Dear Warrior Princess

It is raining today as I write this. I can see from the open door of our office the heavy threads of rain, like a grey curtain that extends indefinitely up to the somber morning sky. I can see the constant splattering of water, droplets of rain turning into even smaller droplets as they hit the ground. The sound and the smell of which makes you go back in time, into a certain moment  where the world is at the tips of your fingers and childhood dreams and reality is one and everything is possible. I don't know if it's really the rain that triggered this hyper-romanticize piece of ramblings, or if it's my soul's deep longing for you at this point where it seemed like millions of years already since I started waiting and praying for you. I guess it's the latter. But didn't I wait for so long already? 

You know, the rain would always either impair my thinking and reasoning or it would give clarity to my sense of being--the kind of which makes you bare your true self, your inmost thoughts, your unadulterated emotions. And since I am still thinking clearly right now, I supposed, there's no other conclusion but to say I am dearly missing you already, my Warrior Princess. But I'm not getting ahead of myself, lest I make the same mistake again. I'm not getting ahead of God in His story for my life. My heart have learned to be steadfast, trusting in the Lord and in His timing.

I can only anticipate you, my Warrior Princess, in my prayers and personal time with the Lord. I know that the best way into your heart is to ask it from God, our great Lord whom I believe we both love and serve. I promise to constantly hear from God as He leads me in the right direction. By His unfailing grace, I would not allow my heart to take chances on us, but to prayerfully give to God all anxieties and worries that are part of the waiting season. If there would be times that waiting becomes tougher than it should be, I will bring the battle on my knees and just be still, believing that as I keep on praying God is working. Whether I see Him or not, God is moving.

Like the rain that is due in its season, so I will be--I will be waiting patiently but pursuing prayerfully. I will pursue you in God, but I will pursue God above all. I will seek you persistently in between, but I will seek God first of all. I will dream about you with big dreams about us, but I will dream for God even more. I will strive to honor you in my prayers and I will live to honor God in all matters. I will love you even now as I wait, and I will love God more with all heart, soul, mind and strength. And I know you will, too.

My beloved, know that I am looking forward to that day when we would be able to finally tell each of our stories of seeking, searching and serving God, without fear and doubts. And how wonderful it would be to see the dots in each of our lives finally find connection in the story called "the rest of our life together". But again, until then, my Warrior Princess. I'll see you there.

Waiting with great delight,
Your Warrior Prince

Here's to the Rain

The heavy pounding of rain on the corrugated metal roof of our house literally woke me up from my senses. For a moment, the grogginess I felt inside wasn’t able to comprehend the exact mayhem around me—feeling disoriented about the space and time I am currently in. If it’s not other-worldly then what is?

Nah! Was it just me or the tangible coldness gradually building up in the atmosphere as humidity fills the air? Was it the thought of being alone in the house, lying on my bed on a Saturday afternoon, and wasting away precious time, which made me apprehensive of my own temporal existence?

Earlier this morning, I tried to jam-pack my weekend to-do lists by trying to accomplish them simultaneously, but all at the same time. Read: IMPOSSIBLE. And since it seemed like I have mastered the craft of procrastination then I have to endure its bitter consequence, chief of them disorienting my cerebral cortex—or whatever is left of it.

I was trying to get a grip on myself as I was preparing for a message that I will deliver tomorrow in the Youth service. The topic is about wisdom and I still can’t figure out why I was so eager to preach it when in fact I’m the one person on earth who really, really needs it. Well, that’s not modesty; I’m just plain honest to myself. But isn’t it the thirsty ones who know where to look for water to drink? Isn’t it the hungry ones who basically find the food? Isn’t it the needy for answers and reason that finds them in the end? Well, these thoughts really make me feel uneasy.

By lunch time, still no one is at home but me. With my sermon outline still unfinished and having no available food to eat, I decided to devour a book—a habit I gotten used to when I need someone around but finds none. Books are a constant companion for me, especially when I need a breather, when I need escape.

This one I’m currently reading is really about writing though. It is a Christian literature written by the author of the bestselling Left Behind series, Jerry Jenkins. I picked it up yesterday in the random shelves of Booksale and thought that it might help since I am also in the process of rethinking my life. Trying to find significance (oh please, here we go again!). Yeah, I’m not still giving up my dream of becoming a writer and journalist; but for the meantime let me have the time of my life writing contents for blogs and pseudo-blogs: stringing words that no one really care about, trying to pretend somebody in the vast universe is reading them and making them wonder what’s all these crap all about? Who knows, I might be sending a message to some cosmic intelligence out there, and might be able to prevent a flurry of chaos on earth. Haha. I’m sorry, but I’m not really into fiction. Although sometimes, my life is.

I planned to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed after falling asleep while watching a lecture on globalization and foreign policy on my cellphone. These lectures, as I learned in the great halls of the graduate school, are truly very useful. They have this distinct downing effect that allows me to get the benefit of a good night’s sleep.
 

And then the rain came.

Splattering with all its might, knocking off my sweet dreams and disturbing my hibernation. I went outside to witness the transformation of the scene around me. It was half past two in the afternoon and the sun was missing. Dark clouds still heavy with rain hover above the rows of mahogany trees and acacia trees of Lingap Kalikasan Park, our place of comfort, my place of sanity.

The chilled air and the smell of freshly wet earth reminds me of a childhood in a barrio in my beloved Pangasinan: half-naked and barefooted, I would scamper around the neighborhood with other kids; relishing the moment of freedom that the rain has given. With raindrops pounding on our bodies, we ran and ran in the green fields and mud fields, doing somersaults on wet haystacks, plunging into irrigation canals and mocking one another while savoring pure bliss on our paper boat races.

This was our moment. And we own the world with our laughter and childish fascinations.

But man, enough with the reminiscences! I still have a sermon to finish, a book to digest, and piles of student papers to check. But the rain was so inviting. I always like to claim that water is my element although I never really liked swimming. Especially rain, there’s something in it that fascinates me. The way it transforms the surroundings, the way it gives life to something that needs it.

The child in me tells me something. Forget the sermon outline for the meantime, forget the book, forget the things that bother, and jump in the rain.

And I did. And all the world again was mine.