The Long Way Up

A few days ago my fiancee SURVIVED a motor vehicle accident involving an overspeeding SUV that ran a red light. The driver was apparently a speed-demon and probably fell asleep on the wheel, failing to notice that it was their turn to stop. My fiancee’s car was hit on the driver’s side somewhere between the hinge of the door and the front of the automobile. One of the emergency respondents said she was fortunate that the SUV hit her car at that exact spot as it absorbed most of the impact of the crash. Had it been a few inches toward the front door, the outcome would have been tragic.  Hearing this incident unfold was enough to make my skin crawl, conjuring images of my fiancee severely physically injured or, worse, dead. I can only imagine the shock and fear she must have felt during and/or after the incident. Certainly I felt a great scare on the day the accident happened, and a few days afterward. The pervading rumination was ‘she could have died,’ or ‘she could have been...

Photos are quaint inventions: they freeze moments in time and, when at a later time viewed, evoke emotions and memories of captured life events. I was earlier browsing through my old pictures that have been posted on Facebook and I was delighted by the different events it brought me back to, along with the varied feelings they stirred up in me. From family photos of vacations in Manila, to trips I had made to other countries, to the times I spent teaching biblical truths to high school students, to the first few dates I had with my fiancee, pictures have a way of immortalizing the fleeting and preserving the meaningful. Pictures also bring back precious memories of dearly departed loved ones: like my late father who can often be found sporting a matter-of-fact look on his face; or Sir Allan, a member of one of my Bible study groups who used to bring all sorts of questions to our meetings; or my cousin Edward who was witty, sharp, and amiable all rolled into one. Two ...

It's been a while since I said it last I'll make it quick and I'll make it fast I've seen in you the very best I choose you still; my heart invests A year and more, and more revealed Emotions, actions, words to wield Our love's become an open field I choose you still; to you I yield The little things and nuances They all add up to try and bless They're part of you, but I confess: I choose you still; I won't digress Becoming one with me you are You're getting closer though you're far No stranger to my battle scars I choose you still; thus says my heart Our journey's slow but getting there Has been assured by One Who cares With you around, my burdens share I choose you still, with simple flair

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You go into a grocery store and you'll find it. Purchase an electronic product or an appliance and you'll see it. Venture into a construction or road works area and it'll be highly visible. They're tacked on to things and posted in places where caution is of great import. Warning labels. They inform consumers of potential allergens in food items so that harm could be avoided. They warn users of possible hazards when it comes to operating tech devices and common household appliances to assure safety. They keep the people away from dangerous industrial and public work areas so that no accidents occur. That's what these labels are for: to know how to properly use and operate things, and to always operate them within safe parameters. Many times, I have wished people came with warning labels because sometimes you just really do not know what you're getting when you get into certain human relationships. There's oftentimes no way of knowing who...

At a young age, there are many things that a child may wish to become when they grow up. Some might want to become doctors or astronauts or scientists. Others might desire to become police officers or pilots or ballerinas. At the age of ten, I remember wanting to become two things when I grew up: a teacher, and a priest. Around that age, I remember playing with my action figures, setting them up in a ‘classroom’ scenario where I played the role of teacher and they, by no choice of their own, became my students. During this childhood play time, I did not only give them lessons to learn, but I also pretended to give them exams afterward. I was probably a little over nine. Not long after that when, again, I had to move to another school — a Catholic school, no less — the other of my childhood dreams was incepted. To begin with, I had always felt a closeness to God even before I left the clutches of traditional religion, but having been exposed to the lives of the Catholic s...