in the bridegroom's presence

I am getting annoyed at myself for starting these blogs and not finishing them. This was dated 3/11/11 - and I can't tell you what I was even thinking, since it was almost two years ago!Let's see. If I played a game with myself and blogged given any random title, what would I say about this?In the bridegroom's presence, we rejoice and not suffer. There is no sacrifice to be had because we are in a moment of celebration.Ash Wednesday approaches us next week and as Catholics, we are asked to pray, fast, and give alms. What to fast this year? Different ideas have come to mind, but what would be a true sacrifice that would keep me from doing anything for myself but rather for the good of others and the world? Maybe it'll be good for me too because my relationship with Christ will grow. Many people say, "It's not what you give up but the Spirit of the heart and the intention behind it." So if giving up social media or hanging out with my friends will bring me closer to God, maybe I'll consider that. Anyway, I have a week left to pray about what He really is calling me to do. I wish it were as simple as when I was in grade school. "I'm giving up chocolate!". Well we'll see. I love Lent, though sometimes I do dread it. It's such a "dark" time when Jesus was being put to trial, ready to be crucified and mocked. However it is an awesome time in the faith, when His resurrection brings Light and Hope to the world for ages to come. This is the time that I really really remember how much Jesus loves me and that He died like a thief thousands of years ago, just so then someone like me - a person who fails in loving him 100% daily, can be forgiven over and over again.Then on that day, when we are in the presence of the bridegroom, we can all rejoice...and eat chocolate!

"Ignorance of scripture is ignorance of Christ."

I heard this on September 17, 2010 and have been meaning to blog about it ever since. Two years later, I gained the courage to finally put it down on paper. As a Catholic, our faith and foundation is based on Christ's teachings in scripture. It is a pillar of truth. However, it is our (well at least my) Achilles Heel. Bible reading is my weak spot and quoting scripture is definitely not my strongest quality. That's okay though. I've come to a point in my faith where I am now comfortable to read it as much as possible on a daily basis and at least talk about it. I can at least speak to many of the teachings that are relevant to conversations I have with others. If they wanna see it themselves, I know I can just say, "Ok, hold on. I'll find it for you." It's better than me going "uhhmmm....yeah" then walk away. YaknowwudImean?? So that said, ignorance of scripture truly is ignorance of Christ. If we don't base our lives on the word of God, then we're basically ignoring His love and trying to make it on our own. I'm grateful for a friendship I was recently a part of. He really challenged me to read the bible daily, starting with Psalms. I enjoyed praising God in this way and really finding myself relate to those of the past. Now I'm slowly digging into the Gospels. Day by day, I continue to challenge myself to read scripture and reflect on it as it pertains to my daily life. Soon not only will these words in a book be known to others through my words, but I pray it will be reflected in my daily actions.

wasn't the world supposed to end?

I remember when they said that the world was going to end on 12.21.12, I planned for a HUGE 31st birthday party with a priest available for confession at the end. So much for the end of the world, and so much for the huge party. Neither happened but I'm actually happy about it. Maybe it's because I wanted to live my 29th birthday to it's fullest as my last in my 20's kind of thing. And then maybe it's cuz i'm now 31 and tired come 11pm. Nah, who am I kidding - if I live to be 100, I'm still pretty young :) Well just wanted to blog that we're still alive and the world didn't end on 12.21.12.

where earth and heaven meet

Written two days after Grandma passed away. Needed time to process my thoughts...

December 6, 2005

Today is grandma and grandpa’s 52nd wedding anniversary. Beautiful.

So I take a trip down memory lane seeing grandma all bundled up at Thanksgiving dinner with her red sweater. Thinking that she’s finally gaining weight, I hoped her new leg would help her walk batter. I remember her hugging me. Pulling me close to her. It would have been one of her last physical hugs for me. We laughed all night at the dinner table about how grandpa and her dated. We had a sharing about what we’re thankful for and she said, “Don’t pray too long, God will get sleepy.” That’s her blunt humor. She thanked grandpa for growing in the Philippines but rooted in America or else we all wouldn’t be here. Then after we left, she got sick and went to the emergency room.

I didn’t visit her until Sunday afternoon. I was there for twenty minutes. We received communion together that day. We shared the body of Christ because she said it was too large for her to swallow one whole host that time. She asked me if I had gone to mass, where, and what time. She asked me this three times. Her confusion worried me, but this wasn’t the first time this happened. I thought she was either overreacting, being over dramatic or heavily medicated. I remember being sad but being so used to it that I figured she’d be out soon enough. She asked to kiss me. “Come here so I can kiss you.” My last…

I heard that on Monday she was just looking at people not really responding.

I visited her on Tuesday where her eyes were closed and she was trapped in her body. I’d talk to her and she’d turn her head to me, but she wouldn’t open her eyes let alone her mouth.

Wednesday was worse. No one knew why she was the way she was. No stroke. Negative CAT scan and MRI. No one knew what was wrong.

Thursday just another visit. A possible bacteria infection. She was no longer able to turn her head. She squeaked as if whining because she didn’t want to be there. She tried to open her eyes. She was just too weak. She could no longer breathe well on her own, so it was agreed to put her on a ventilator. Later we find out that she didn’t want to be on it. The family decided to take her off of it on Sunday, so everyone came on Saturday to hang out with her and say good bye. We were all there, and it felt good. I feel so safe with my family. I feel complete. A piece of heaven was with me.

On Sunday, at mass, I felt so blessed to be a part of the Catholic Church. I felt as though I belonged. A part of the mystical body of Christ. I love it! Being the second week of Christmas/Advent, the gospel and theme was “prepare the way”. I believed that grandma lived out these words. Her whole life was lived for Christ. She prepared herself for her entering heaven all her life. I truly believe that.

We go to mass then went to Good Sam. No improvements.

We scheduled to remove her from the machines at 3PM.

We got upstairs and prayed. The next thing I know, the nurse told my dad that her heartbeat was weakening so to call everyone upstairs. She’d give us 15 minutes and then take grandma off the machines.

Because of the guilt that comes with taking grandma off the machine, everyone prayed for God’s will to be done, and we wouldn't have to.

And it was.

At 240P, grandma’s heartbeat started weakening. Her breathing slowed down. I held her hand as we prayed the Divine Mercy and sang How Great Thou Art. It was the weirdest feeling. I was desperate for more of her at the last second. I wasn’t ready to let go. When grandma stopped breathing, my heart broke. I lost a part of it. She had entered Heaven. It was the weirdest feeling. So light, fuzzy, light headed. It was weird. My stomach felt weird. My heart felt weirder. It’s like I saw it, yet it felt liked I dreamt it. But I was so excited for her. She made it into heaven: a place where she could run and be at peace.

Everything felt weird after that. I won’t see her every weekend. She won’t call me on my birthday. It just feels weird that I’ll never see her on earth anymore.

But she gets to be with her parents, Itay, Raphael, Michael, and Bernadette. She gets to be with Uncle Roland. Now she can be with Jesus and Mother Mary. She can be with all her favorite saints, Mother Theresa, and Blessed John Paul II.

She’s so blessed.

Her prayers are so much stronger now. I told her to put in a good word for me with God.

So that’s it. And now it’s just weird. My last Christmas and birthday gift from grandma is a ticket to the Philippines. Lord, let it be Your will that I stay there for Christmas. Please, Lord!

waiting room

Nothing gives me more anxiety than waiting in the "Waiting Room" at a doctor's office. Even if nothing is wrong and you know exactly why you're there and what is going to happen, the time when you're just sitting in there waiting for your name to be called is so nerve wrecking. What is it? I've spent enough hours in the waiting room this year than I would like, but each and every time I was called to the room and left the doctor's office, everything was always okay. That's just the same with my prayer time. Sometimes I just sit there and look up at the cross or a statue of Mother Mary and wonder what I'm supposed to do next. What am I waiting for? But then I'm called in my prayer time and when it's over, I leave feeling less anxious and more peaceful. Yet each and every time - it's a bit nerve wrecking. What is it about the silence of waiting, the unknown, that keeps me up at night? Some people just seem so calm, watching TV, reading their magazine, playing on their phone. Me? My mind races a mile a minute anticipating what's going to happen. And all this has taught me that I need to learn to stop and just read a trashy magazine once in a while. Dwell on the life of a celebrity's next marriage or adoption rather than plan out my funeral. I know I'm talking two extremes here, but you know what I mean. I need to think less of my worries that I know won't come and focus on the now. Right now, as I pray, I know the Lord is holding my heart. Mother Mary is holding me in her arms. I'm good, I'm golden. Yet my mind is still planning out the demise and shatter of my heart. What kind of faith is that? What kind of faith do I carry if I already pretend I know what will happen with my heart...the same heart that I know is being held and protected by my Father. He would never destroy it. He would never let it harm me. I'm not in the waiting room in anticipation of heart surgery, sheesh! I'm just waiting for a normal check up to know that I'm still ok and on the right path to a healthy life. The Lord is my Physician, and He knows best how to care for me. I mean I still take preventative care into my hands, but He's cool with it. Keeps me in the waiting room less than I need to.

Remain seated with your seat belts fastened

I pack my bags with the necessary items I will need for a trip: clothes, shoes, toiletries, my mac book pro, and the occasional DVD to keep me entertained on the plane. As I planned out what to bring with me for my trip, I couldn’t help but reflect on what I DIDN’T want to bring. When you travel to a new city, outside of your everyday rituals, you want to be new. Funny thing is, when I go back to Chicago, I become the old. I’m the girl who’s super comfortable in her own skin. I become the woman who speaks her mind without worry of people misunderstanding her intentions. It takes a lot of heartache and fighting for people to understand you and know what the core of you is. I packed the happy-go-lucky attitude and placed it carefully on top of the hurt and confusion I guess I’m bringing along. I don’t bring this for my own entertainment, but so I can show it to my best friends and see if they can make sense of how I need to alter it so it CAN fit in my life. I don’t want to leave it behind because it’s just going to still be there when I come back to my apartment. I want it out, so I can go back and bring it renewed. Tucked away and rolled up at the bottom of my suitcase is wonder. My discernment of what the next step is, is secured within as to not be damaged by all the crazy handling of the luggage as I push and pull it around. Now I’m thousands of feet high above the sky, having left the security of the solid ground beneath me. Instead I’m soaring through the sky, susceptible to the danger and free fall that is risked along with this trip. Soar, Maricris. It’s the risk you take, baggage and all. I don’t understand what happened before I left but why does it feel unsettling? I don’t expect an essay of text messages once I turn my phone on upon landing. Rather, I expect more hurt and disappointment for the failure to acknowledge that I had packed and left. I’m usually not this honest in my blogs, but let’s be real talk. These are thoughts anyone would think but not a lot of people would admit to out loud – or in this case, in writing. The clouds can be in different forms: dark and thick or light and fluffy. Regardless, I’m above it and can only hope it will clear so I can get back on solid ground with a ray of sunshine hitting my face. Let it remind me that there is always hope after the dark. As I roll my luggage, unpack my troubles and self-confidence, I’ll find myself in a world where everybody knows my name.

potential

A word so simple, yet rings so song. I attended a company wide meeting this week and this word was thrown around in the context of motivation. "You have so much potential." "There's so much potential in this company to be a gold standard." Yes. Potential. I get it. Say it enough, and you're going to make me feel as though I'm not doing anything at all. In YFC (yeah, that's how I knew it ok?), we would always invite our "potential leaders" to trainings. Once they came to the training - there was no more "potential" in the title by the time they left. Granted, they didn't really "do anything" yet, but we believed that the call was already there and they were sent to mission. I think by Mr. Prez saying "there's so much potential" in our company, among the players of the team - these past 6 months have shown them nothing. Is that true? We haven't reached our potential, I get it. He means well. But at the same time, how about a "You guys have been doing excellent work, and I know that you guys will always produce something better than the last." Cuz otherwise it just feels like I haven't done jack. Is this true? Am I at a corporation that only sees potential and not the 12+ hour days over half the company puts in on a DAILY basis? Pardon the rant, but I'm just saying. I believe our team has worked really hard. Were mistakes made and is there room for improvement? Of course. Is that what he meant by saying "you have so much potential?" Maybe. But define what we're aiming for. Potential for perfection? Cuz that is going to be a long term goal and I understand that we must always work to be better than the day before. But potential to be good - don't. So I guess I just need a definition of where you want us, and what this "potential" is supposed to grow into. Then I think we'll be good.