Wish granted: A street youth returns home

Remembering the adversities and circumstances I had gone through due to taking care of the boy in the pad, I no longer see the boy who begs and sleeps in the sidewalk.

But the Lord, along my path, put another boy, a 13-year-old who had run away from home.

From South Davao province, he at age nine was convinced to go with a couple of adult carolers who brought him to Davao City and from Davao City to Ozamis City where he was "adopted" by a Chinese businessman. Frequent scoldings, however, made him decide to escape by bike to return to Davao City.

He showed tenderness towards me; but I knew in my heart this was only because of having missed his home and family.

My physical self wanted him to stay that way -- but I felt the Lord in my heart was wanting to grant the boy the desires of his own heart: to go home once and for all.

And I heard myself muttering the Prayer of Sufferings. 

The friendship started when I gave him organic leaf tablets for cough which I noticed was hard and continuous in him.

The coughing stopped in about five days.

"You certainly missed your family. You want to go home?" I asked him in the vernacular.

"I wish to spend this Christmas with my family," said he after we did laundry and waiting for the clothes to dry up.

"OK, we will go home," I replied.

He had many plans of where to bring me and show me once there. He even told me to stay there for long. We arrived in their place after super typhoon Yolanda wrecked several places and lives -- November 9, Saturday, after a Catholic Fellowship that we attended.

It was like I was watching Wish Ko Lang, a wish-granting TV program on GMA-7 when we got to their place.

His mom embraced him tightly. So, too, his older brothers. Amid tears suppressed.

His younger brother took my right hand and put it on his forehead in a way that I felt in my spirit this was his way of saying "thank you" for bringing his older brother back home.

As neighbors and relatives kept coming to visit and see him in the dead of night, I was in the room they provided for me to sleep the night out. I could hardly sleep though -- so happy for them all on his return after four years. But I felt in my heart he was going to change the next day.

That night, when it was time for him to sleep, he slept beside me.

When he was already asleep, I kissed him goodbye on the forehead because the Lord let me know he was going to change the next day.

The following morning, instead of showing me the best of his place can offer, he wanted to go somewhere without me. At that instance, I expressed to his mother my desire to leave. The mother insisted that I stay for another day to attend her older son's engagement to a would-be wife. This meant feast, their only way to thank me. Out of respect, I nodded. But the boy made a story so his mother agreed for me to leave that very morning.

I left that very morning. And in those days of pain before I recovered, the Prayer of Sufferings was the most distinct prayer that my lips were heard of uttering: "I accept this cross in the Name of Jesus Christ in reparation for all my sins, for the sins of the world, especially the sins of the Archdiocese of Davao."

Yolanda: the dream, the fulfillment and the cause

Days before super typhoon Yolanda struck the Philippines, I dreamed of tornadoes so huge and enormous -- gigantic whirls of wind and waters -- each spinning in different directions that where it passed through were in chaos. I was in the scene and as I saw it coming, feeling the initial wind, I asked the Lord: "Lord, should I let myself be carried away by the wind? Or should I hold on to something?" But a thought came on me: even if I held onto something, everything would be taken away by the wind. End of dream.

Is Yolanda represented by a single tornado I saw in that dream? But I saw like five tornadoes spinning of somewhat same immensity in different places. 

Prayers, coupled with sacrifices, may lessen the gravity of the impact of the catastrophes. But a catastrophe is the result of the sins committed by mankind -- especially, sins against the Holy Eucharist.

God the Father is fully Mercy as He sent His Son Jesus into the sinful world so that by the Sacrifice of His Son on the Cross, mankind is redeemed. By obedience to the Will of God the Father, the Sacrifice of the Son is Very, Very, Very Precious to the Father so that the Father desires that this Sacrifice be remembered often and always, never forgetful of this Act of the Son even a single bit -- thus, the institution of the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist into the Church where the Actual Sacrifice in Calvary is re-lived each time the Mass is officiated. But when this Mercy is ridiculed resulting to "outrages, sacrileges and indifference" to the Sacrifice of the Son remembered daily in the Holy Masses, Divine Justice takes place. Thus, the advent of catastrophes in our midst. Yet, God is still Mercy when He allows these catastrophes to happen: first, He let it be sent slowly to awaken us, escalating it to catch our attention; and if by our stubbornness and pride, we continue these Eucharistic irreverence (to say the least), this means our own perils in this part of the globe greater than what happened to Cebu, Bohol and Tacloban.

Why did these catastrophes happen in other places rather than in our own place? Is it because the people there are more sinful than we are? Far from it. We, actually, sinned the same way they did -- but, in God's Mercy, we, in this place, are given a chance to repent and change our ways especially in the conduct and treatment of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

Be it known that so far God has recognized our progress in bringing back respect, love and worship to the Holy Eucharist, most importantly to the restoration of the Traditional Latin Mass in our region. But its scope is rather limited, hence slow and prolonged in progress as yet awaiting positive response from majority of the faithfuls. To fast-track, certain practices in the Latin Mass liturgy should be introduced already in the New Mass that we are yet adhered to -- like Communion on the tongue in kneeling position on the part of the communicants and giving out Holy Communion only by the hands of the priests.

Be it known also that God is pleased with the return of the Prayer to Saint Michael the Archangel (the Angel under whose protection God has entrusted the Church from infiltration of errors and heresies) recited towards the end of the present Masses as exemplified in San Pedro Cathedral, the Seat of the Archdiocese of Davao. So, too, its present Altar where the Tabernacle is rightfully placed in the center, signifying the centrality of the Holy Eucharist to our Catholic Faith.

God is pleased as well with the Eucharistic Faith that we already possess; but faith, as said, without action is dead. Please refrain from hands-clapping within the duration of the Mass which is not a  "fellowship" as in Protestant gatherings -- but "in remembrance" to the Sacrifice of His Son on the Cross in Calvary. Clasp instead both hands as in praying hands throughout the Mass as a sign of our deep gratitude and respect to the redemptive Sacrifice of Christ on the Cross. Did the Blessed Mother Mary clap her hands before Her Son hanging and dying on the Cross as saying: "Well done, My Son! Well done! You've done a great job!"? But no! She was in tears, feeling the pain endured by the Lord in the silence of Her Immaculate Heart, marveling at the Greatness of God's Mercy and Love towards sinners to reach that loftiness of the decision of the Father and depth of the obedience of the Son!

Similarly, when you elevate slowly the Host during Consecration, all the more you are to be extra careful in bringing It down  as a sign of your faith, love and reverence to the Body of Christ that the White Host has become after Elevation -- instead of plunging It down as if the initial faith that was acted upon is suddenly put to a halt -- lost in oblivion!

Also, since the Holy Mass is simply not a social gathering where we greet a lot of people, please stop incorporating human activities into the Mass proper -- like commencement exercises, graduation rites, award-givings, greetings of birthdays, anniversaries and the likes.

Is Yolanda equivalent to five typhoons combined? This may be the meaning of the dream. Does it mean no more super typhoons in the offing? As already said, catastrophes are the result of the sins committed by mankind against the Holy Eucharist. As this is yet committed over and over again, this kind will still come -- even worse.

Evil dreams are good because it leads to repentance. Thus, we cannot simply rebuke it away to keep the dreams from happening. In fact, dreams of this nature are Divine Gifts, manifesting God's Mercy towards people, warning us of impending catastrophes and giving us a chance to lessen its effect or eradicate these altogether depending on our response.

In these battles, our defense are victim souls who have the burden to pray the Prayer of Repentance and the Prayer of Sufferings (acceptance and living the life of simplicity, for example) in reparation for the Eucharistic sins committed by the local Archdiocese. Hence, we need more victim souls here.

But we do not only defend ourselves, we need also to attack or take offensive action to win these battles. Our offense is in stopping the causes of the catastrophes.

Stop clapping the hands during the Mass; stop giving Communion in the hand; stop laymen and women from touching and giving consecrated Hosts to communicants!!!

One last thing, was Yolanda intended for us in our region? Why, then, did it happen in other place? Let this be left unanswered. But the discerning know the answer.

A soul in need of prayers guides me to his grave

If souls go out their way of the netherworld to ask for prayers from the living, how eager would these souls be once they know of a person who is as eager as to pray for them even without them asking for it?

And how the soul helps you out especially when you, the intercessor, never know what the name of the soul is! 

The soul I wanted to pray for was the soul of the father of a childhood friend. 

But this friend would not give me the name of her father no matter how I insisted. 

It might be because this friend resented over my non-appearance to her father's funeral. 

I was broke at the time, nothing to even buy load for my cellular phone to contact and inform her of the matter. 

I was even too sick to walk my way to the wake. 

Because of this, I never knew the cemetery where the remains of her father was to be buried. 

After burial, I was able to secure some money to contact her and asked for the name of her father -- for prayers! 

But she would not reply pertaining to her father's name. 

I was thinking, she might change religion that never believes in soul-praying. 

Well, enough of speculations! 

The soul would find ways to let me know of its name. 

For, souls are in dire need of prayers. 

Souls even visit the living through dreams to tell of this intercessory need of theirs. 

I left everything to the soul and I let myself forget about it. 

One day, I came to visit my mother's grave. 

After praying for my mother's soul, I decided to do "slow-walking" towards the interior of the cemetery while saying another rosary -- this time, for other souls whose mortal bodies are buried in those grounds. 

Along the way, towards the end of the cemetery, I noticed a freshly-laden grave with the name"Severino" of the family name of my friend inscribed on the marker. 

"Was your father's name Severino?" I asked my friend via text message. 

Her reply was vague. 

A typo error, it could be understood as "no" or "yes" by our dialect. 

But a common neighbor of ours whom I had never seen for years came to our house and I had the chance to ask for the name of the father of our common friend. 

And the reply was: "SEVERINO!"

The boy in the pad

The following entry is recorded in my diary dated June 7, 2008, 1:47 p.m., Saturday:

THE TWO DEVILS

I had another dream... a night dream... and it was very real! In my dream, I was sleeping in my room; and it was relatively very dark. Suddenly, two devils put their weights on me in the middle of my sleep. Hardly could I breathe! I prayed the "Hail Marys" real hard over and over -- until I uttered the prayer in my mouth in reality. I woke up in the darkness of my room... very similar to the situation of my dream. I had this dream in a "bachelor's pad" I had rented from September 2007 to January 2008 before I transferred here in this room. Many things happened in the pad, and I am writing them here.

THE EVIL EYES

There was one incident when I was locking my door to go somewhere, I was aghast to see the face of someone whose eyes were transfixed in the direction of my door. My eyes met his! -- and it was like I saw satan's eyes! I looked down suddenly, I didn't want him see my reaction. He was a man in his early 30's. And he was able to help me before one way or another.

THE KILLINGS ON CHRISTMAS DAY

December 25, two of my nephews were with me in the pad. I had a sudden feeling in the afternoon to take them away from that place the soonest I could. Off we went hurriedly to the nearby market without even looking at anybody we met along the way. An hour and a half after we left, two men in that house were killed! Killed by the man with evil eyes! I returned to my pad the day after. I consoled the family with my presence -- in the wake, in the Mass, and in the burial.

THE PRESENCE OF TWO SOULS

There was an eerie feeling, but I was getting used to it. One night, I woke up in the middle of my sleep and sensed strong in my spirit the presence of two souls standing and staring at me and the boy sleeping in my bed. And the dog that never wailed before, wailed at that moment. I prayed for the souls.

THE BOY IN THE PAD

One of those killed had a son, a four-year-old boy, who lived with me in the pad. This was before the death of his father. Nobody in that house took care of him. In his tender age, he was already a thief in the market and afflicted with sores in his legs. I felt compassion for him -- mercy! I fed him, bathed him and treated his wounds. And the sores healed.

He liked me -- he felt loved. The feeling was mutual because I felt needed, and I was longing for friendships.

His family -- especially, the aunts and the grandpa -- was very jealous of me... except his father.

It was him who prodded the boy to practically live and sleep in my pad -- in my care -- after seeing improvements with his child.

Jealous family attempted several times to take away the feelings of the boy towards me -- but to no avail.

Yet I was hit by millions of arrows of pains and aches right through the center of my heart because of jealousy of the family.

Undoubtedly, it was them whom prophet Don warned me about:"...I see someone who doesn't like you and they are working against you. It's actually the spirit of witchcraft."

But I had a prayer: 

"Lord, let the father of the boy feel the way I feel for his son; and let the feelings of the boy towards me be transferred to his own father."

I came to a point when I decided to stop all this in respect to his jealous family. 

The father pleaded with me through his girlfriend [to continue taking care of his son], but I was already firm. 

When the father realized that his son was able to sleep outside my door in the darkness of the alley one night after many pleadings of the boy to enter, he was moved to pity for his son. 

And that started the answer to my prayer. 

The following day, the father was a changed man. 

He took care of his own son -- bathing, feeding, guarding, going out and eating out with him. 

All of a sudden, the boy distanced himself from me. It hurt me deep in my spirit. 

That was why I took home with me my two nephews on Christmas day. I was very lonely. I could hardly hide it so that the family was rejoicing over what happened to me. 

THE FALLING BOY

December 31, 2007. After burial, I had a dream in my afternoon sleep -- this time, concerning "a boy in the pad."

It was so VERY real that I decided to transfer residence as soon as possible.

And I found this room I have rented since January this year.

It was an abrupt decision; I never wanted to see the dream happen. And who will want to see it happen?

The vision suggests it is to happen in that place.

This dream was short and sudden -- like injecting itself from nowhere into the void of my sleeping imagination.

Shouting at the top of his voice, a boy was in the act of falling! His eyes were looking downward -- in great fear and panic.

I was in great fear and panic as I was watching the vision.

I woke up suddenly.

THE FATHER OF THE BOY

Let me tell you something about the father of the boy.

He, too, was very difficult to deal with. I stopped delivering native snack food to his store because he would say he already paid me such and such deliveries which actually he did not pay.

I kept offering to God for him those sacrifices.

I felt bitter, but I felt more compassion for the man.

From my place, during the night when he was usually drunk, I could hear practically all his sentiments towards his family.

He had no room of his own. He slept outside -- in the makeshift store attached to the house of his father.

My prayers were incessant. Tears were even on my cheeks.

Because I knew God looked so kindly on that man, for God came for the likes of him into this world -- but I am worst.

A drunkard, he was also a "call boy."

I even heard him say he was a "thorn in the throat of his family."

Many prayers and sacrifices passed.

Then came a time when his own father granted him a room in the house.

I was very happy.

And I was happier when I came to know this: he asked for forgiveness for the kind of life he lived before the tomb of his mother on Christmas day -- morning.

And in the afternoon, he was killed.

THE SMELL OF PAINT

On my last day at the pad, I suddenly smelled a paint. A paint used to paint a coffin?

When I came to remember the man, my plugged electric fan, all of a sudden, stopped rotating.

I knew it was the soul of his -- in the midst of me.

I prayed and prayed for the soul -- until the smell vanished and the fan resumed.

Was it thanking me for everything?

I thank You, Lord Jesus, for everything.

[The blogger's note: The boy is now nine years old and is already in the custody of his biological mother in South Davao province. The vision never happened. Prayers may have prevented it while prayers are still on-going for the soul of his father in purgatory. The killer, a constant butt of jokes and a bullying underdog of his victims, is serving his sentence in the Davao Penal Colony reduced only to a few years for pleading guilty of the crimes he committed.]

Theft in the sidewalk

My pocket "point-and-shoot" camera and a pair of slippers were stolen! In the tiredness of my body for incessant walking Friday last week, I stopped in Claveria to take a rest in the sidewalk before I could go on to a government hospital to sleep in its compound where it is safe; but I found out later at dawn, I slept the whole night in Claveria and was a victim of theft. In my life as homeless in the vicinity of the hospital, I have met a nine-year-old boy who is fond of collecting cartons, plastic bottles and cans and his young mother who likes to put on make-up at night. They sleep at daytime at DMC hospital and are busy at night in Claveria: the boy, a beggar; the mother, a prosti. Not all seen about the hospital building have patients; a few are homeless persons trying to take shelter in and to say they have patients is to save them from the shame of being known of having no homes. But a homeless can detect one who is also homeless. And when they come to know other homeless individuals, they are happy they are not alone. My friendship with the boy began in the steel swing where I frequent myself every morning and ask him to join me in the swinging. This connection transitioned gradually into like a deeper friendship as truth of our existence gradually emerges as well. I had the chance to ask him why he likes me: "Kay gusto man kog amigo." (Because I need a friend.) Why me? "Kay wala man kay balay." (Because you are homeless.) At first, he said they have a patient admitted in the hospital; but later, I had doubts because his conversations were different every time I asked him about the patient. My feeling was supported as true when, one evening on my way to downtown, I caught him in the sidewalk in Claveria with his blanket on ready to sleep. When I revealed I too am homeless, he is connected to me like my own shadow, asking me to go to Claveria every night where he begs and sleeps. Friday last week, on my way back to the hospital walking from downtown via Claveria, somebody was following me and calling my attention: the boy! I was already very tired of incessant walking all day because earlier I went to the feast of San Francisco de Asis in Tagakpan. I promised him I would bring them "lechon." But something went wrong. I returned the rice and lechon I "sacked" for the boy and his mom. I never ate my share in the feast to be able to "sack" my share for the boy and his mom. But a man from the church rebuked me upon exiting: "Welcome mo diri para mamiyesta pero sa sunod ayaw mo pag-sacking og pagkaon para makakaon ang uban." (You are welcome here to feast but do not sack food next time so other visitors can eat as well.)  I returned the food. And I had to go to the nearby Pantatan (Catfish) Festival in Tugbok where everyone could have a share of one grilled catfish and rice. I was happy to have something to give to the boy and the woman for dinner because they eat only once a day. I rested in the sidewalk with the boy that Friday night but was able to sleep the whole night unknowingly while his mom was on her particular trade that evening. It does not matter if my camera and slippers were stolen; what matters is the friendship that I have found in the person of this youth.

Explosion at the park

The dream is in the night. I saw men in black fitting suits rappelling in a certain structure -- the structure looked familiar. By their actions and movements, these men looked like experts. They seemed to be well-trained "soldiers." I was below this structure looking at their adeptness. Next scene: I saw myself standing in the center of the pavement -- a spacious pavement and it looked familiar even though the landmarks were excluded in this scene. All of a sudden, below the place I was standing on, something blew up. It seemed to be a bomb. I was alive and still standing; but those around me fell dead. I only felt the wind of the explosion under my feet. I woke up and I remember this verse: "A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand; but nothing shall befall you." -Psalm 91:7. The structure seemed to be the current appearance of the stage; the pavement, the park. May the reader understand.

The needs of the blog ministry

This blog was out of touch for over three weeks since my last blog entry pending financial constraints facing this blog ministry. Updating the blog means money as I have to pay the internet cafe for time used in the computer to blog -- as I am doing right now. I have learned to beg not only for food but also for some money -- for this blog; I just ask for money but I never told where to use the money for. Aside from asking for meals from a certain monastery, I went overboard so as to ask for goods as rice, noodles and sardines that I can sell. I also asked a certain young pastor, a non-Catholic minister, for some help; and I was given a twenty-peso bill! Along with the poor, I line myself beside the City Hall to avail of a weekly government subsidy of a kilo of rice, a pack of noodles, a can of sardines -- and Php20! The goods are then sold cheap so to be able to update this blog. Other financial needs are as follows: Php2,000 debt for a "third-hand" point-and-shoot camera that I have acquired since the start of this blog; an acquisition of a "second-hand" DSLR camera although this is not immediate but surely a need for this ministry.

"As for me, miserable and poor, the Lord thinks of me. You are my help and my deliverer; O my God, do not delay." -Psalm 40:17

 

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.

Desert Five: The other Joseph the dreamer

 

I am alien to my own family, my own brethren, my own flesh and blood.

I leave.  

I hide. 

They persecute me for no reason at all. 

And they have all the reasons to hate me. 

One nearly crippled my right knee -- out of jealousy! 

I have kept a distance. 

A safer distance. 

"For my love, they are my adversaries." 

I run away from house when the world is an enemy. 

For, they side with those who disagree with me. 

Tearing more the wounds. 

Never to heal. 

A family is hardly a refuge in time of adversities. 

It's safe to be alone. 

Safest to suffer alone. 

"My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" 

Father and Mother had loved me. 

But both are now past earth-life. 

Jealousy! 

Envy! 

These rule the hearts! 

Why, O God, why? 

Simply because I was loved more? 

Is it my fault? 

Were my parents to blame? 

Or: was it Divine Grace to be favored that much? 

And, no matter how parents tried to make it secret, still would it make manifest. 

The other Joseph the Dreamer? 

Dreams in my sleep that I dream: dreams that came to pass and dreams that are about to come to pass. 

A dreamer of prophecies? 

Or: a prophet of dreams? 

But, God, You know better than I.