Where shall I begin my story?

Where shall I begin my story?

It's five minutes past six in the evening. And there are a lot of things that plays recurrently on my mind. Pass on heavy reflections. Go beyond emotional crashing. I haven't blogged for ages and I can sense my fingers are hungry to devour on the keyboard and feast on that cursor blinking before my eyes.

But where shall I begin my story? The past days kept on lingering in my mind, as if urging me to capture them and relive them in my memory.

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Shall I begin it with the day I left for Palawan two months ago? Why not? That afternoon I first set foot on the island is still vivid on my memory as clear as the blue palette penetrating the sky that same day. I went there to attend a summer youth camp organized by a friend.

Who would have thought that I would stay there to do volunteer jobs for the youth? Not to mention it was a youth ministry (read: church ministry). And knowing how censorious I am regarding religion, religiosity and the concept of God, I could have backed off initially.

After spending my first week at a generally successful summer youth camp, I can hardly imagine how I was able to live each week day waking up in the morning just to go to church and going back home late in the evening. More is it unimaginable of me waking up first thing in Sunday mornings just to attend three church services. It was hectic. Each day I am in church. Each moment I spend with church people. They apply their devotion and faith. I profess ideas, concepts and theories.

I admit though that it was a turning point in my life-a sudden and unexpected shift of trajectory. I was caught off guard at first because I was adamantly fixated with the beliefs I have been adhering to for quite some time now. I was rigid and unyielding. But as each day passed, and in each moment I bumped into, I encountered God. It was inevitable. And I know I made the right choice.

As I looked below from the plane's window a month and two weeks after, I just concede that Palawan gave me perspective. I have seen pictures bigger than what I am used to. That there's more to life than yielding into the visible world and its caprices. That there's more to life than proving one's self worthy of recognition by the majority. Beyond that, it is still the invisible and the selfless, defiant deeds that shall matter in the end.

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Or shall I begin it with the day I set my foot back in Manila? And how grave I suffered from separation anxiety and emotional crashing that day? One reason is that I had a hard time saying goodbye to people I had established relationship with. It was short. Nonetheless, meaningful. It's really hard to re-focus once again. Another is that going back home knowing that my mom's in the hospital is really something debilitating to the spirit.

I have spent my time with my mom for the last three weeks in the hospital. The first week, I just visit her everyday because we got a helper to accompany her. And I spent each night with her for two weeks tending her needs.

I can recall two incidences which brought me into tears and agony while taking care of her. One was when she asked me "Jan, punasan mo naman ako o" (Jan, please have me sponged) in a very little voice, as if I was then only one in control. It was there that I felt I was her body: her hands and feet. It was sweet and loving, but it can be stressful and dislodging as well.

I can only sense how she is feeling in each moment she feels hopeless and helpless. And it hurts me bad. Scars me deep. For I never find the right words to say that it is totally okay with me doing these things for her. That even though sometimes I need to rest and start to flare up, I always concede and do the things I needed to. Because I know I owe it to her, in fact even more. Because I love her.

Another one was when we were having a small talk, and she blurted out "gusto ko na nga rin magpahinga eh, pagod na rin ako. Kaya nyo naman na. malalaki na kayo" (I already want to rest, I'm tired already. You're big enough to take care of yourselves." It is during this moment that I already conceded that inasmuch as I want her to live, let His' will take control.

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Or shall I begin it today, the day after she was relieved from the hospital? And how I was able to rest and think deeper about the stretching situations I have set myself in (or: myself have been set in) for the past months?

My dad called me early this morning and we had this little argument about our decision to let my tita take care of my mom in Cavite temporarily while I am attending some errands. He was frantic about my tita getting infuriated and digging into the past feuds and misfortunes. He was also dramatic and weary. Maybe about mom's condition. Maybe about my siblings' education. Perhaps our unstable financial situation.

And I couldn't help but understand him. In as much as I do not know what to do with my mom, he doesn't know much more. Her illness has been a burden not only to her but the family as well. And it was a burden that we have to tender to as much as we can and have it surrendered to His able will.

I really am in a crossroad of my life. It is a juncture between choosing to make my life right now, as what the rest of my batch is doing, or have it spent instead with my mom. Should I work or should I take care of my mom? The former speaks of me getting into the rat race, immersing into the "real" world to prove that I deserve the laurels I have got. The latter rests mysterious for I do not know until when it shall take me. Nonetheless, it shall be a selfless act that for sure I would never regret for the rest of my life.

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I must've known by now where to begin my story. And it's certainly not from where I left it off few months ago. But from a new morning with a new hope that another day shall pass and pass again and I shall never be burdened because I already surrendered them to Him and took faith in His unending Grace.