Day 31: A certified poor beggar

"Good morning po. Pwede po makahingi ng pagkain?" (May I ask for food?) I was hesitant to say this for the first time to somebody not related to me, apprehensive of the negative reaction it would gather from the person from whom I was saying it to. I did! And God's Mercy was shown through the words of the request-recipient when she replied: "Mag-antay lang po kayo sa puno." (Just wait under the tree.) Much more, when I was offered a box of cooked rice and some scrambled egg with a disposable fork and spoon -- plus, a bottle of water. I went out from the compound of the Carmelite monastery in Bajada to eat the food somewhere else. Realization dawned on me: I am now a certified poor beggar! Another day, I uttered the same statement: "Good noon po. Pwede po makahingi ng pagkain?" The reply was: "Please speak in English." "I am asking for food," I said. "You have not eaten yet?" the nun asked. I replied: "Yes." I went out from the chapel of another nunnery with some steamed rice scraped from the bottom of the pot -- plus, fried heads of fish! Another day: I said to the doorkeeper of another institution, "Kuy, mangayo lang ko og pagkaon." (Sir, I am asking for some food.) "Tan-awon usa nako kung naa pa." (Let me see if there are some leftovers.) He returned with some steamed rice and fried fish nuggets. I tried not to go begging to the same institution everyday so they would not grow tired of me. Why should I not work instead? I am willing to work when there is a job for me. But I am already working: my work is allowing God to work through me in this blog. I deserve to be fed. But I am begging. I deserve a shelter. But my bed is a piece of carton in the sidewalk. I deserve a ride. But I am walking. I am agreeable to this kind of life because I am trying to live the life of possibly the "poorest of the poor" whose trust in the Lord is so great that every time the "Our Father" is sung, tears easily fall in sobs. Drama? It is a real-life drama. Even Job was a dramatist whose outpourings deserve to be treated with silence, for in silence you let him express himself and ease his pain. It is "good work" on your part. St. Francis of Assisi himself almost became blind because of constant shedding of tears. The poor always shed tears. Always dependent upon the Lord of all its needs; the Lord becomes their Very Own Need. "...do not cry for Me [the poor Jesus] but cry for yourselves..." "...cleanse first the inside of the cup, so that the outside [the government in view of the current 'pork barrel' misuse issue] also may be clean." You are not to give all -- but simplify your life; give up luxury. Availing of luxuries you do not spend is the same as owning it.

Attachment to God or money?

"...WHOEVER DRINKS OF THE WATER THAT I SHALL GIVE WILL NEVER BE THIRSTY..." -John 4: 14

Indeed, when man realizes the purpose for his existence, he will no longer pursue the trifles of life -- but to KNOW THE ONE WHO CREATED HIM FOR A PURPOSE.

And that is the purpose for his creation: TO PLEASE GOD AND GOD ALONE.

When he strives to please God, he is no longer a people-pleaser and a self-pleaser. 

But a God-pleaser alone! 

When one is a God-pleaser, he becomes a lighted object, as the moon lighted by the sun. 

And people will begin to take notice of him because he is different. 

Most regard him as deranged or someone as attention-seeker or even as wallet-snatcher. 

But people will eventually love him, for wisdom is proved true in its time. 

Time will also come when people will no longer look up to him but to the Source of his Light -- GOD. 

Then, they too will become like him -- even more. 

He is pleasing to God when he believes His every Word and does them; and His Words are found in the Book of Life. 

Here, man's secrets are revealed -- like his secret yet familiar attachment to MONEY. 

Money is the "isaacs" of modern "abrahams" -- us. 

This is where we are tested everyday: If God is our God -- or if money is our God. 

Or: 

Can we give up money for our God -- or God for our money? 

This is the gauge, the measuring stick for our leaning. 

-Diary entry of 28 February 2008, 11:10 p.m., Thursday

The waves of blessings

I was standing in the shore of white sand, facing a great blue sea, the Gulf. 

A friend appeared great and huge and was standing left side of me. 

He was holding a wooden staff in his right hand and made a fine, single line of wave through it on the waters. 

The wave he made overtook three consecutive thick waves coming to me in the seashore. 

And the greatest and mightiest wave that seemed to reach the sky was freezing in the sea -- just like waiting for the first waves to reach the shore.

This is a dream. I had it sometime in September 2007. Before this, prophet Don told me to wait for a Divine Visitation from God through dreams, as the Lord had something to let me know of my future. It must be that dream. -Diary entry of June 7, 2008, 1:47 p.m.

Lightning is fire!

Divine Mercy at work by timeliness of photo capture -- T-shirt stripes and skin complexion coincide with rays and altar colors

You dreamed of the Lord Jesus of the Divine Mercy.

Standing in His Greatness before you, He appeared with two rays of light coming from His Heart; but His Hands were outstretched to shock your head with lightning!

This is perplexing.

But in the silence of the heart, I was led to ask you this question: "May we know your most pressing problem by the time you had this dream?"

"It's concerning my lot wherein adjoining neighbors took some portions from," you replied.

And God brought you immediately to a realization, your "Aha!" moment: Your dream is prophetic. It already came to pass and you survived it.

The fire that razed the neighborhood including your house is the "lightning" coming from the Hands of God -- the Divine Justice -- in the light of the Divine Mercy. God is providing a learning experience for the unrepentant and a way out for God's people.

All is back to normal with new houses reconstructed in the fire-devastated neighborhood, including yours; and see if the old practice of stealing slices from your lot is still committed?

"None! Everything's fair after the fire."

(To a church-goer, family man)

The transformation of a bough

In your sleep, you had a dream; a dream which you dreamed many times.

You dreamed the same dream, for the message of the dream, you had not taken hold of as yet.

"Tell me your dream and God will tell you the meaning of your dream."

You saw a bough on the ground. The bough turned into a live serpent which came up slithering around your body. It, then, turned into a kelp.

Silence. The head is emptied. Only the heartbeat is heard. Silence. And the Lord spoke in the spirit.

The "bough" is a good person in your life who is to turn against you (symbolized by a serpent). But, take heart; and never cut loose from this relationship. In the end, this person will return to the self you used to know of, will become gentle and will cease being antagonistic towards you (symbolism of a kelp).

Your spirit, then, is ushered into understanding: "I have a friend who is infatuated with a guy whom she thinks is interested in me and I am interested in as well."

She will eventually know the real score. This realization will lead her from a serpent to a kelp transformation.

Be patient.

(To a young lady-neighbor)

Lost and found

You lost a sacred thing of long ago; but one night, you had a dream. You saw a white something.

Was it a cloud — or a smoke? No human form, it was. And yet, it spoke and it gave something back to you. 

“Friends again?” it said as it returned the thing you lost, the thing that is yours — the rosary of old. And you awoke. 

Was it the Lady — or the Virgin? The “white something” was more of a soul, the soul of somebody who took the thing from you — the mother of mine. 

The rosary? The father of mine. The marriage of yours. 

Many times had you gone to look for it; but many times had you failed. And when you learned to let go, only then that it found you. 

(To stepmother)

Desert Six: A week-old nomad

Should I keep this to myself? But I need to pour out to ease my pain. I am but a week-old nomad -- without a home, without a house. I had slept in a certain chapel for nights; but only this night, a guard took notice. Sleeping, I was told, is prohibited there. I left. Nights before, I slept in the veranda of the abandoned hotel. I never knew a guard was in place, asleep. I noticed only when he woke up. Did he notice me? I never knew but a stone was thrown to my direction. I left again. Last night, I happened to sleep in the sidewalk -- just beside another middle-aged vagabond whose way of living is gathering scraps that he can sell from the garbage. He offered me his bag for pillow and portions of plywood for my mat. One friend treated me with lunch. An avocado tree has been giving me fruits almost every time I pass by it. A fallen avocado is joy to a hungry passer-by. I know in my spirit God will greatly bless the tree, a friend and the fellow nomad. I, too, believe God will return a hundredfold the finances sent in to help carry out this work.