Where Art Thou?

The clock is ticking for this month... should I also say, for this year. As  much as I want to write, words seem too shy to come out. My mind is full, but the form doesn't want to be drawn. My drafts have been waiting [like forever] for the blogger's strike of pen once again.


Words, where art thou?


I will be trekking the mountains soon and will be leaving again the pen behind. Maybe inspiration will come from there... out from the mountains, on top of the terraces, in between the leaves. 


Words, where art thou?


Please do come to me quickly. You are missed.

I Am Joy

I am called Joy by a very few.


If I was christened with that nickname, I do not know. I just remember seeing the 3-letter word not so much around the house and on not so many letters & notes I have received with "To: Joy", sometimes "Dear Joy". I did not grow up hearing that name most of my years either. But, if out of nowhere I hear that name, I will respond and look around because I know


I am Joy.


To date, it is the unpopular name of mine. It is barely known. It is hardly missed. But I still own it and I love it.


I am Joy.


To be called Joy again or not anymore is not my paramount melancholic, nostalgic sentiment right now. I own it by heart and simply want to live up the name. And with that, joy did not fail me. 

This joy has many faces.

It springs up from inside-out awareness, 

communicates in silence or in audible utterances, 

projects in statics or sometimes in dances, 

speaks in smiles or in expressive body languages,

at times when I am at my highest or even at my lowest.

Calling someone Joy can just be a blurt. But living with, and living the joy is not just difficult --- it is IMPOSSIBLE in this fallen, broken world where hurts, sufferings, and pains consistently strike and are undeniably real. We have our own share of despair, so we know how it feels and how this world operates, and how joy can sometimes be a scarce staple commodity.


When 'weights' seem heavier than the usual, a simple joy can be an understatement. The inspiration of the Lord makes it real, makes it alive, makes it powerful, makes it complete.

The joy of the Lord is what it really is.

Joy I maybe called, but man, I can't manufacture joy --- it will surely alter or fail. It is the Lord who gives and makes it grow in me. It is not from me, it is from Him. It is not a result of my doing, but the fruit of His being. It is not of the flesh, but of the Spirit. The common joy can sometimes be just a facade, but the joy of the Lord comes genuine, in and out.

I don't want to settle to be Joy by calling, but to the utmost, be Joy by living. 

The world has done so much in its power to steal joy away from every heart. A consistent tug-of-war has it been. It is hard to be caught by the world's schemes & treachery, but the Lord has promised a sweet and joyous victory, that we can wear the sweetest smile at the end of every journey.  :)  :)  :)

If I was christened with that nickname, I STILL do not know. But, if out of nowhere I hear that name, I will STILL respond and look around because I know

I am Joy,


because the joy of the Lord has helped me live it, and it will always be so.

Waiting Lists

I never thought these past two weeks would get me crazy busy. But thank you, dear Lord for still sparing my sanity. :) I am just anticipating to get my 3 posts done and ready. Oh, if I could just drop all these off, rest, and then write again.


Just for a brush start, and at least to encourage myself about my 3 drafts: 

• Posts' titles = done.
• Unpenned thoughts = done.
• First sentence = done.
• The rest? = undone. :D

I 'hope' next week would be a good writing week. :)

The Brighter Side of Weariness

I cried myself to sleep a few nights ago. 


I realized I did so when I woke up the following day. It was nothing, I was just tired.


Really, I was just soo tired. So tired that my tear glands seemed to get activated too much, swelled up and flooded my eyes with tears.


Sometimes, it is hard, or not even close to possibly believe that one can shed tears even without any intense feelings or emotions... either a jubilant high or a depressing low. It is hard to put in to words, at least to explain how does that happen, but I know it. I just know it. My overtaxed strength formed the tears.


When we are tired, used up, exhausted, or whatever you may call it, we tend to be irritated, project what we feel towards others, shout, whine, play the blame-game, and the like. You know it. I know it. All of us have been there. 


But coming to terms with life this far (not so far yet) helped me see things, see weariness in a different side, the brighter side.


Can anything good come out from weariness? To this, I say, yes. :)


I maybe tired but comfort comes with the thought that it is for a cause and it brought results. It may mean expectations have been met, made somebody smile, feel valued & loved, plans worked, etc. --- for a cause of different sorts, not a by-product of idleness.


I remember someone told me to choose wisely where to direct or gear up energy --- and not to thoughtlessly give everybody a piece of you, or a slice of your strength to numerous, little 'unnecessaries'. Not to say that other people/things aren't important, but it goes to point that in reality, some people/things just want to take, sap, drain up your strength and leave you weary. 


But the greatest comfort comes from the Lord who knows each stage of our weariness. He has the perfect cure and knows how to recharge us. In His power words:

• "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." Psalm 73:26 (NIV)

• "The Sovereign LORD is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights." Habakkuk 3:19 (NIV)

• "Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40: 30-31 (NIV) 

And from Chuck Swindoll's 'Antidote for Weariness':

But let's understand that God does not dispense strength and encouragement like a druggist fills your prescription. The Lord doesn't promise to give us something to take so we can handle our weary moments. He promises us Himself. That is all. And that is enough.

In times when strength seemed to wave good-bye, let us be comforted with the truth that renewed strength has just come shining brighter through the window. The Lord Himself is our strength.


So, I say, the weary can wear a thousand smiles or more even after the tears. 

Random Thoughts

I tried to recall these spur of the moment thoughts that's been running through my head this week. It was challenging to recall each one, but it was a good try. :)

1. ... will resume jogging next week. I really love to jog, but the thing is, I am already slim. Would it do me good or bad? Whatever. I will still jog. Rubbers on! :)
2. ... got a cool nugget thought from a colleague: Laugh now, cry later.
3. ... excited for a new post running through my head since last night: "A Glory That Is Not".
4. ... on a final countdown: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!
5. ... nostalgic about beauty for ashes.
6. ... will be on a sound of silence mode.
7. ... wants to cut her hair 'short'.
8. ... was so thrilled in finding people I know in FB... not my friends --- but my Mom's.
9. ... thinking of a surprise. For whom? when? where? what? *secret*
10. ... says, 'yes'.

Lower the Mat

"One, two, three, down!"


This must have been the words of the 4 men found in this passage:

 MARK 2 (NIV1984) Emphasis, mine
 ¹ A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. ² So many gathered that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and he preached the word to them. ³ Some men came, bringing to him a paralytic, carried by FOUR OF THEM. ⁴ Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus and, after digging through it, LOWERED THE MAT the paralyzed man was lying on. ⁵ When Jesus saw THEIR FAITH, he said to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” 

Lower the mat.
"One, two, three, down!"


*  *  *  *  *


Just for a brief background, the Book of Mark portrays Jesus Christ as the Servant of God, and was written for Roman readers. The object in writing is to clearly tell certain facts about Jesus' deeds. This book was the first gospel written, in print, among the other 3 gospels, Matthew, Luke and John.


This account can also be found in Matthew 9:1-8 and Luke 5:17-26.


*  *  *  *  *


This account established the truth that it is Jesus' heart to heal. It is no question. It helped me have a firmer grasp of who Jesus is in this area. He is the Author and Healer of life and wants no other thing but to see His people have it and live it to the fullest. As a matter of fact, reading through, this account was 'sandwiched' by other different healing accounts ...


BEFORE. A man possessed by an evil spirit, Simon's mother-in-law, all the other sick and demon-possessed, a man with leprosy.


and AFTER. A dead girl, a sick woman, the blind, the mute, and the rest of the gospels tell more.


What an amazing, healing God!


Focusing the lens onto Jesus, I resonated on this: Compassion drives Jesus, but lack of faith, shuts him off. 


Lack of faith? It is a so-major-TURN OFF. It won't work. It is only by faith can we ever please God. That is why, no wonder, the entire Bible told, exhorted, taught so much about this word called F-A-I-T-H. Old and New Testament, in and out. Take your pick.


Lower the mat.
"One, two, three, down!" 


is the evident, active expression of faith of these 4 men, carrying the mat, and even by the paralytic himself. I believe that those men won't be carrying him (the paralytic) through the rooftops without his consent. Yes, he maybe paralyzed, but still he has a say as to what to do or not what to do with him. At least, to the carrying thing, they must agree.


They knew they can't just sit or stand still. They needed to do something. It was their faith --- active faith that stirred, moved, compelled and constrained them to do something to get into the feet of their Object of faith, Jesus.


"We just need you to get in there. By all means!"
For them, it is through the rooftop. They took the journey little by little by lowering the mat.


When Jesus saw their faith, THEIR FAITH. I needed to pause. THEIR FAITH. 


Got it? It is one thing to have faith, but to have others journey alongside with you, having the same faith is another.


Not just the faith of one man, but also the faith of the other men touched Jesus' heart.


Where there is faith, forgiveness and healing flourish.


The paralytic man got up, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all. This amazed everyone and they praised God, (v.12a)


The Lord be praised, indeed.


*  *  *  *  *


To my friend "M", what you're going through now is a not so easy thing. The past few weeks must have been much of sleepless nights lying on your mat. I am willing to carry and lower your mat at Jesus' feet. I will journey alongside with you and your faith. Listen as I count with the others,


"One, two, three, down."


We are not just 4... there are many others with me by the way.

Strikes for Streaks

This will all be pictures, I am telling you. So I am going to understand if you will just close the window and not look through. It is okay. But to those who will not, this is just a sort of history or evolution of my blog header, that you now see (way up)... as of today.

Note: This post is timeless. This will be updated from time to time as often as the blog header changes. :)

More there is to come --- maybe. :)

Simply O.C.

O. C.
Yes, you read it right. O. C.
People think I am, and I think so, too.


They say it is a disorder. But I claim the opposite thought. :)


Endless thinking, editing, posting, removing pictures and changing layouts for my blog got me hooked for the past days. The cycle goes on and on and on. I ended getting mad at myself: "When will I ever stop? When will I ever get satisfied with how my blog looks like?"


I just want it to appear simple, but nice.


Grrr. What's with me?
Comforting myself, I know I am having my moments again... my O. C. moments. But this one has to stop. It is time to be kind to myself. Okay. Fine. It is alright. So now, I 'think' I am done with the blog layout. This is final. I hope. :)


Since I already brought this one up, journey with some of my "O. C.-ness":

• I am a straight line fanatic --- die hard. So I bring a ruler with me. All the time. Can't live without it. Drawing lines, bars, graphs at school, at work and "church" is heaven if ruler comes in handy. I get so irritated if I don't do it straight. By whatever means... I have to get it straight.
• Are the books on my shelf arranged by height? by size? There you have it. I will not dare miss a centimeter.
• Clothesline. After a fulfilling laundry time, seeing my clothes hanged by color make it sweeter. All the reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, together. Rainbow bright! :)
• I always rearrange my room. I keep on moving things around... every other week. But if I am at the peak, I do it every week.
• And the list goes on... some things I find very minute and unnecessary. Needless to say.

But, there's a catch. As human as I am, I have not also been a full-pledged O. C. I mess up at times. So there's really nothing to boast. The O. C. level varies with my 'hormones'... if it has really something to do with that. But if I mess up, I know something is wrong, and am burdened to put it right. It's hard sometimes, seeing that I walk through extremes.

It just makes me smile to think that this O. C. lady is accepted and embraced by the ONE who created her. HE cheered me at my best O. C. days, and stood by me at my worst messed up days. But I am so secured with the fact that HE loves me despite of the extremes. Oh, my, HE bore so much of me already. HE's just too patient. 

The bottom line is this, changing things will never stop. We will always see something new to change each day. It means that things can always be done better, finer, brighter, and all the other 'ERs' we can possibly think of. At least it is a good mark of not settling for anything less, a mark of upholding perfection and excellence in progress.


By the way, I am not the only O. C. in existence. There are lots out there... walking around.


Oh, see? :)

6 Squeezed in 2

How do you write about something indescribable?
How do you blog your thoughts when 'words aren't just enough'?
How do you compress a length of time that took years then write about it?


No need to answer. It's just me talking to myself. :)


Just a few hours from now, my sister will be taking the licensure examination for Civil Engineers. This is it. Soon she will be sitting in a chair that would house her for 2 days as she pours out what the course would demand from her:


speed,
accuracy,
mastery,
sharp memory,


to name a few.


And not discounting the incalculable sacrifices invested into this...


time,
money,
energy,
sleepless nights,
limited social life.


6 YEARS OF STUDY
SQUEEZED IN 2 DAYS (How can that be?)
then --- charan! there you have a CIVIL ENGINEER!


Karen: "Ate, wala nang atrasan 'to."


Shine on, Karen. The Lord who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it. He is with you and will never leave you. 


And I will always be here to clap for you. :)

A Boy Named Jim

We were clueless of his visit. No herald was sent. None of us stood at the gate to meet ahead

A boy named Jim.

He just came softly in the office, as he held hands with a social worker one quiet midday. I stopped typing. I stopped working as I tried to gaze at his face. When I saw him, it dawned to me, 'I know those eyes'. It belonged to

A boy named Jim.

It was the story of this young boy that has tear-filled the eyes, swept off the feet, stirred & moved the hearts of the urban crowd. Now, just within an arm's reach here stands precious Jim. I wonder what he is thinking and feeling with a few people around intently looking at him.

* * * * *

Born in a garbage dump. Abandoned by his mother.

Left with his father, who also abandoned him later.

Picked up by a neighbor-turned-proud-babysitter

Saying I'll take care of him, but I needed to be paid, remember.

Cigarette burns, skin irritations and malnutrition,

the boy suffered more, these are but a few of his condition.

Tears and blood flow from his eye that was pierced.

I imagine how he must have cried! That's just too fierce!

* * * * *

And the Lord came to the rescue. The Father to the fatherless. The Strength of the weak. A Refuge for the oppressed, the One who heard the cries and saw the pain and fears of

A boy named Jim.

Jim was finally taken out from the dump, sent to rehabilitation and will be opened for adoption. 


He has gained weight, can now stand & walk on his own but loses balance at times. Though you can still see marks of the painful past he had endured, his face shines and glows like no other, as if saying, 

"Look at what my Lord, my Father has done for me!" 

We were silenced in his presence, taking captive every thought of how the Lord loved and cared for the boy. It was a kairos moment. 


We saw little Jim smiled. We smiled, holding back our tears.


Jim waved us good-bye as he exits to meet our other colleagues. Having a heartfelt meeting with Jim again needs a point of release. As for me, I just have written a brief blog that I can go back and read any time entitled,

A BOY NAMED JIM.

The Grace to Stay & the Grace to Go

Last night, while thinking on a sleepless bed, I plainly said,

"Lord, I am afraid."

That was all I have to say to the One who sees me behind closed doors. When everything has been said & done, come & gone, it has always been Him. Always have, always will. Many or few are the words, I know He listens. That's my perpetual assurance.


To face and stand in a major road fork will really cause you to call out to the heavens. But the kind of fear that goes with it is just goes to acknowledge and prove that we can't do anything without God. I desire to fulfill God's purposes for me, nothing more, nothing less.


Stay ashore, or go and set the sail?

THE GRACE TO STAY

"If your Presence does not go with [me], do not send [me] up from here." Exodus 33:15, personalized

Aware of what's  happening, the Lord met me where I was. He knows well that that kind of crossroad scares me. But comforted me yet again of the His grace. I was silenced. 


THE GRACE TO GO

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior." Isaiah 43:2-3 (NIV1984)

I know the Lord will just ask one thing of me,

"Trust Me."

The Lord speaks, doesn't He? He has His own ways of making His voice heard. Then I was gradually led to this poem, penned by an anonymous author:

** THE WILL OF GOD **

The will of God will never take you,

Where the grace of God cannot keep you.

Where the arms of God cannot support you,

Where the riches of God cannot supply your needs,

Where the power of God cannot endow you.

The will of God will never take you,

Where the Spirit of God cannot work through you,

Where the wisdom of God cannot teach you,

Where the army of God cannot protect you,

Where the hands of God cannot mold you.

The will of God will never take you,

Where the love of God cannot enfold you,

Where the mercies of God cannot sustain you,

Where the peace of God cannot calm your fears,

Where the authority of God cannot overrule for you.

The will of God will never take you,

Where the comfort of God cannot dry your tears,

Where the Word of God cannot feed you,

Where the miracles of God cannot be done for you,

Where the omnipresence of God cannot find you.

No greater amount of comfort can out stand that that night. If it will take a 'rhema' Word or a poem to send me to sleep, He'll do it. I do and will trust the Lord, for my hope is built on nothing less. :)

------------------------------------------------------------

Today is the 23rd of July 2012. Stumbling upon this song made me remember this post. I felt the need and urge to post it here. Funny thing, as I posted this that has something to do with water ~ staying ashore & setting the sail, this video does the same thing ~ Walking On The Water as title. Isn't that neat? :)

May I Have This Dance?

It was actually and originally,

Oh, by the way, my post already turned one! At 'di ko pa nasasayaw. :) I posted it for myself and had no idea friends would take time to read through. :)


Let me break this down - backwards:

This dance.

It is because of a particular song that has struck me so strongly (which I am listening to right now), where parts speak of a testimony that marked my life so far... where I could have turned out a mess if not for God's love and grace. I have been wanting to dance to this song. But don't ask me what song it is for I am not going to tell --- yet.

When the time is right.

I have no idea what particular event would have this particular theme. And I don't know, too if opportunity will ever come for this to fit. I am not in a haste though, for I want to dance to this 'fit and right'. This is a dance in progress. I am so willing to invest or give whatever it will demand from me. (Oh, by the way, this blogger is not a dancer as the world labeled it). 

Lord.

Will He approve? Will He let me do this? I dance for Him so, it is but right to ask for His consent. Just like a child asking permission,

"When the time is right, LORD, MAY I HAVE 'THIS DANCE'?"

If it will happen to be an epic request, it's fine. I am willing to wait until He says, "Yes."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, today is the 6th of July 2012. After reading this post again (after 8 months), I think and feel this is a good time to spill the beans. So, here is the song:

A Sneak Peek of the Streak

"It will be Streaks of Penned Thoughts..." 

said I, as I swiveled gently on the office chair. The heart of beginning a blog took me like forever. Naming it, barely a minute. It was so sudden and may appear thoughtless, but it was a product of my 'thinking years'. 


Although I wanted to keep mum about delving into blogging, there's something in me that wants to know if it's going to make sense or not. So I thought of asking my sister.

So, I did.

SMS: "Writing. Parang thought-to-hand writing. Parang as u read the writen form, it also alows u to think or folow d thought dynamics of d writer. Parang kung pano ung thought trail nung writer, ung dynamics and substance ng thoughts nya un ang mababasa mo. Ang effect e parang as u read, u think as d writer did as he was thinking while he writes his thoughts and their dynamics." (Sentence construction, spelling & format retained)

On the other side of town, as I was writing the draft of this post, my other sister, the bubbly one, was trying to peek in what's keeping me busy. Well, in her subtle persistence, she succeeded reading the blog name. 

Streaks of Penned Thoughts??? 


 "Aha! I knew it!  It's you! You named your blog after you. Sounds so much how I call you, PEN-DOTS! Streaks of Pendots!" 


How I laughed! 


So I found her, patting herself, delighted of her decoding achievement. Hehe. She 'might' have guessed the Penned Thoughts, but still has left Streaks behind.


But I did not realize that. She got me there. :)


There you have my sisters. Streaks of Penned Thoughts, in their understanding and 'hearing'.


*   *   *


So, what's with the name? Simple. Nothing spectacular.


Penned Thoughts


Being much of a thinker than a talker, the blogger leans on directing her thoughts into strokes than making thoughts audible. But sometimes, her thoughts run in a speed of light, even before her hands scribble. Not wanting to take those vast, spur of the moment thoughts about her life & faith into waste, she set her hand to motion. Write it down. Mark it down. Pen it down. 


As thoughts make its way, from thought-to-hand writing, or blogging should I say, may its form come forth gracefully, in dashes, smears, in band of colors like


Streaks, and not just blurts.


A novice, creative writer in her own right, this blogger's utmost desire is to give glory to her Lord, the One who has given her the heart to capture the thoughts, and hands to do the work. 

"And to Him I dedicate this blog." :)

A Brief Good-bye

 

I need to set her to a momentary halt and bid her good-bye. I need to. And I want, too.

Success! ACCOUNT DEACTIVATED

It was done without struggle, without sweat, with a demure smile. Deactivating my account was NOT difficult for me, AT ALL. The urge to do (somewhat) serious writing/blogging overpowered this 'blue social network site'. I simply know what I want.


Nonetheless, her end marks the beginning of this blog. I know I have to give up the thing that entices me away from writing. It is hard to start with a discreet distraction waving by the sidelines. I feel like Facebook is a mistress!

Writing is a resurrected dream. It died once, but I want to bring it to life again. So, now, armed with a mind that speaks, a passionate heart that drives this timid soul, and a hand that is willing to do the work, let the words come into being.


Will I miss Facebook and reactivate her in the future? Will the 'good-bye' be brief indeed? I do not know.
There is but one thing I know, I want to write again... faithfully.