Saturday, August 22, 2009

Sunday, August 16, 2009


I was attending this seminar on "Reading Difficulties" and yes, I was disappointed. It was one of the worst seminars that I've registered myself into. Well, thanks to the school who made a foot on the bill. I found myself complaining at the way the method was made. So "old school." And there more than 300 people in the room. The speaker was reading "thoroughly" her so-called materials that were surprisingly photocopied from several books with horrible letters that some were too tiny to matter.

Good enough there was Joni, a friend from another church. I sat with Joni and we both agreed that the lecture has been sssssssssssssssssooooooooooooooooooooo "ineffective."

After a boring morning, I looked for a comfortable sofa to steal sleeping moments while having a break for it was awfully cold. (BTW, the morning activity was so full of a GTKY activity that was so non-sensible like "Look for someone who doesn't have a boyfriend?" I mean, "Who cares?")


I managed to continue the afternoon session. I was trying to find worth with the school money used for my registration. Joni and I were both very sleepy. Who wouldn't? While I was having coffee to avoid sleeping, Joni and I began talking about the word " meaning?"

We both realized that we needed to find meaning in that seminar. And I can't help but think about the WORD. It became a big word that afternoon. I told Joni my worries on the said word. You see, in my workplace, I worry a lot recently.

I worry that my co - teachers will not find "meaning" anymore in what they do. I worry that they will stop looking for that "meaning" because they are tired. I worry that some lost it ... in the middle of "things."

I worry about the "new" teachers, too. I worry that they will not be able to see meaning in what they do especially through training. I am more worried that they will not be able to find it.

While I was lost in my thoughts, I suddenly heard the speaker mention a poem that caught my attention finally. Though the material I was reading was crudely photocopied, I found myself mumbling words that I liked. It was Shel Silverstein's "The Zebra Question."

Here it is. I am proud to say I memorized it after one reading.

Shel Silverstein

I once asked a zebra,
"Are you white with black stripes?
Or are you black with white stripes?"

Then the zebra asked me,
" Are you good with bad habits?
Or are you bad with good habits?"
"Are you happy with some sad days?
Or are you sad with some happy days?"
"Are you neat with some sloppy ways?
Or are you sloppy with some neat ways?"

The zebra went on and on and on
And on and on again ...
And I said to myself,
"I will never ask the zebra that same question again?"

In our search for meaning, we find ourselves asking a lot of questions? I saw myself in the poem. And yes, why do I ask every now and then? Though my questions are important to me, I should realize that to look for "meaning" through things does not need to be hard.

There are things that naturally happen by chance and all we need to do is appreciate them. There can be things, also, that require our choices. And there are things that we simply can not control, whether they happen by chance or by choice.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

sisig rules!

There has never been a day when you do not enjoy a sumptous meal like this ...

Monday, August 3, 2009


Lately, i had met a new person in a boy called Mac in our church. He's one those people you'd choose not to speak to because he has blades in his tongue! (Joke Mac ha!)

Personally, I had an encounter with this boy last summer camp and I cried but then his words brought me thinking - maybe I hadn't tried really well as GM of that camp.

Lately, he has been sharing a lot of his passions for Christ and for the kingdom. And young people like Mac amazes me. Why? He reminded me of my younger days - days, when like he, will bring me to radically serve Jesus.

But this is not the focal point of my post!

I think in every Christian, the real McCoy should show up - genuineness that is. This will always leave me thinking -- am I a Christian after all? Who am I when pressures strike? Who am I when the cookie crumbles?

In my hearts of hearts, i know I have the worst of all flaws (according to my standards) but in this heart also, I know that my passion for Christ has always been the same -- to be able to serve Him faithfully without reservations and limits ...

And yet I find myself not doing enough. . .

What about you?

What's the real McCoy in you?