soliciting anything and everything no longer used by one but most likely to be appreciated by others. Much like the spring cleaning done in other parts of the world where there are four seasons, a whole lot of us do our own version of summer cleaning right after school’s over. And while other items are sold at garage sales, family and friends donate to us those that can be used by our barrio people.
What started out as a small gathering of around ten to twenty children has now ballooned to a family affair with around three hundred fifty in attendance. While our barrio brothers and sisters look forward to this event, we, the homeowners and our families look forward too to welcoming them in our village to spread Christmas cheer.
It is a sight to see. Many of them line up outside the gate in the morning eagerly awaiting an afternoon of games, food and prizes. Our children give much thought to the planning – choosing games that people of all ages will enjoy, even selecting music and dances that the barrio folks are familiar with. As far back as I can remember, it started out with the Macarena, then on to Aserehe, Ocho-ocho, Spaghetti Pababa and the now very popular Boom Tarat Tarat being played even in this year’s election fever. I can’t describe their joy, mother’s included, as they perform the latest dance craze and as one receives an incomplete set of plates for a prize. So just think, anything old and seemingly useless to you is very much appreciated and priceless to them.
While summer is for soliciting used items, the –ber months lead up to the culmination of this much awaited event. September is for soliciting gift packs from commercial sponsors; October, soliciting cash from donors; November, trips to Divisoria to stretch our donations as much as we can, scouring the market for bargain finds before the Christmas rush. And finally December, collecting the pledged gift packs for its final delivery to the barrio.
But the best part of it all is having our children come together one or two days before the big day, sorting and packing gift bags for the three hundred fifty or more expected guests. Believe me, it’s not an easy task, one sometimes gives up just before the job is done. But it’s okay, any amount of help goes a long, long way. And then the big day comes, our children, families and barrio folk all together with no barriers whatsoever. With a trace of tired look on our children’s faces, they still manage to smile knowing that they have made other people smile too.
Rincon de Santa Ana, Barrio Tanagan, Calatagan, Batangas. We drive through greenery, lush trees covered with dew. The dust has settled and at times there comes a slight drizzle. A cold breeze greets us as we approach the sand, sea and shore. The stars may not shine as bright in the dark, cloudy skies but the people’s smiles shine brighter on us after sharing with them a fun filled Christmas.
------------------------
If you wish to donate any used items for our annual Christmas outreach project, you may call 807-6431.
But wait a minute! Together with the tons of food and summer gear being unloaded from the cars are bags of used clothing including much sought after underwear, old toys and reading books ready to be stored at the attic of one of the houses in our little private enclave. Already it is the start of our Christmas season. Did I hear that right? Yes, summer signals the onset of our annual outreach project, as we start soliciting anything and everything no longer used by one but most likely to be appreciated by others. Much like the spring cleaning done in other parts of the world where there are four seasons, a whole lot of us do our own version of summer cleaning right after school’s over. And while other items are sold at garage sales, family and friends donate to us those that can be used by our barrio people.
What started out as a small gathering of around ten to twenty children has now ballooned to a family affair with around three hundred fifty in attendance. While our barrio brothers and sisters look forward to this event, we, the homeowners and our families look forward too to welcoming them in our village to spread Christmas cheer.
It is a sight to see. Many of them line up outside the gate in the morning eagerly awaiting an afternoon of games, food and prizes. Our children give much thought to the planning – choosing games that people of all ages will enjoy, even selecting music and dances that the barrio folks are familiar with. As far back as I can remember, it started out with the Macarena, then on to Aserehe, Ocho-ocho, Spaghetti Pababa and the now very popular Boom Tarat Tarat being played even in this year’s election fever. I can’t describe their joy, mother’s included, as they perform the latest dance craze and as one receives an incomplete set of plates for a prize. So just think, anything old and seemingly useless to you is very much appreciated and priceless to them.
While summer is for soliciting used items, the –ber months lead up to the culmination of this much awaited event. September is for soliciting gift packs from commercial sponsors; October, soliciting cash from donors; November, trips to Divisoria to stretch our donations as much as we can, scouring the market for bargain finds before the Christmas rush. And finally December, collecting the pledged gift packs for its final delivery to the barrio.
But the best part of it all is having our children come together one or two days before the big day, sorting and packing gift bags for the three hundred fifty or more expected guests. Believe me, it’s not an easy task, one sometimes gives up just before the job is done. But it’s okay, any amount of help goes a long, long way. And then the big day comes, our children, families and barrio folk all together with no barriers whatsoever. With a trace of tired look on our children’s faces, they still manage to smile knowing that they have made other people smile too.
Rincon de Santa Ana, Barrio Tanagan, Calatagan, Batangas. We drive through greenery, lush trees covered with dew. The dust has settled and at times there comes a slight drizzle. A cold breeze greets us as we approach the sand, sea and shore. The stars may not shine as bright in the dark, cloudy skies but the people’s smiles shine brighter on us after sharing with them a fun filled Christmas.
------------------------
If you wish to donate any used items for our annual Christmas outreach project, you may call 807-6431.
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