..and went home with a pocketful of sunshine. (Or fine, an SD cardful of sun flares.)

There are no further words.

And there it was, the answer to the same question that’s been eating me up the past couple of weeks, and oftentimes making me feel guilty: Is it wrong to be disappointed, and hurt, about what God is doing in my life?

Philip Yancey hit the nail hard in the head with this email (emphasis mine):

It is my firm belief and personal experience that God does not want us to turn into automatons when we decide to follow him. I believe God wants us to come to him with our whole heart, soul and mind, not leaving anything of ourselves stuffed in a closet or relegated to the back shelf. Therefore, we will bring the struggles of our will vs. his will to the relationship with God, just as in any other relationship. I can think of numerous examples in the Bible where this was true, and the person involved was disappointed but chose to accept God’s will over his own. Think of Paul and his thorn in the flesh. Or of David, longing and pleading for his and Bathsheba’s son not to die. Or Abraham and Sarah wanting a child before they were old and gray. We can go on on and on with the examples of deferred gratification in favor of God’s best. The best response to your question is to recommend the book of Psalms: it’s full of disappointment, even anger, yet has been the believers’ prayer book through the centuries. That says it well, I think.

~ Philip Yancey, in his answer to Anjie’s email. Via Godspotted. Thanks, Ate Stef for sharing this.

Over and over again I come face to face with the undeniable truth that trusting God means being ready for whatever His will is, whether it’s exactly as you prayed for or something totally the opposite.

It’s a recurring lesson we have to keep learning. And I’m really just thankful that we have a patient God who doesn’t mind us crying and whining and asking Him questions, until we find ourselves on our knees, in complete surrender, fully convinced that there really is no other place we’d rather be but right where He wants us to be.

So hey, I’m not saying I’m glad my disappointments are justified. I’m saying I thank God that His ways are higher than our ways, that He allows us to break sometimes, but that no amount of disappointment or heartache can ever bend His sovereign will in our lives.

I don’t know if it’s a girl-thing, but I have this peculiar ability of attaching memories to places. I remember places by the way they once made me feel, or by memories I thought I already forgot. It’s a curse and a gift at the same time. Curse, because even when I don’t want to remember what happened here or there, I can’t help but do. Gift, because that also means that I get to contain memories in places, hence avoiding those places will ultimately make me forget and help me move on.

Exhibit A. Sometime in 2006, I had to avoid Greenbelt for one whole year because I had to forget a college boyfriend. Typical, I know, but effective nonetheless. Exhibit B. In 2007 when my Dad died, I had to avoid being in his office for a couple of months because it’s impossible to be there and not cry over the reality that we’re never going to see him there ever again. Exhibit C. In my last day in New York in 2008, I had to ask the cab driver to pass by 34th street on the way to the airport. Just one last ride through my most favorite spots in Manhattan, I thought, because I knew that after that ride I would start to forget. And that time I didn’t want to forget just yet.

In the past 5 years that I lived in Ortigas, Pasig, my moving from one apartment to another was characterized by some huge transition in my life — my Dad’s death, that big career move, a relationship that ended badly, etc — as if it’s become a coping mechanism of sorts. Consciously or unconsciously, I wasn’t quite sure. I just know that for me to be able to transition, I had to start over in a new place, akin to flipping a fresh new page in a notebook.

Six is the number of apartments here in Pasig that I moved in and out of in the span of 5 years. Anyone can beat that record? If moving is a degree in college, it would’ve been time for me to graduate by now. But I guess it’s not time to graduate from this moving around just yet.

In all this apartment-hopping, Delgado Place was where I stayed the longest. Not only was this low-rise condominium the prettiest and the most secured I’ve ever lived in, it’s also the one place that actually felt like second home to me. The guards and caretakers have become an extended family. “Adobo To”, that karinderya (eatery) across the street, has become my most favorite lunch hangout.

I loved living here. I honestly believed I would stay longer, that this was going to be my last stop, but hey, life’s funny that way. Often, the things you thought you were so sure of, you find out later, are just mere phases in your life. Nothing is certain, I learn over and over, so you’ll have to be ready to pack-up, leave the unnecessary baggage behind and go when God says it’s time to go.

Tomorrow I make my 7th move. I have been feeling sentimental about it the past two weeks, boxing up everything in this room that once made it feel like home. But I’m almost ready, and excited to make new memories in the next city I’m going to conquer.

“..and with that, we say goodbye to Delgado Place,” Mae tweeted after she & Joni spent one last night here in Delgado with me. Glad to know I’m not the only one sad to leave this place behind.

So yeah. Thank you, Delgado Place, I just had to say (and blog). It was lovely spending 2008 and 2009 under your roof.

There’s something undeniably refreshing about being around kids. Sure, they can be little monsters in their worst days and can be quite a handful at times. But their silly questions, wide-eyed curiosity, and their ability to make you appreciate the simplest of things is a real source of joy — that I can attest to.

You see, I started handling a Sunday School class in church yesterday. And for the next couple of Sundays, I get to have this wonderful job of sharing Bible stories to pre-schoolers, thinking of activities that they will enjoy, and babysitting them while their parents attend the Worship Service.

I didn’t really think I have the patience and attention span required to handle such responsibility, but time calls forth little changes in this life of mine and I have to make conscious efforts to get out of my zone and do stuff I was too complacent to try. Sad to admit, quarter life has so far made me bitter, overly serious, lonely and overworked, and I srsly need something to take me out of this rut I’m in.

So yeah. I signed up for this job in hopes of getting some sunshine back to my once-sunshiney self.

And trust me when I say that I see something wrong with that too because hey, as a Sunday School teacher, you should be the one putting something in the plate and ministering to the kids, right, and here I go looking at these kids as if they’re a bunch of therapists. Perhaps that’s the thing that has drawn me towards this ministry — you reach out to these kids hoping that they pick up little somethings out of the Bible stories you share to them and your funny interactions in class, but in hindsight, they’re actually the ones making a huge difference in your life. And the fact that they’re actually unconscious about it (that they’re instrumental to bringing forth answers to your adult life’s issues and dramas) makes the whole thing even more.. heaven-sent.

Sunday School to me is an answered prayer in every way.

Time and time again I get to be reminded why Jesus loves little children, and why He wants us to keep that childlike faith. Because children are happy little people. They have the most genuine smiles. They listen attentively, laugh much, say what’s in their minds. They ask a lot of questions, they seek for answers. They cling on and ask for help when they don’t know what to do, without any pretensions nor pride. They trust blindly, believe wholly, love easily.

I’m happy for the opportunity to have some of their sunshine rub in on me.

Edit. Thanks, Ate Jam, for sharing this verse:

1 At that time the disciples came up and asked Jesus, “Who then is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

2 And He called a little child to Himself and put him in the midst of them,

3 And said, “Truly I say to you, unless you repent [change, turn about] and become like little children, you can never enter the kingdom of heaven [at all].

4 Whoever will humble himself therefore and become like this little child [trusting, lowly, loving, forgiving] is greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

5 And whoever receives and accepts and welcomes one little child like this for My sake and in My name receives and accepts and welcomes Me.”

Matthew 18:1-5

(This is an obligatory 2009 Starbucks Planner post.)

Have you got your SB planner yet? Got mine about a week ago, and currently halfway through the second sticker card.

I’m not crazy about this year’s planners, I actually don’t dig the calendar’s experimental vertical format. But since about 5 or 6 years ago, collecting Starbucks stickers has become something like putting up Christmas trees in December. It’s irresistible, it’s tradition, it’s something you just have to do because hey, you go to Starbucks like, everyday, anyway.

Now what I’m really crazy about is Toffee Nut Latte. Ahh. Just saying its name out loud makes me crave. Up to now I still don’t understand why it’s available only during the Holidays. Then again, it’s a reason (one of the many) for me to look forward to this time of the year.

So forget all my sad thoughts about Christmas, there are just a lot of reasons to celebrate, and to be happy, and to be filled with hope whenever this time of the year comes by. (That’s a schizo moment right there, I’m preaching to myself, don’t mind me.)

I think I’m ready to face December now.

I totally blew it and ate my words, huh?

Well this I had to do! Call it QLC or hormones or holiday fever, whatever — I woke up this morning with my eyes set on one goal: Pull out that box containing last year’s Christmas decorations from one of the kitchen cupboards, and put up this little Christmas tree. I know it’s not even Thanksgiving yet in the US, but I kinda feel that this Christmas season will pass by really quick and I just don’t want to miss out on it, is all.

So hi, it’s Christmas in Unit 507, come visit!

Truth is, I actually had fun doing this little activity of mine today. But I also have to admit.. I still think that Christmas comes with this unexplainable melancholy, no matter how I look at it. And if you’re in the mood for more confessions, I did shed a tear or two tonight, in the dark, once I switched on the twinkling lights and I was left with my thoughts, and memories of past Christmases and of things that I cannot anymore change.

But I wouldn’t bore you about with thoughts anymore. Coz I care about my reputation, and your insanity. So yeah, I think these photos will suffice. Besides, it’s almost 5:00 AM. Who blogs about sad things at 5:00AM anyway?

Not me.

(P.S. To everyone of you who worries that my house will catch fire anytime soon, please, find peace in knowing that I have fire extinguisher. And that I won’t fall asleep and/or leave the house with these light bulbs left switched on. Promise. )

Tonight I went home from a dinner date with my Mom and brother with two boxes of Christmas lights, yay. And please don’t point out how I just recently blogged (with full conviction) that Christmas lights are evil. I like contradicting myself sometimes.

Like now, because I’ve always wanted to do this, even before I saw Zooey Deschanel’s bed in (500) Days of Summer:

Aren’t they pretty? :) I think they look pretty on my vintage-wannabe bed (delivered last week from a department store sale). More reasons to stay in bed now, heh.

Tomorrow, I put up the Christmas tree. :D

(Oh hai, Mum, don’t worry, I’ll make sure to turn the lights off before I sleep, in case you’re worried that my bed would catch fire.)