All Because of Him We Are More

I happen to have found the closing remarks I made for IV-HC's farewell party inserted in one of my journals.

They're obviously haphazardly written on pieces of scratch papers which I remember writing the morning before our program in a 7eleven store.

And because I miss my classmates, I am excited to blog again and I seek a better place for that piece, let me post it here.

My forever-favorite pioneer Honors Class picture

This closing remarks is lame.

It is competent

senseless

inadequate.

It is useless,

pointless

in every way.

You could think of fancier words from your English major vocabulary more than lame, incompetent, senseless, and inadequate.

But still, this remains useless, pointless in every way.

I could have started this off with the most inspiring congratulatory poem you haven't heard of, or the most moving farewell quotation I could write, but then

This

would still remain useless, pointless

in every single way.

Because how can a five-minute speech (or longer) bring you back to that moment when you entered the room and realized that you are part of the Honors' class and make you see how you fought and strove hard all those 3 years. And you, yes you. After all those 3 years, succeeded. Not just from a regular class nor from a random majorship. You have succeeded as a IV-HC English major.

Because how can a five-minute speech mark the ending of the 3 years we've spent as a a class, as students, actors, play producers, grammar nazis, OP writers, reporters, debaters, leaders, groupmates, workaholics, nocturnals, zombies, friends, brothers, sisters - the 3 years we spent as a family. How can this piece embody all those good and bad, happy and sad, exciting and dull - yet all beautiful memories that we shared?

Because how can a five-minute speech affirm how each and everyone of us has done more than our best, has performed more than what was expected of us and has lived up to our own exceptional standard of what an Honors class is.

Because how can this five-minute speech allow me to tell you fully how thankful I am to be part of this class, to be part of your lives.

Because how can this five-minute speech ever be enough to depict how brilliant and great God is to handpick 20 superb individuals, combine us in one class, get us through the thick and thin of college life, cut us out a little, push us a bit more, then lift us up and let us flourish in greatness in a way we never imagined we could.

This piece would never be enough.

Any piece would not be enough.

You gotta tap that person beside you,

because he/she

is never the lame

incompetent

senseless

inadequate

that this useless and pointless closing remarks can box in every single way.

Our memories are far more than what words could describe or relive.

Our achievements are far more than what honors could give.

We, Honors Class, are more.

And all because of Him, we are.

Irrevocable

Peter and his adventures could have kept me awake up to now. Or probably the coffee or Facebook did.

But when wakefulness (aside from many other things) inspired me to write again, here was the reaction of my ever-slooow moow mooode netbook:

I could not sign in. What an early dawn heart-breaker.

But some things can’t just stop you. Or to better phrase it, you can’t allow some things to just stop you.

My blog has been rusting. But I am writing now. And I will keep on writing again.

***His steadfast love keeps His irrevocable calling in your life.

 

MISS-ery

Like an infant unable to speak

Like a child learning to walk

Like a teen-ager in confusion

Like a man who can’t express his feelings

Like a mother giving birth 

Is the feeling of a person long separated from her craft

In the moments of silence,

When things can’t be put into words…

The ache in the heart cannot be healed

The longing cannot be quieted

The shouting cannot be silenced

Unless words are weaved

Unless meaning and art are formed

Unless the silence ends

And the words speak, shout and STAND

MISS-ery

The state of a heart away from its joy

Away from its cause

MISS- the strong feeling and desire to do something

MISS-ERY?

Writing is the MISSing piece that will complete.

Home again

I am a talkative person in my blog entries. I have tendencies to make a novel out of the pettiest events and details in my life. However, my last attempt for a blog entry was during the 1^st week of October. I was not surprised to see that the only word in the document was a title. It was a wordless, plain, blank page.

Things that usually keep me from writing are the busy school life, my inability to put into words the complexity of my thoughts, feelings and situation and my own will not to do so.

 This is the pain in every writer’s heart. To be unable to do what my heart and hand ached to do. To experience grief and regret over days I was not able to take account of. And to realize that my craft along with my blog is starting to rust.

 But joy lies at the realization of what the silence online has brought me: A writer who has learned more to speak to others what was always unspoken. A writer who has realized how things are not always written because they are understood and analyzed.A writer who was equipped with the desire to restore the “write” commitment. A writer who rejoices for the triumph of a blog attempt. And a writer who celebrates for being home again.

Refining

All I was able to do when I last checked my Multiply account was change my theme and background.

Countless were my attempts to write. Countless were the times I didn’t succeed.

Deep were the longing and ache felt by the heart that could not achieve what it desired.

Desire. A cliché that I’ve used. Desire to write. Similar to cry.

“Apologies to the heart whose cry… desire… to write was never heeded, constantly ignored.”

Desire isn’t enough. A cry isn’t enough.

In my months of AWOL in writing, I believe God has taken my writing in a process of refining.

The question- “Why do I really write?” had been the brunt of what I was being dealt with.

In my deep thoughts I have come to realize that my motto “write to glorify God” can be my sugarcoat for “write to glorify myself”. Behind my “write to share” can be my hidden motive “write to show off”. The fulfillment of God’s purpose in my life through writing can be subtly replaced by the satisfying of my personal fulfillment.

God had given me a striking reminder at the time when I had no guts and inspiration to write again:

            “Abbie, if you can’t and you don’t have any other reason to do it, let Me be your reason to write again. Let Me be your wisdom to write again. You’re living for me. All for my glory.”

But God would never send an angel to drag me from bed, get me a pen and paper, and miraculously trigger me to write my thoughts.

I remember that Sunday morning, when I opened my eyes and heard Charles Stanley say “Discipline not desire determines your destiny” in a TY program.

Desire isn’t enough.

“The desire to write isn’t enough. You got to discipline yourself to do it!” – I’ve highlighted it on my journal.

This isn’t new to me. “I go with the currents of feeling like writing and have not yet gone against the tide of persistently choosing to write as my commitment.”

            I wrote this last year. And surely, God gives remedial tests for lessons we fail to learn! That’s why it’s called a process. The dealing is continuous.

            And another tough call from God is to “live by what you write”.

            I am pro at writing a lot of things and failing to apply them in my life.

BOOOOOOO. That maybe one hurting reason my writing was long halted.

            The Lord is taking me from the IDEAL that I am to being the REAL he wants me to be. (btw, I’m itching to write about the REAL camp:))))

            He wills that these thoughts I put into writing correspond with what people see in my life. That alone will measure up for a truer impact.

            From  the depths of my reason to write, to the mechanism of how I continue to write (that is, by discipline) up to the impact of my writing (living by what I write) - I stand amazed at how God orchestrates this process of refining.

Apologies

December 27, 2011

Tuesday

Apologies

My apologies to:

the notebook I left unnoticed, unopened, and useless

my thoughts wasted, unpublished and left raw

my blog site left unvisited, inactive

my heart left recklessly overloaded with feelings I wasn't able to put into writing

to insights/ learning that I wasn't’t able to take account of

to experiences not recorded and memories not preserved in paper

to the heart that ached for its cry to write was not heeded

to the right hand withheld from what its been itching to do

to my mind, body, overdosed with sleeping, watching movies, eating and sloth

to my God for having to deal with my unfaithfulness and forgetfulness of Him

 

But most of all my apologies

To self

For wanting to be perfect, for wanting everything to be right, for being too hard on myself, for struggling to forgive you and for not realizing these things that I gave my apologies about our things we normally commit mistakes and err upon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The "write feeling" (A very late post)

October 31, 2011

Monday

The "write feeling"

                        It was the same feeling when I happen to scan through Jessica Zafra’s “Twisted”. Each of her essays were dated with the corresponding month and year they were written. I imagined her writing every night, before she slept, when she’s bored, or probably just whenever she suddenly thought of something to write. It was the very feeling of wanting to write something that could be published one day with my name as the author. It was an August 10, and we were looking for “America is in the Heart” at Power Books in Robinson’s Place, Ermita, Manila, not knowing that the book will also ignite the flame in me for writing. It was the autobiography of Carlos Bulosan who only had three years of schooling, spent his life devouring books, and then became a writer in his later years. How can a person with more than thirteen years of schooling not dream to write as well? If books were the things I had to spend my lifetime with, I have 53 years of doing so from an average life span’s point of view.

The same feeling was rekindled last Sunday night when a Pastor in our church finally had his book published. It is a book of humor and evangelism so generous for P200.00, I so desire to have a copy of. 

                        If multiply has “crushes” too (like the one in tumblr) maybe my ultimate crush would be Ate Joan :). Though she isn’t a professional writer yet, consider me an avid fan of her, her blog, and future books :). I think I made mention of words that meant she inspired me for two or three times in my last entry. She has a special way of flaming the “write” feeling in me.

                        The most recent culprit why I’m itching to write all these is the movie “Letters to Juliet”. From a fact checker, Sophie (Amanda Seyfried) became a writer. I was not pro everything about the movie but what struck me most was her intense desire to be able to write. The sight of her eagerly writing on her notebook, her experiences in featuring her first story and finally when she passed her manuscript and sighed at her boss’ affirmation! Her work will be published!  I saw all wonder and gratefulness on her face.

                        This overriding feeling engulfs me right now.

“You are a lover of words… One day, you will write a book. People turn to you because you give voice to dreams, notice little things, and make otherwise impossible imaginings appear real. You are a rare bird who thinks the world is beautiful enough to try to figure it out, who has the courage to dive into your wild mind and go swimming there. You are someone who still believes in cloud watching, people watching, day dreaming, tomorrow, favorite colors, silver clouds, dandelions, and sorrow. Be sacred. Be cool. Be wild. Go far. Words do more than plant miracle seeds with you writing them.”

 

            This is from a friend’s Hallmark bookmark which I copied a year ago. It didn’t have the writer’s name on it, and I didn’t know it would perfectly fit here a year after.

            I have far yet to learn in my writing. I commit grammatical errors. I still have issues in the organization and coherence of my thoughts. I still doubt my own works and ideas. And very noticeable is that I rely on the “write” feeling I have. I go with the currents of feeling like writing and have not yet gone against the tide of persistently choosing to write as my commitment. But maybe every writer then passed through these stages of disbelief, times when they didn’t feel like writing, and moments when their errors get the most of them. But then if I’ll be asked of one gift that God gave me, writing would be my first thought. And through these series of events and “write” feelings, He may be reminding me that this gift that He gave me is my gift to Him. Passion means commitment. “Persistently decide to write regardless of the “write” feeling. This is a ministry He has entrusted writers,” shouts my soul.

In His hands, this gift will flourish; it will turn out into something I have never asked nor imagine.