MARGIENARY

I have a few more reading assignments with deadlines that have come and gone and yet I still could not get myself to a point where I have the least bit of inclination to read and then write something about what I have read.  So what I have been doing was procrastinate by doing other less demanding (well, that depends on one's favourite thing to do) tasks in terms of brain energy usage; i.e. checking a written and an audio translation of books from an OT and a NT projects in the country and researching and writing Bible Study materials for adult Sunday School, teaching online seminars a few days a month.  Yet even then, I am barely accomplishing what I have set out to do this year.  Anyhow, things are getting done at a slug-pace but I guess I should thank my lucky stars (not that I believe in things like that) for the fact that my conscience still does a number on me every time I get into my most depressed, most sloth(y) season in life, which forces me to work for my daily bread, so

No longer am I scared of the darkness The midnight blackness that you see when you look in my eyes Are just shadows left by years of sleepless nights And the ghosts of my past that used to haunt all of my waking moments. But now, I don't have to linger and play hide and seek with my demons Because you've kissed away my pain, healed my wounds, until Nothing is left, not even indiscernible scars on what had been my wounded soul I've shed all the tears I can cry; now, my eyes are dry. In these pages, I've poured out all my heartaches Written them all down in blood between these lines Bravely, I have fought my battles, and it's true, I did lose some But my goodness, you are my witness that I have won the war. I am here with you, after all, alive and real, red ink is zinging in my veins All set to write new stories, or even rewrite old ones if I get the chance To create new memories, or reminisce about the good old times, With you and our lives that the Heavens chose to

I grew up in the villages of Nansiakan and Mapayao Kayapa, Nueva Vizcaya, Philippines at a time when everyone treated each other like Family; everyone's mom was called auntie even if they were no relation. 👫 We were never carried in strollers but we had a better ride in the form of our mother's or grandmother's "kayabang" (basket carried on the back with an "oyon"). Our playground was the rice field, following along behind the water buffalo as our dad plough the field. As early as 7 years old, we were responsible little persons that our parents trusted us to take care of our baby brothers and sisters when they were gone for a whole day working in the farm a considerable distance away, and they knew we would make fire, boil rice and feed the baby with the rice-water or cooked porridge if our sibling is a toddler or take our baby sibling to the neighbour for breastmilk if the baby gets hungry before our mom gets home. At 10 years old, we were expected to