MY THREE DECADES ON EARTH

Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday!
[4:46:21 PM] CY says: I hope it is a good one and that you do something special!!!

That's a greeting I got from a mentor and a friend via Skype at 4 this afternoon while UB, S, and I were in our last lap in consultant checking the book of Judges. We did the 21 chaps in 3 days and PTL for His never ending guidance. At past 7 in the evening, we wrapped it up and then the party... but I'm gonna talk about that in another entry.

Yes, today is my birthday and I'm at that point where most people would no longer want to count... and honestly I'm one of 'most people' but that does not mean that I am not thankful to my Savior for bringing me this far.

I turned thirty today and I'm tired. Well, not tired like tired of life, just tired as in my eyes and my mind is a little bit bushed, and when I am all-in, I become reflective. Hehehe! So anyway, being thirty made me look back at my life and I conclude that thus far, I have had a good life; not a carefree one, but nonetheless a blessed life.

The first decade of my life is probably the easiest. Here's some of the highlights:

I was born at around 2 in the
afternoon in a little sleepy village called Nansiakan, one of the eastern
villages belonging to a rather lethargic town called Kayapa. (Ironically, in Filipino, “kaya pa” means “I
still can,” as if trying to convey the
message that it still can manage to rise up from its uneventful history.

As a child, my parents introduced
me to the saving grace that is in Jesus Christ though I have not really grasped
its real significance until later.
During school breaks, we would watch the rice fields from rice-eating
sparrows (but would always go skinny-dipping with my friends, who usually are
my cousins, in the river nearby when my father is busy plowing the
fields.) I would run across the rice
paddies (and more often than not, fall to the murky waters) to free the trapped
bird from a sticky tree-paste. (My older brother, would roast the caught birds and we’ll tie little knots all
over it and try to pull in all directions to see who would get the most bird
meat. I usually tie my knot on the
roasted bird’s stringy neck to make sure that I would at least get something
(of course the little head) because if at the end, your knot comes off with nothing,
all of the participants will give you a flick on both earlobes (believe me,
it’s terrible). Anyway, I enjoyed those
days of river skinny-dipping and bird roasting/eating.

Awana Club. LB, an American missionary from Chicago,
IL came to the Philippines
in October 1977. I was barely 7 months
old. To us children, she is our “White
Aunt.” A picture of strict discipline
but in reality a loving aunt and spiritual mother to all of us children. She organized a club where the children are
grouped according to their ages. The
little ones are called “kingki” or a lamp made up of an empty bottle of a
cooking oil or San Miguel gin filled with kerosene where a strip of cotton cloth is dipped on one end while the other end outside the bottle is lit. The next group is called “halang” (A torch from a root or trunk of a
pine tree.) and that is where I belong. We were mostly 3^rd and 4^th
graders in this group. The last group
which consisted of the older ones (5^th graders to high-schoolers) is
called “hasag” which is also a lamp but emits brighter light. My aunts and older cousins belong to this
group. My most unforgettable memories in
this club were the Bible Stories, Memory Verses and the Games after each
session plus the songs of course. They
give us a list of verses to memorize and each Sunday we should be able to
recite a verse by heart in front of one of the teachers. I did well in verse memorizing. Of all the children, I was always the first
one to read and memorize a verse in a short period of time. I love the competition. I have yet to understand the meaning of those
verses. Thankfully, the New Testament
Bible was published in my very own language in November 1983 and so memorizing
comes easier since we are reading the Bible in our heart language.

During Christmas celebrations, we
would always present a drama on the Christmas Story. I usually would either be one of the angels
or the shepherds. It never mattered to
me if I am not Mary, as long as I’m in the play.

Though I did most of these things
for the fun of it, I know now as an adult that this was a stage of my life
where most of my values had been developed.
The value of life and living a godly life was inculcated in me. I have yet to understand my right response to
the gift of God, that of Salvation in Jesus Christ.

May 1986. The 'no permanent addresses' have infested my little village of Nansiakan. My father, being one of the village guards
and church leader was one of their targets.
He had more than two not-so-happy encounters with them during that year. Lead by the Lord, for the peace and safety of
his family, my father decided to leave the village.
Dad, mom, Lee, my little brother and Sarah, the youngest and myself
traveled by foot from my birth village to Mapayao, another village
approximately 20 km from Nansiakan. For the whole day, we walked up and down
rugged trails with the scorching sun beating down on us like an angry teacher. After 9 hours of an ardous journey, we reached a
little hut and Daddy said that that's gonna be home from that time on. During the first week, I missed my cousins
terribly that I can’t function normally.
I wouldn’t want to go and venture outside the house. Of the things that I immediately noticed in
the new place are that people don’t care much about taking a bath or washing their
faces or anything about hygiene and grooming. One morning, my mom sent me to fetch water
from a well down the hill and I saw a little girl, with black smudges of soot on her
face and legs, probably younger than me by 5 years. She was wearing a tattered red rug. What a sight!
We were supposed to meet in the middle of the little trail that leads to
the well, but to my surprise, she
disappeared before I was able to smile at her.
So much for making new friends! I
told myself.

As days passed and months came
and went, I begun to see more of the place and realized for the first time in
months, what a beautiful village it was compared to my old one. There were stretch and stretch of green
prairies where both water buffalos and cows graze side by side. There were mountains and mountains of
beautiful, proud pine trees that sing when the wind blows. I began taking my younger siblings out to the
hills to play, usually by burying ourselves under the dried pine needles that
smells so good. Until now, the tangy
smell of pine needles reminds me of those early happy years of my childhood.

New School. Fifth grade took me to the only school in my
new village. I remember the day. I came home from my old school to recuperate
from a bad case of flu. And one day, I
was babysitting my younger siblings when my love for outdoors brought me to the
school zone. A teacher who used to teach
in my old school saw me and invited me to sit in her class. From then on, I attended a classful of fourth
and fifth graders thrown in one little crowded room. I was nine years old, the youngest in my
class. (My classmates ages ranged from 12-25. Those were the years when literacy is still being introduced to the Kalanguya country and so adults who never had the opportunity to go to school as children attend primary and elementary school.) The weeks turned to months and
soon the school year was over. I
finished fifth grade, brought home the fourth slice of the bacon among the
class. I expected more than that. The young mind thought it was favoritism on
the part of the teacher so she vowed to go back to her old school. After all, her roots are there. Defeated?
Change the course! She told
herself.

Frustrations. Sixth grade was
full of contests from singing to quiz bees and orations to verse choir, amateur
story writing to poem recitation. I’ve
participated in all despite all the unruly nerves. In one of the oratorical contests, my teacher
told me and another girl that whoever places higher in the contest will be the one to
receive the gold medal. Graduation
came, I waited to be given the
valedictory address but again to my dismay, I was told to deliver the
salutatory address. Once again, I failed
to reach up to my expectation. Oh
well!!! So much for expectations! But I was happy! Unbelievably joyous that the elementary phase of education is over!

In October 21, 1987, I decided to let everyone know that I
am a believer in Jesus Christ; a child of God. I was baptized in a
cool, clear, sparkling river called “Beley ni Iyoh (Home to the Aged
Eel).”

.... to be continued....