Here's the news, "Manila Archbishop Gaudencio Rosales on Thursday called on the faithful to stop the Oratio Imperata Ad Petendam Pluviam or the prayer to request for rain."
When the faithful stormed the heavens with prayer for rain, the heavens literally retaliated with storms- sending more rains and strong winds than what we could ask for. In a couple of days, we were lashed by typhoons Chedeng, Dodong and Egay.
Continuous rains translated to floods last Wednesday. It caused horrendous traffic. To make it more awful, DepEd suspended classes around 8:30 a.m. when most of the students were already in school. DepEd can sometimes be very much like the cops in Pinoy movies. They come to rescue only at the tail end of the show. Anyway, the Department did their job better the succeeding days with earlier announcements of class suspension.
Out of personal interest, I savored the suspension of classes to visit the gym for fitness program and to join aeroboxing and belly dancing. This may be fun but too shallow when I give a thought to those being evacuated from their homes due to flooded areas.
The recent storms caused devastation of crops, landslides and loss of livelihood for fisher folks and farmers. For this reason, we can't be completely joyful. Nonetheless, we give thanks for casting out a total drought in the country.
These rains were proofs that we have a living God who would readily listen to our collective prayers and who would command the winds and the seas, at His obedience. Perhaps in the future, we may better be specific in our prayers of how much rain each city and province can tolerate per day. ;-)
I won’t ask the rain to go away as kids would usually sing it since the dry spell in portions of Luzon is still not over but I wish it would come again another day- when we are more willing to lend a hand to typhoon victims and when our country will be more than ready to brace for strong rains.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Joy Ride
I wanted to go to St. Clare Monastery in Katipunan, Q.C. I didn’t know how to get there so my mother agreed to accompany me last Saturday (which I learned, coincidentally, was St. Clare's feast day). We didn’t push through though since she said we weren’t prepared to go –not without dozens of eggs that we would normally offer. I was bent to go that Sunday with or without chicken lays after all I have contracted someone to drive me. Sad thing was, that early morning, I could hardly move my body after a workout the previous day.
By some stroke of luck, I was able to go to St. Clare in the afternoon taking the LRT and a short cab ride with my Aunt Mel and my nephew, Ainon. The last time I was there was in my teens with another aunt and my cousin who was diagnosed with a scoliosis and was told to be needing a medical operation. She was young then and it was quite abrupt to correct that curve under a knife. Heavens answered the prayers for her healing with some help from the monks in the monastery.
When I arrived, I made petitions in two small papers. Then while having the eucharistic celebration, the thought of so many parents seeking help surged - single/guilty working moms, battered mothers, parents with disrespectful children, parents with ill kids, desperate OFW husband with cyberspace hooked wife and the rest who opt to suffer silently. I went back to the basement and wrote a longer petition (read: 10 font size in single space, crosswise paper) beating the three-minute closing time. I quickly wrote all the names I could think of including their families and their wishes.
Going home was a thrill. I asked the MMDA in their aquarium-like office on how to get to LRT and she directed me to cross the street and assuringly said that a few steps will get me there. I was spellbound to realize how easy it was to get to the monastery all along. LRT, on a weekend, was a respite of sort as there were few commuters around. It was such a great trip I knew could go there more frequently with eggs next time.
The trip was a breeze with an interesting tale to tell. I caught sight of a disconcerted grandmother who seemed to have run out of patience for her grandchild who was restlessly wiping up and down the windowpane while the train was in motion. It reminded me of one ride home when a child in school uniform was endlessly narrating stories to her mother and I was quite displeased to see that her mother looked half asleep and not responding to her child bursting with energy. The child just didn't stop talking about her day and her old teacher. Until finally, the mother could probably no longer suppress her emotions and twitched a smile that revealed (vamp bite looking) fangs. That's why she was not reacting to her child at all. Of course, I pretended not to see. ;0) My disappointment to the mother turned out to be a comic relief!
There is absolutely a joy in any winding road. On a hassle-free day, one gets to see that every ride is worth a story and every single trip can be fun.
By some stroke of luck, I was able to go to St. Clare in the afternoon taking the LRT and a short cab ride with my Aunt Mel and my nephew, Ainon. The last time I was there was in my teens with another aunt and my cousin who was diagnosed with a scoliosis and was told to be needing a medical operation. She was young then and it was quite abrupt to correct that curve under a knife. Heavens answered the prayers for her healing with some help from the monks in the monastery.
When I arrived, I made petitions in two small papers. Then while having the eucharistic celebration, the thought of so many parents seeking help surged - single/guilty working moms, battered mothers, parents with disrespectful children, parents with ill kids, desperate OFW husband with cyberspace hooked wife and the rest who opt to suffer silently. I went back to the basement and wrote a longer petition (read: 10 font size in single space, crosswise paper) beating the three-minute closing time. I quickly wrote all the names I could think of including their families and their wishes.
Going home was a thrill. I asked the MMDA in their aquarium-like office on how to get to LRT and she directed me to cross the street and assuringly said that a few steps will get me there. I was spellbound to realize how easy it was to get to the monastery all along. LRT, on a weekend, was a respite of sort as there were few commuters around. It was such a great trip I knew could go there more frequently with eggs next time.
The trip was a breeze with an interesting tale to tell. I caught sight of a disconcerted grandmother who seemed to have run out of patience for her grandchild who was restlessly wiping up and down the windowpane while the train was in motion. It reminded me of one ride home when a child in school uniform was endlessly narrating stories to her mother and I was quite displeased to see that her mother looked half asleep and not responding to her child bursting with energy. The child just didn't stop talking about her day and her old teacher. Until finally, the mother could probably no longer suppress her emotions and twitched a smile that revealed (vamp bite looking) fangs. That's why she was not reacting to her child at all. Of course, I pretended not to see. ;0) My disappointment to the mother turned out to be a comic relief!
There is absolutely a joy in any winding road. On a hassle-free day, one gets to see that every ride is worth a story and every single trip can be fun.
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