Staying my eyes on the Lord.

The clock is steady ticking, the days are fast on the run. But, some moments, I feel like I am slacking. My poor, overwhelmed, and weary little soul desires a stroke of motivation, a little touch of affirmation and prodding in the right direction.

It gets really hard to live faithfully as a christian in a world saturated with mundane ideologies, aesthetic glorification, and material adoration. Everyone wears their suitable facade, and relationships have become very superficial. My best attempt at making a head way out of this maze; a solution to this puzzle, has been like a long swim in an ocean against heavy tides and currents to reach shores which are only a mirage to my squinting eyes.

I once breezed the thought of branding myself an astute and street smart christian. The kind of God's man who is not oblivious of the evil that exists behind the dark alleys and bushes; but rather consciously chooses to set boundaries, and walk in the ambiance of the bright street lights within pleasant lawns and meadows.

Now, it seems as if there is an aberration that exists along the boundary line between the bushes and the meadows; there is a distortion in perception of light and dark; truth now has become relative. And my weary soul is sent even into a state of more confusion.

What do I do when the walks in the once brightly lit meadows aren't as calm and pleasant as they used to be; or when the mild flowers that colored the long distance have been replaced with harsh thorns dangling from forest weed now scattered over once neatly paved footpaths?

Which direction do I turn when the clamors and screeches from the dark alleys begin to sound like an alluring and gratifying lullaby?

The days when I feel like I am slipping.

But through my frequent moments of struggle, I have also come to know that sometimes the better part of a prayer is in the action that follows; the little magic moments we might birth when we move in steady steps of faith to arrive in the presence of fate.

And so, perhaps, these I need to do: to move in these steady little steps of faith. And while moving, keep my eyes stayed upon the Lord and in His word - that my weary and overwhelmed soul may find peace and content in this troubled and confused world.

two years, twenty minutes.

It had been two years since I last saw her.
and in the two years that had passed,
a lot had happened.

But tonight, her presence became my mirror.

and the reflection I saw
reminded me much of the man
I so wanted to be for her
the super kind of man
a spark of her thought
birthed from within me,
the days when we still played prince and princess.

...and even though, tonight, it was she
who now seemed more like the super woman,
and her touch didn't quite now
feel much like that of my estranged princess

yet, her mere presence
was enough to set me back on track...
in the fleeting twenty minutes we spent
walking up the curb.

I like pretty little things
Like little damsels in pink dresses
Clutching tiny fingers in my huge palm

Like pretty smiles from strange faces
On a hot summer day
Going out of their way just to say hey

And I like pretty little things
Like cupcakes and fritas,
Peanuts and raisins

And the magic from that show
That makes you see a babbling baby
And just want to give a huge XO XO.

Reaching the End

...So take the hundred mile lead,
Run as fast as you wish,
But get rest when you can.
For when you arrive at the finish line,
It won’t be too long
After you look right beside
That there was a weary journeyed man
Trotting with arms and feet in tandem
Along the troubled high way;
Who walked with a steady pace
To claim the very same prize
Awaiting everyone
Who dared
To reach the end.

Integrity...

I once read somewhere that integrity meant being the same person in any environment or situation one might be in, being the same man in the light or in the dark.

There have been times when I think that I speak a little too much, and other times when I clutch on to the silence I hold, and utter little words of response in a conversation. But in all, I try to tell it like it is, and tell it all, so I do not have to struggle to recall the fine details of any conversation had for fear that when it came up again I might misquote facts. And some day in the future when I do get called to duty, be it in the late hours of the night, thousands of miles away, I will leave a rested wife at home who could share the details of my weekly schedule to her colleagues at work, knowing that when it was time to return, I would be coming back home almost like I hadn’t left.

Yesterday I bumped into an old acquaintance in town, on my way back from the supermarket, and we got talking by the curb on the roadside, right underneath the white streetlight. We shared stories of men who had set out on a journey far away from home for greener pastures, and all of the struggles they faced on daily basis: the stress of acculturation, the dilemmas of culture shocks, the long days and nights of feeling alone and longing for family, and being broke with all of the vulnerabilities it brought.

Usually, I would think that I was having a rough time having been away in JA for four years working on getting my degree. Well, actually I do. And as a student, I have my many broke days. But it is in these broke and difficult days that, somehow, I manage to stand at the tip of my wit, and come alive with a sense of creativity and productivity. And even though the days get really hard, I do get by with a smile on my face, enough to infect others with.

But this friend of mine had had it rough the past two weeks. He was evicted out of his house for having no money to pay rent; slept on the streets-at the court house to be precise. In his own words, “the worst part about being homeless is not knowing where to sleep when night falls upon you, and wearing dirty socks that become so dingy you can’t even find a place to wash. It starts to eat on the skin of your toes…” His story made mine seem like I was royalty, and somehow I found myself masking some of the details of mine just to match his. I couldn’t help but share the little money I had on me. My heart went to him, to his humility. He reminded me, again, why I needed to be humble and grateful, even for the little things- like being able to wash my socks whenever I chose.

I have my daily struggles, some like when I pray to the Lord to wean me off my constant need for self; for approval and affirmation from these lost crowd; to wean me off the need to constantly have something to prove, and grant me the grace to be truly humble.

Today, everywhere, it seems like a world of pretty facades and rotten cores. And it seems like sometimes these situations fall upon us helplessly. But It would add more meaning to the word integrity when people, even from state podiums and religious altars really practice what they preach and begin truly to see a brother’s need without turning a blind eye.

O dreams (II)

Last night was beautiful in an unusual way. Imagine trying to get a girl to go out on a date with you for the past 17 months, but each time she found a wry way of turning you down, and also managed constantly to evade your advances. She would miss calls, and not return texts. Imagine most of these actions to be intentional, but for some reason you refuse to let go. Perhaps there was something that you saw etched deep down within her core; something you still see, that you find so very rare and odd in the environment you live in.

But somehow, just like in the fairy stories, your wish was granted. It did not come with the kind of fervor you had deemed, were it those first few weeks when your heart still pumped with crimsoned infatuation running through your veins. Not that your liking for her had waned in any way, but with the time that had passed, you have come to search yourself, and have found a steady flow of likeness that rests within.

Her original plan was to take her nephew to see a movie at the cinema - a movie you would normally not pay a cent to watch, let alone spend precious minutes sitting in front of a screen. In your mind, these kind of movies were for kids and their ‘trying to be a good’ dads, and not for grown men who were plagued with a busy schedule and piles of work to do. Yet you knew that when she acquiesced to your coming along, it was an opportunity that needed not to be missed, despite the drizzling rain outside the door. This was something you had waited long for - however long.

And to your utmost amazement, the movie turned out to be really brilliant, and made the entire evening even more pleasurable than you had totally imagined. You wished you had done this sooner. The look on her face said the same, or so you’d like to think.

But then, just as you were going to turn to say thank you, and leave her with a gentle kiss, there’s a ring on your alarm, waking you up to the realization that it had all been a dream. A dream you now wish even more that it would be real. It is 6:00 a.m, and it is back to your busy day.

And so my day went.

Tonight I’m going to bed glad, hoping to dream again. And in this dream I hope that in a couple of days we would get to hang out again. This time, that it will be at her home, where I would finally get to meet with Ana, my little vicarious friend who also happens to be her niece.

Who knows when these dreams just might begin to come true. You've got to keep dreaming.