It is a gift of memories - this video that my son Chris in Las Vegas sent me. It only has a playing time of 1:36 minutes but it unreels several years of a lifetime..... while it has the latest American Idol David singing The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, the music that I hear is Paul Anka's The Times of Your Life....
"the memories are time that you borrow,
spend when you get to
tomorrow......" (Times of Your Life)
1977 - with Colin in front of the house he built for us in
Navaro Courts, Sta. Maria, Zamboanga City; the house
I made into a home for Chris, Cathy, Junjun and Cherry
plus three small dogs (a terrier named Sheila, a Spitz
called Snow and a daschund nicknamed Duchess...); I
remember designing its interiors and landscaping the front
lawn and having my brother-in-law Rene (who was visiting)
help me whitewash the fence; these were the years when
Colin was with Unilab covering the Zamboanga City, Zambo.
del Sur & del Norte, Basilan and Jolo areas....
1986 - March and high school graduation time for Chris in
Ateneo de Zamboanga; photo here has me hanging one of
his medals on him (he had six of them for academic and
co-curricular achievements, one of which was for his out-
standing work as editor-in-chief of the Ateneo Blue
Eagle); I am in a red maternity dress awaiting the May
birth of Mitzi....
1992 - summer and in a 'sad' visit to Tacloban to be
with my Mama who was recuperating from a stroke from
which she never recovered her mobility; sad, because
she was one to be always up and about doing her
mothering role and this time, the tables had turned - I
was spoonfeeding her at mealtimes and teaching her
to write her name; and I recall raging against the
'mean-ness' of Time for taking its toll.....
1999 - showing off Cebu City to balikbayan
brother-in-law Rene and his wife Pura; the video is of
my four girls and me at the Taoist Temple in Lahug; Chris
was doing stint as head of hospital in a Negros Or.
municipality (the year before he left for the US); Cathy
had started working as a copywriter for an ad agency;
Cherry in the college of dentistry in Cebu Doctors';
Tintin in her senior year in Masscom, and Mitzi, in school
at Cebu Science High School.... the kids were grown-ups
now..... Junjun was married by then and the first grand-
child Princess was already a year old....
Thank you for the priceless gift of memories - cherished is the word for them....
"the seasons are passing one by one,
so gather moments while you may,
collect the dreams you dream today
- remember, will you remember
the times of your life......"
Here comes a proposal that should set many a woman’s heart a-flutter – the recent proposal of Cebu City Councilor Jose Daluz to amend the city’s Omnibus Tax Code. If passed, the city’s amelioration tax trust fund will be specifically used for programs and projects for women and children. The measure also seeks to increase the amelioration tax fund by imposing a ten peso ‘admission fee’ on every customer of ‘fun’ establishments, the likes of motels, bars, clubs, massage parlors and gambling dens.(Sun Star Daily 6/23/08).
This will translate into millions of pesos that will certainly improve the lives of women and children (especially those in the marginalized sector). Our barangays will have better equipped day care centers and playgrounds, upgraded facilities in the health centers, livelihood training and micro-financing of home-based industries, to mention but a few. Aside from these tangible benefits, it will bring a kind of ‘poetic’ justice to women who work long hours at home – making do with the pittance they get for household bills and their children’s necessities (this from guys who wouldn’t think twice of spending hefty sums for nights’out with the barkada; or worse, who would gladly empty their pockets on the whims of bitches who catch their fancies) This measure will just be a way of giving back to the woman of the house part of what is due her for her backbreaking domestic labor. In some highly-developed nations, the state pays women to stay home and raise children. The children up to a certain age enjoys health and education subsidies. While such social policies are still beyond our reach, we can make do with this proposed ordinance for starters. We can imagine the implications of a bigger amelioration tax trust fund: well-manned and upgraded facilities in day care centers and playgrounds will allow women more time to pursue income-generating activities through livelihood training and technical/financial assistance; with more income, they will be able to improve the quality of their families’ lives; but most important of all – the dignity lost by women in the often thankless pursuit of their calling as mothers and wives will be restored. They will stop being ‘charity cases’ of husbands who may give them money but with so many strings attached that it is no longer a gift but insufficient remuneration for being a welcome doormat, a fast food waitress, a personal valet, a masseuse, a sex object, a laundry and cleaning service and for the unfortunate ones, a punching bag! This is truly a decent proposal that will inspire women to persevere in their roles as molders of our youth into mature and responsible adults for a better Philippines and a better world. * * *
It is the dawn of a Sunday – no one’s stirring in the house yet. I draw the window drapes to the start of a beautiful day - fresh and cool from the night’s rain. The first rays of the slowly rising sun touches the dew on the leaves of the mango tree, making it shimmer with twinkling fairy lights. Soon, all too soon, this breathtaking sight will just be an illusion. I look for paper and pencil to capture the scene - painting with words the enchantment that lay before my eyes. Then I hear the sounds of early churchgoers exchanging Father’s Day greetings and instantly my mind flips open my memory book to the first chapter entitled – Tatay and Me. I rush to this keyboard to encode it fearful that just like the beautiful view in the garden, the memories of another time will also fade away….
My father was a big, tall man. He had extra large feet which were shod in leather slippers when he was at home. I used to shudder at the thought of those slippers hitting my butt although I don’t remember getting spanked with them. What I do remember were the stern beratings when I’d come home from many a childhood caper… like that time I fell off the see-saw in the Leyte Normal School playground across the street from our old Juan Luna St. house. (I still bear the scar on my left temple just an inch from the eye). Or the time I came home sporting a big blister on my right foot just below the toes from trailing behind my older brothers Nonong and Nene who’d often go to the rice hull dumpsite near the the Leyte High School to roast camote with their friends when the grain hulls were being burned. I accidentally roasted my foot and got a scolding along with the first aid from my father.  Tatay was a quiet man, but when he talked, we listened and that forever stopped me from trailing my brothers as they went about the streets of Tacloban as shoeshine boys; or fishing in the Mangonbangon river that run thru the back of Leyte Normal and under the bridge one had to cross to get to Leyte High; or further away to what they called Biscay then (that strip of shoreline near what is now the UP Tac. Botanical Garden). As a child, I took those scoldings at face value, but as a parent, I now understand them for what they were – expressions of deep concern for my well-being. Other memories reel off – how he would knot with precision the necktie which completed my grade school uniform in St. Paul’s (in those days school ties were not the ‘pinned on’ ones of today but really knotted and tied.) Or those times that he’d say I should wear horseshoes because I easily wore down my leather shoes from playing too many a game of ‘sagusud’, ‘market day’ or ‘dakop-dakop’ before and after class hours. Tatay was the first City Treasurer of Tacloban. He used to bring me with him to the office (most probably to let my mother rest from my ‘kakulitan’)which was in the old City Hall in Tarcela St. where the public market now stands. It was at this time that he went back to school to pursue a law degree at the Leyte Colleges. What stands out in my memory of this period was his graduation day. I was about five years old but I had the honor of carrying his toga. When the processional started, I noticed that he was the only one without a corsage. From where I sat with my mother in the school quadrangle, I saw gumamela flowers behind the fence and they were all laughing at me when I tried to get them for my father’s corsage. He took me with him to Manila for his review and bar exams. We lived with my mom’s sister in Camp Murphy (now Camp Aguinaldo) but during his free days he’d take me to places in the city. We’d hear mass at the Manila Cathedral in Intramuros and afterwards walk to the nearby San Agustin Church which was his particular favorite for its priceless paintings and artifacts that graced the cloisters and hallways as well as the tombs of the Spaniards who figured in our history. And cruising along in a taxi towards other places, he would point out other historical landmarks. On other visits to the city, we were even able to visit Malacanang Palace. This was when a man of the masses, Pres. Ramon Magsaysay, was in office. It was a ‘homier’ kind of Malacanang then, unlike now with its palatial trappings, manicured lawns and yes! the army of sentries. Unknowingly, even at that early age, he was already immersing me in our national history and culture. Our ‘puropasyada’ were not complete without dropping by his favorite eating places. Max , for one, on Roxas Blvd. (it was Dewey B. then) the parent resto of the Max of today. Then, one could eat its fried spring chicken to the bones and flavor-wise, nobody did chicken like Max. Sad to say, it doesn’t seem so today (or could it be just the magic of childhood that allows one to merely enjoy and savor the elements of the moment?) When lunchtime caught us in Avenida Rizal, he’d take us to Luisa’s & Sons where they had live singers. This is where I got introduced to the rolled up and steamed sweet-smelling towellettes that certified promdis mistake for fresh lumpia (or so the joke went…) There was another dining place, the name escapes me now, that was a favorite of the white-collared denizens of Escolta (this was when the Makati business district was still on a drawing board). He also had a favorite eating place in the domestic airport where he took his brunch before flying back to Tacloban on later trips. In Tacloban, our eat-out experience was limited to where else but Felisa’s Café on Gran Capitan St. (now Justice Romauldez St) for the favorite staples of their merienda menu – mongo con hielo and siopao mongo. Sunday dine-outs where usually in Burauen when my father’s siblings and our cousins would have weekly re-unions. My father had very simple tastes – he would truly feel out of place in the present time when our public officials take their meriendas in posh hotels and even play golf in China! Tatay never compromised the integrity of his office not even for his children. I remember the time I worked as an employee of city hall as secretary-receptionist of City Engineer Sydiongco. I took a sick leave but when I went back to work, the person in charge of the payroll told me to claim my salary which included the days that I had been absent. When that payroll went up for his approval, he immediately had it cancelled and scolded me for not knowing any better by signing it. He would truly be an anachronism in this age where high officials in public service are quick to cash in on the perks of their office. Tatay was the son of a farmer in Burauen (a town an hour’s ride away from Tacloban). He was an outstanding pupil and was was able to enroll at the Leyte High School with the help of one of his teachers who sponsored his studies. He had a brilliant mind and always topped his class. His hometown considered him as one of its brightest. He was the editor-in-chief of the Leytean (the high school newspaper). It was a position that decades later, my older sister Ellen held and much later, it was mine, too. My father also contributed articles to the Phil. Free Press of his time. When I discovered the written word – he’d edit my work, limiting it to grammar and mechanics. As for content and style – I was on my own. When he started teaching law at the Leyte Colleges, he authored law books. I used to peek into those tomes noticing that all the rest of my siblings had a volume dedicated to them. I used to feel bad that not one was for me (I was in grade school then) and I thought maybe the one he’d dedicate to me would be done last. I was never able to check if this came to be, but if it didn't’t I take comfort in the thought that maybe he felt that I didn't’t need any of that since I would be by-lining my own work someday. (I may have done that already but not yet the kind of writing that makes a ‘real’ writer) During this time of his youth, he was a member of a band that played for hire in town socials. He played the banduria and was adept at reading musical notes. If he had the means to own a piano then, he would have taught himself to play it. (when he retired from government service, it was the first thing he bought with his retirement check). He used to coach me in singing (though I’m not really a singer, just on those times when nobody wanted to sing during school programs, and I would be ‘it’) As a student, it wasn't’t easy being in the shadow of my father. Teachers, who were his colleagues or just acquainted with him, as well as other relatives, expected a lot from me. Some folks were unkind, often saying whenever I’d achieve academic distinctions that it was only because of favoritism. And when I didn't’t, it was worse because they’d say that I was just lazy or that I ought to be ashamed of myself for not living up to expectations. (In the words of my nephew JR of this text generation, ‘malupit talaga!’) But I was consoled by the fact that Tatay never did push us into being distinctive achievers but only to become what we were capable of being. I knew that he was there to support us even to the extent of taking on a full teaching load in law night school so he could afford us better educational opportunities. I realized much later that the extra compensation wasn't’t his only reason for doing so – he really loved to teach and doing this at the l.C. law school where government employees enrolled was his way of helping others like him rise up from the ranks. Tatay finished high school when the American regime with its army of educators, the Thomasites, were keen on the recruitment of teachers so that a broader base of Filipinos could be educated. High school grads were already qualified and my father entered public service as a school teacher. He taught in his hometown of Burauen. My mother was his student in the 7th grade. She caught his eye, the courtship started and when they decided to get married, it was Dec. 28 and Innocents’ Day in the Catholic Church calendar. Nobody took their wedding announcement seriously after all, this was Prankster’s Day. But they did and that is how I and six other siblings came to be - the children of Atty. Bernardo B. Agustin and the former Hilaria M. Ganata. 
I got this reply to a remark I made to to the word 'sapak' that BelladV used when she commented on my Waray poem (also posted in the santoninooftacloban site) I"m posting it here so my other contacts can read it too. It says a lot of where we warays come from (humorwise).... resumus2 wrote today at 4:14 PM 'Sapak" pa la ngani ito. Wait till you hear the story of a Tagalog visitor who went to the wet market of Tacloban. An ambulant vendor called the visitor's attention by shouting "Tonto! Tonto! Moron!". Of course, we denizens of L.A. (Leyte Area) know that tonto is a type of fish, a succulent fish that's usually grilled. Moron, meanwhile, will pass to the Tagalog as a kakanin. The vendor was simply offering tonto and moron for sale.
The Tagalog took more steps and he found himself inside the Old Bus Terminal. There he saw a bus that carried the destination signage "Inopacan". He could not help but ask, "Bakit? Sino ang inupakan?" Baga guihap han "sasapakin", ano?
The visitor sat on a chair to rest his aching feet. He tried to gather himself.
But it did not take long before his reverie was cut short by two women who were running, shouting, "Anay! Anay! Anay!" They were running after a bus that was about to leave. Dumalagan guihap an baloglog, asking along the way, "Nasaan? Nasaan ang mga anay!"
Finally, the Tagalog took a bus that would take him to Ormoc. He did not want to go insane in Tacloban. Along the way, he ate Chiz Curls, his favorite, to calm him down. It was a two-hour journey from Tacloban to Ormoc and, sometimes he would squirm on his seat and scratch his balls. May sumakay nga babayi, vendor na liwat, ngan dumaop kan baloglog, "Itlog mo, 'noy, orange". Dinhi na nadismayo an aton bisita nga Tagalog. He could only manage to say to the vendor, "Ha? Bakit mo nalaman?"
I had forgotten that some of my nephews and nieces (gosh – even my children) are not waray-speakers, much less readers. However, I wish that eventually they will if only to acknowledge and appreciate their roots. For them and for those who drop by who are non-Warays – this English translation. When the Rains Stop The rain keeps falling and the gleeful children cavort like frogs after the long summer drought. I search for a little boy sailing paperboats in the puddles. but he’s gone – the joker that is Time took him to the bigger playground of Life…. too engrossed, he forgot to come back. But sometimes, when little hands prod for help with paperboats and sailing them in the muddy waters – the man is a boy again, tireless at play and soaking in the rain. At nightfall, he sadly vanishes on hearing the cacophony of frogs in concert when the rains stop.
 Paghuraw han Uran
Sige la’t pag-inuran, maglipayon an kabataan nga baga hin mga pakla pagkahuman han halaba nga huraw.
 Guin bibiling ko hi Idoy nga nagpipinalutaw hin papel nga baruto. Waray na hiya – guin kuha han ma-intremis nga panahon nga di pa takda para magmulay didto ha mas dako nga murulayan han kinabuhi. Namalanga - waray na umuli.
Pero usahay nanunumdum, nabalik kun kinukubit hin guti-ay nga kamot nga napabulig paghimo hin papel nga baroto ngan napaopod pagpalutaw hini ha lasaw.
 Nabalik an kasanhi
hi Mano – Idoy na liwat waray kaguolan bisan mahulos hin pagminulay.  Pagsirom, nawara hi Idoy pakabati niya han nagkikinayabag
na konsyerto han mga pakla paghuraw han uran..........
 What was one doing in a trade exposition when one doesn’t have any business acumen - much more an establishment (except the mind-your-own-business sort) - checking it out for stuff to file for future reference – that’s what and for the ‘pluses’ that goes with them!!!
That’s exactly what I did with Niña and Cherry (who called it a day after one patient early last Friday morning). We taxied off to the Cebu International Convention Center (built for the ASEAN summit two years ago) to sample the latest offerings of the 3-in-1 trade expo sponsored by Philbex [construction] Cefbex [food] and the Cebu Auto Show.  We did the auto show on the ground floor first. Niña and I chose a car – more for it’s color than anything else. I wanted to buy it on the spot but the staff minding the display didn’t have change for my mega-bucks – so we contented ourselves posing beside it. [lol] Before proceeding to the 2nd level we had a photo op in the lovely pond back of the center… Then it was the food expo where a cooking demo was on-going and other food/beverage sampling. Came upon the Krua Thai booth and thought of Bella, my bff [in the lingo of this text generation, this means best friends forever] here in multiply who’s based in Thailand. I had already sampled the cuisine of Thailand in this food outlet when it first opened in Cebu in the late ‘90s. Cathy’s ad agency did their graphics and advertising needs. So, what can I say about KruaThai’s food – everything Spice and Nice!  We wended our way thru an on-going contest in product displays towards the opposite wing where the Philbex exhibits were. There were other ‘how-to’ seminars and lectures in the different function rooms of the center- on the likes of designer coffees, specialty breads, pralines to die for, wine appreciation, etc…We had to skip them for lack of time though.  We chanced upon this abstract sculpture in the lobby and paused and posed for Cherry’s celfone cam. The Philbex exhibit was the usual one of the latest in home construction fixtures but what caught my fancy were the colorful decorative/functional panels that could easily transform the ambience of a home. We got treated to free copies of the interior design magazine HSH (Home Sweet Home). They’re a real visual treat, all nine back issues - for this Asian magazine published in Malaysia doesn’t scrimp on pictorials.  We were in for more treats from the show sponsors when we turned in our visitor’s card before exiting the expo. We got to choose a colored ball from a box and brought home a huge umbrella that we could take to the beach or keep a crowd of us out of the rain. Niña got a calculator with built-in ruler which she can use in school to do her sums (if her Math teacher allows it). So, go to the next trade expos when they’re in your area. You see a lot, learn a lot, and who knows, you may just become a business entrepreneur too! And there might even be freebies to take home..........
[I found this among some old news clippings that I was about to discard. Thank God I paused awhile to re-read it and thought that it is just as relevant (even more so in this day and age when we have a nation that is gradually being consumed by a moral decay....) Read it and think if it is really the answer to the perplexing question of – “what is wrong with the world today?”] 
Mean Moms
Someday when my children are old
enough to understand the logic that
motivates a parent, I will tell them:
I loved you enough to insist...you tell me
where you were going, with whom, and
what time you would be home.
I loved you enough…. to insist
that you save your money and buy a
bike for yourself even though we could
afford to buy one for you.
I loved you enough…to be
silent and let you discover that your
new best friend was a creep.
I loved you enough…to make
you go pay for the bubble gum you had
taken and tell the clerk, “I stole this
yesterday and want to pay for it.”
I loved you enough….to stand
over you for two hours while you
cleaned your room, a job that should have
taken 15 minutes.
I loved you enough….to let you
see anger, disappointment and tears
in my eyes. Children must learn that
their parents aren’t perfect.
I loved you enough….to let you
assume the responsibility for your
actions even when the penalties were so
harsh they almost broke my heart.
But most of all, I loved you enough….
to say NO when I knew you would hate me for it.
Those were the most difficult battles of all.
I’m glad I won them, because in
the end you won, too.
And someday when your children
are old enough to understand the logic
that motivates parents, you will tell
them……
Was your Mom mean? I know mine
was. We had the meanest mother in
the whole world! While other kids ate
candy for breakfast, we had to have
cereal, eggs and toast. When others had
a Pepsi and a Twinkle for lunch, we
had to eat sandwiches. And you can
guess our mother fixed us a dinner that
was different from what other kids had, too.
Mother insisted on knowing
where we were at all times. You’d think
we were convicts in a prison. She
had to know who our friends were, and
insisted that if we said we would be gone
for an hour, we would be gone for an
hour or less.
We were ashamed to admit it,
but she had the nerve to break
Child Labor Laws by making us work. We
had to wash the dishes, make the beds,
learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry,
empty the trash and all sorts of cruel jobs.
I think she would lie awake at night thinking
of more things for us to do.
She always insisted on us telling
the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth. By the time we were
teenagers, she could read our minds.
Then, life was really tough!
Mother wouldn’t let our friends just honk the
horn when they drove up. They had to
come up to the door so she could meet them.
While everyone else could date when they were
12 or 13, we had wait until we were 16.
Because of our mother we missed
out on lots of things other kids
experienced. None of us have ever been caught
shoplifting, vandalizing other’s property or ever
arrested for any crime. It was her fault.
Now that we have left home,
we are all educated, honest adults. We
are doing our best to be mean parents just
like Mom was.
I think that is what’s wrong with
the world today. It just doesn’t
have enough MEAN MOMs.
 | BABAE... | May 12, '08 6:32 AM
for everyone |
Here's another jewel of a song. The other one of the two that I borrowed from Carabuena's site.
Thank you for the music, Teresa.....
Link
I have a confession to make. I sneaked into the site of my daughter Cathy's friend and found this gem of a song. It is that kind of music that not only tugs but pulls on the maternal heartstrings.
I know You'll love it, I swear.... that's why I'm sharing it with you.
 A Letter from a daughter… (Mother's Day '92)
Dearest Mommy, We’ve always felt lucky you stay home looking After us instead of working in an office. But now, with Mother’s day just a couple of days away, we wish that You did so we can carry out planned surprises (knowing How you love them – the pleasant ones, that is…..) Thank god tomorrow’s a Sunday. Dad agreed
to baby-sit You. He’ll take you to church and visit the
mall until lunchtime And then – the surprise!  You’ll come home to a house sparkling clean. You can Wipe your hanky on the furniture it will still be white.
 The table will be festively laden – (we'll see if Cathy deserves her 95 in H.A.)
The vases will be full of the choicest blooms. Big brother will be an early bird for once to buy them. The younger kids will be spic and Span and at their most angelic behavior for I'm doing Mary Poppins.
  Ah, tomorrow – I can hardly wait to see you beaming with pleasure and probably wishing that it’s mother’s day everyday. We could Fulfill that wish – but all work and no play makes for dull kids. Surely you wouldn't’ want that. Teasing aside, though I won’t promise to be an everyday angel – I’ll try because I do love you!  - CMR Ps – you’ll get this letter tonight, ‘cause the only way you’ll get to read this is when you peek into my diary and that’s off-limits!
Thoughts On Motherhood I was clearing the drawers of some paper clutter when I came across letters from a long ago Mother’s Day - mine to my mother and the other from a daughter to me. I am not sure now if that letter for my Mom got sent. I recall that I did send it but to a Mother’s Day letter writing contest where it was chosen the best letter. Since it was a local contest and was published by a local daily, she wouldn’t have been able to read it. She was then living where she’d always been in the family residence in Tacloban (we were already based in Cebu) This was written in 1989 but its sentiments remain as heartfelt as they did then, being of the kind that we sons and daughters have for the person to whom we are beholden with our very lives. My Mama passed away several years ago and I hope that somehow publishing this here, it will reach her where she is now at peace. 
“Dearest Mama, The kids are unruly this morning. I am ready to give up but thoughts of you come unbidden - of your
patient loving care when when I was growing up.
I feel ashamed of myself. For where would I be now if you had merely given up when it wasn't’t even halfway in the morning? Soon, I shall be starting lunch. Oh, if only one could raise a family by recipe! Just like cooking – measuring by tablespoonfuls or cupfuls various ingredients to make delicious dishes. But you’ve taught me by example that it'll never work that way. There cannot be only so much love or only so much
giving. Love has to be given unmeasured - without counting
the cost or setting the timer for regulation. Today is a good moment to thank you, not only for
the valuable lessons in motherhood - but more for the gift of
life and love you give and continue giving to this day.
I could fill up pages upon pages but they will never express the sentiments of a lifetime. I could give you all the gifts, but they will only be tokens of my love. To be the kind of mother that you are will be the best tribute that I can offer you today and always.
I Love You, Ding
I got this beautiful slideshow of Vincent Van Gogh paintings reeling off to the music and lyrics of Don McClean's Vincent in an e-mail and I just had to share it.
I have a personal association to the song. My firstborn son was Colin Vincent. He was a premature baby and lived for only three days. He was beautiful. To borrow a line from the song - "this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you (him)....."
Here, take a look and be enchanted with the full expressionist that Van Gogh was....Listen to the song and feel the anguish of the artist... Attachment: VanGogh.pps
  My daughter Cathy's home is a collector's haven. Her myriad collections - books, DVDs, clowns and artworks are strewn all over the place. Among her artworks is a growing collection of original paintings and sketches done by her artist-friends some of whom have already made it to the national art scene. But my favorite in her collection is a framed poster of Cosette - the young girl icon of Les Miserables.
Cosette became an instant personal favorite when I saw and heard her sing 'Castle On A Cloud' in a video of Les Miserables. Last Saturday evening, at Cathy's birthday dinner, I sought her out in the bedroom where she's framed and hung. I just couldn't help observing that two of my granddaughters could have easily modelled for that poster.
Take a look at Junjun's little Cosettes - Nicole and Denise Marie....
A luminous cross lighted
the darkest hour of Calvary.
I beheld it in a nightmare
in the moment before
a faint ray of the sunrise
touched sleepy eyelids
on an Easter morning.
Drawn back drapes reveal
a patch of lilies triumphantly blooming
in the unweeded garden, its fragrance heady with
the scent of His recycled resurrection.
I gaze transfixed
at the white shroud of forgiveness
blanketing the sins of man's commission and
a thought comes unbidden -
if He went far beyond Calvary
to fulfill the promise of salvation,
I can bear the smaller crosses
of my own making and endure each
crucifixion in this seemingly endless
cycle of lenten crosses
and easter lilies.
(*)(*)(*)(*)
*)(*
*)(*
*)(*
|
|
