The Final Blow (My LMT Testimony)

It's been three days after the Leaders' Mobilization Training (LMT) and as is the custom, I've been meaning to write a blog detailing my highlights. Yet what and how do I write when everything I have and am still experiencing and feeling are beyond words?

And so when my dear, beautiful discipler asked me for a one-paragraph testimony (for her newsletter.. I'm pretty sure your disciplers would be asking you for something like this too) about the LMT, I thought and thought and thought and scrunched up my eyebrows and came up with this:

"I’ve been thinking of what to do after graduation since the start of this school year. It was a struggle for me trying to decide which pathway to pursue. Thankfully, through circumstances and people I met, God slowly changed my heart and helped me arrive at a decision. He had worked and hammered and chiseled at my heart throughout the semester. The LMT / MIMIC was the final blow – it was there that I finally knew for sure in my heart, soul and mind that my decision to be a Volunteer missionary with Campus Crusade for Christ after graduation is my calling. I am eternally grateful for the LMT; everything about it spoke to me in a special way, from the Devotions, Sessions and Seminars, and the simple talks and fellowship. The LMT was unlike any other retreat or camp I've ever been to; I was especially moved by our speaker, ate Germaine Santos' life testimony and fervency to serve God. I was thoroughly challenged to take a stand for my generation and help fulfill the Great Commission."

God is really, really great, good and amazing.

Flashes

  [Dedicated to the UPB CCC Core 2010]


As most of you may know, I attended a Leadership Mobilization Training. The venue was in Bolinao, Pangasinan, and we had to leave Baguio at around 4:40am. Take note, Typhoon Juan had only barely left the Northern Philippine region, and so during the entire bus ride we experienced drizzles to lashing rain. But before the rain lashes, there were the thunder and lightning.

We were driving with the solid mountain wall on our left side of the road. On our right side of the road is the edge of the cliff -- a sheer, long drop. Without any light, the right side of the road was a big black nothing. But then came the rumbling roar of the thunder -- and then the glorious crack and flash of lightning. And for a split second, a portion of the cliff and mountain side was illuminated. It was a magnificent sight -- every crevice, tree, and rock exposed. And then it was dark again.

For an hour, the lightning flashes came and went, and I excitedly awaited each flash.

I believe that a person, a human being, is a complex creation, full of mystery, and getting to know a person - really getting to know them completely - is a task that requires much patience and, I believe, divine intervention. And over the years I have come to the definite conclusion that truly learning about a person is next to impossible. Only the Creator can truly know each of His creation.

And so when it comes to trying to learn about a person, we are left groping in the dark with only our imaginations and ideas to satisfy ourselves with. But thank the Maker, we are given intermittent flashes of who each person really is. Short flashes they are, but very revealing. You would have had to be paying attention, because if you hadn't, you would have missed your chance. And there is no knowing when the next flash will come.

Last Tuesday, at our Core meeting in Figaro, I felt that God had given me illuminating flashes of each Core member's life. I almost missed them, these glorious flashes. Thankfully, I was nudged to keeping my eyes open to these flashes which gave me glimpses of who each of us really is.

I marveled at everything you shared. I rejoiced at your victories and triumphs. I was in awe of your many spiritual and wise insights. And my heart ached for your struggles.

Indeed, they were but glimpses, but glorious glimpses they were.

I shall keep my eyes open for more of these flashes. In case it still isn't obvious, let me tell you -- I love you guys. I really, really do.

"By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love on another." John 13:35

Storm + No electricity + Evenings = Prayerfulness

First, I thank God that typhoon Juan has passed our area. Juan has indeed left, but not without leaving destruction on many people's livelihoods and jeopardizing a LOT of plans. Here I am still reeling from the news my disciples had given me about not being permitted by their parents to attend the Leaders' Mobilization Training (LMT) because of the bad weather. Sigh. I wanna cry. Seriously. I need a shoulder, anyone?


How such situations like these where I am powerless leave me sooo frustrated... and restless!

Like yesterday, electricity was out, prompting an all-afternoon Dutch Blitz Competition and Championship - participated in by all Lawagan siblings. Of course I won three out of the four consecutive rounds (scored - raise to 100 points) we had. Oh, what fun.

And because there was nothing else to do after dinner, I went to bed at 6:30pm. SIX THIRTY! A record, if I might say so. Electricity -- or the absence of it, does wonders. Add to that complete darkness, and you get something else: Prayerfulness (if such a word exists).

After turning in at six thirty, I was suddenly jolted awake sometime in the middle of the night. I realized, in my half-asleep state, that an unnatural light was shining through my windows. That could only mean one thing. I looked out to confirm it -- yes! Streetlamps were on! Electricity's back! I quickly turned on the lights and walked out my room, turning on every switch on the way down to the comfort room. And so I got back in bed, with the lights all switched off again, reveling at the fact that God answered my prayer (been praying on and off the whole day that the power would return), the streetlamp outside suddenly flickered, and went dead. Hmm. (I honestly think God turned the lights on just so I could conveniently relieve myself in the toilet. lol)


I tried to sleep, but alas! It would not! And just as every Christian does when darkness reigns supreme - literally and figuratively - I prayed.

I prayed for the Little Kibungan villagers who were evacuated to the Puguis area, in an attempt to avoid last year's tragedy.

I prayed especially for Reyjean and Lynx, and all the other delegates who were in danger of not being permitted to attend the LMT.

I prayed that the weather would clear tomorrow (which is today).


I prayed we would arrive safely at Bolinao.

I prayed for a whole lot of things I do not remember now.

I think I spent at least two hours alternately trying to sleep, sitting up and looking out the window, and praying. And when I thought I had finally exhausted all prayer points, I did what anybody with a touch screen MyPhone would do: I played Magic Sushi. All. Night. Long.


Funny, when I met up with staffs this afternoon, they told me they had done the same thing all afternoon and all night long. Praying, that is. Not playing Magic Sushi.

Yesterday, our breakfast hatched.

Yesterday, our breakfast hatched. Literally.

One of the eggs we were supposed to have for breakfast for the next few days hatched. And no, it's not like it wasn't touched or anything already. I mean, how would you bring an egg from its nest to the egg rack without touching it and shaking it up, right? (I read somewhere that eggs have to be left alone if you want them turned into fully fledged chicks)

But there it was, a fledgling of a chick poking its way out of the shell, hanging on for dear life. No, I didn't see it with my own eyes. My sisters did, and now I am beginning to regret that I didn't spare a minute of my oh-so-precious time to witness this miracle.

We were all upstairs, doing our thing, and my mom kept whining about this loud chirping sound she had been hearing for ten minutes or so. She thought that one of our chicks (my dad raises native chickens) had somehow stolen into our house. And like the good, nice daughters that we were, we told her that it was impossible.

And then Bency (sister next to me) finally took it upon her to find the source of the chirping sound that even I had begun to find irritating and disturbing. And then there she saw it -- a chick beating its beak and tiny little feathery wings against the shell, which was in the egg rack, which was placed on top of our refrigerator. (Shame I didn't get a picture of it.)

And now for the moral of this anecdote (which I just really feel this anecdote should contain): if that doesn't display hope, resistance and resilience, I don't know what does. Really, that egg was destined for the frying pan and my stomach for the next day. And then it goes defying death and the odds. How amazing is that? I mean, seriously?! (We've long concluded that the heat from the refrigerator top was what incubated the egg.)

Admittedly, I didn't initially react that way. My first thought when I found that out yesterday was -- "That is plain creepy. Imagine your breakfast suddenly coming alive?"

In retrospect, though, I've come to think of it as cute, amazing, and even containing a bit of majesty and mystery. Really amazing.

Now, if the meat destined to be my lunch moves in the freezer, I would really be creeped out.

Future Talk

She sat there, finishing her meal, while I stirred my hot chocolate. The silence was prevailing... and then suddenly, I thought, why not ask now? So I raised my mug, partly obscuring her view of my face.


"So, should I take the LAE*?" I asked her for the nth time this semester.


"When is it?"


"November 12 is the deadline of submission of forms. Should I take it?"


"Why, sure. Yes."


"But I don't want to. I want to take up another degree. But not law." It's not that I didn't believe I could handle it. I know I could.


"You don't want to be a lawyer? What do you want to take up?" Taking up law is fine, but... I doubt if I would have as much fun as taking up --


"Film. I want to take up Film." There. I said it.


"Film? Why do you want that?"


"Well, I want to be a filmmaker. But not now. I'll take it up after a year. First, I'll be volunteering. And then I'll go to film school."


She was finishing the last of her meal. I looked at her, finding a response. But she just stood up and brought her plate to the kitchen. I restrained myself from asking "Is that okay? Are my plans okay with you?"


I remained seated and sipped my chocolate. I figured she still must be processing this. I smiled to myself, knowing I have a lot to process myself.

SIGH.