Last night, I let go one of Alphonse’s nannies.

I’ve never really had much luck with household help. In all the years A and I have been married, we’ve only had one really good person come into our lives, and even then, she left to get married and raise a family of her own. Of course, I don’t expect them to stay forever, but given the way they are treated as family in our home, and not as help or employees, I always expect better but I never seem to get it.

In the last few months that I’ve been sidelined by this neck injury, I’ve had to rely on Nannies L, D, and B more and more for Alphonse’s care. When he wakes up in the mornings, they are usually ready to take him off my hands. The routines he and I used to share together — eating, bathing, dressing, getting ready, learning — have been replaced by their own routines for preparing for the day. And long after his lessons are done, they are there to keep him company, keep him safe, keep him loved. Or so I thought.

In the past week, however, we’ve noticed Alphonse’s reluctance to go with Nanny L in the mornings. He would cling to me, oftentimes hooking his arms around my neck to keep him from being pulled away. He would inadvertently cause me more pain but the more they tried to pry him away, the more he clung to me. I thought it was just another phase of separation anxiety until I found out the truth.

I received these distressing news last night. Nanny L had told me a few weeks ago that she would going home this Christmas to her family. Her father was gravely ill, she claimed, and she was needed at home. A week ago, she changed her mind suddenly, claiming that her father did not seem that ill after all. Yesterday, I found out that her father was not ill after all (she made it up only to set the stage for leaving) but she  changed her mind because her boyfriend was coming to Manila. I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.  

The lies were already bad enough but it gets worse. Apparently, whenever Alphonse would shout, she would clamp her hands down on his mouth. When he would jump around, she would kick his shins to keep him from jumping. And when he would refuse to obey her, she would hit him with quick little slaps on the mouth. I asked the other nannies about this and when confronted, they both broke down and corroborated these. Nanny L crossed the one line I kept sacred in my household — no one ever hurts my children.

Nanny L had been part of our household for close to two years and I trusted her to care for Alphonse while I was injured. It hurts to be betrayed.  It hurts to find out that the person you let in your home and treated as one of your own will hurt your child. And it hurts that I have not been able to see the signs sooner.

While I am waiting to save enough money for more Sylvanian Families authentic furniture, I am busy at work modifying cheap plastic doll furniture to add to my remodels. The work has been derailed temporarily because of the flu (the coughing strains my neck, stiffens it more, and makes it #$%@ painful) so in the meantime, I busy myself with papering the houses or making small accessories.

I love that cheap plastic furniture, or those that go for PhP50 or about US$1 per set, can become quite chic when repainted. Since I’ve been accumulating houses left and right, I’ve been hard pressed to furnish them all with appropriate pieces. Unfortunately, original SF furniture cost an arm and a leg and can create quite a hole in the pocket when purchased in bulk. Moreover, Ban Kee Trading, the country’s current SF distributor, has such a limited line of furniture available that  it becomes hard to keep each house unique and distinctive, what with the same things cropping up over and over again in different houses.

Of course, nothing beats the satisfaction of owning the real thing, but the truth is, when it comes to playing, as long as the pieces are there, the fun goes on. 

This is the kitchen sink and stove with oven. I hated the fake colors and the stickers so I opted for a pale shade of green to complement the wallpaper I used in the area. I also repainted the tiles with mixtures of white, yellow, and green to make it more interesting.

The refrigerator, in the same hideous color as the sink and stove, was repainted to match. I flipped the picture so you can see the before and after shots more clearly.

I am very proud of this bed. On the left is its original state, which is not quite as bad as the colors of the other plastic pieces. I repainted it a wooden brown and added gold accents for that English Victorian era feel. I made the mattress out of an old, unused maternity napkin (heehee). The cloth for the bed cover came from old pillow cases. The ruffles were added to make the bed more elegant. I still have to finish sewing the pillow shams.

Repainting the television and component set matte black and silver made it look more real. I have a few glossy cut-outs of old movies I got from magazines and I can simply stick one on the screen to make it seem as if there’s a movie showing.     

This is part of the Oakwood Manor remodel and papering. I made an oriental screen (from illustration board and tracing paper) to separate the bath from the rest of the second floor, but I accidentally destroyed it while coloring in the design. I then opted for curtains that open in the middle, held up by a barbecue stick painted the same color as the walls. The bathroom furniture used to be in a sickeningly purple color so I made it pristine white with paint. I used gold paint as accents for the pieces. While I try to resolve the problem of creating mirrors (suggestions, anyone?), I used foil to make a temporary one. I also made the toilet seat cover and the small rug.

I’m quite happy with the results of my “experiments” on colors and paper. On the days when I am unable to do much of anything at all, I simply look at my dollhouses and let my imagination play.  It’s enough to drive all the blues away.

Happy 15th Birthday, Alphonse, child of our hearts.

You weren’t like other children
and God was well aware
You’d need a caring family
with love enough to share.

And so He sent you to us
and much to our surprise
you haven’t been a challenge
but a blessing in disguise.

Your winning smiles and laughter
the pleasures you impart
far outweigh your special needs
and melt the coldest heart.

We’re proud that we’ve been chosen
to help you learn and grow
the joy that you have brought us
is more than you can know.

A precious gift from Heaven
a treasure from above
a child who has taught us many things
but most of all – “Real Love”.

(author: Sharon Harris)

To A, who has gifted me with more love than anyone can imagine, I hope I am always worthy of your love.

To my sisters Jas and Joee, who have patiently dug inside our family’s old “baul” to look for stuff I can recycle, thanks for putting up with your eccentric older sister.

And to Cynthia and Nancy, thank you for keeping my spirits up and encouraging me during this weird but exciting time.

For over a month now, I have lived and breathed miniatures. My Sylvanian Families collection, which started with one single family on September 15, has grown to include 80 individuals, four Sylvanian houses, two bootleg houses, a hospital, scores of stores and mini-stands, and all the authentic accessories that come with them.

On a daily basis, I spend an hour or two setting them up, making my scripts, playing with them, and taking photographs. When I do get tired (which is quite often these days), I review my photographs and look at the pictures until my Sylvanian appetite is satiated.

My greatest joy, however, comes from making and customizing my own furniture and accessories. Since authentic Sylvanian accessories sets are quite expensive (a sofa, a potted plant, and one character, for example, retails for PhP700 or around US$15), I have taken to filling my homes with homemade furniture or customized pieces.

I am very proud of my handmade creations, prouder still that despite the persistent pain in my hands, I am able to create something functional (that is, “playable”)  and pleasing to the eye.

And so I unveil my first few creations- the living room sofa. Of six houses in my SF village, two have official SF living room sets, but four needed furnishing. I have done three and is in the process of making the fourth sofa and matching armchairs for all sofas. It’s good therapy.

Here is Mama Margaret proudly showing off the scale of two new sofas, one in solid purple and another in red checks. Hmmm… seems she can’t decide which she likes best. 

This is a floral print sofa which I made from a maternity blouse I had when I was pregnant with Alphonse.  The blouse was a gift from my mom. I like that the fabric reminds me of happy times (I was quite pretty during my second pregnancy, unlike the first which had me bloated and splotchy) and I can keep it as a souvenir even if I can no longer wear it. I experimented with curved backrests on this one and it came out rather well. This was a real sacrifice though, because I needed to do sewing for this (ouch!).

If you happen to notice the scrawny plant beside it, well, it’s homemade and recycled too. I used the cover of an empty gel tube in the recycling bin, covered it with moss, and used a glue gun to “plant” the plastic leaves decor from Alphonse’s second birthday cake. (As you can see, I hardly throw anything away, heehee.)

And this is Granny Clementine checking out her newly wallpapered digs (this is the bootleg house). I made the curtains from leftover lace. Baby Kit is on the  jewelry box-turned-bed which I had dismantled and  stained (I still have leftover wood to make a table). I made the cushions and pillow from the same fabric as the sofa to keep the theme.

I have a step-by-step guide to make the sofa which I will post at a later date. I hope you enjoyed my pictures. Come and play with me sometime soon.

Skinny Batman with bored sidekick

When Alex and Alphonse were little kids, dressing them in Halloween costumes was always a fun experience. True, the costumes they had 15 years ago seemed primitive and uninspired compared to today’s more intricate designs, but they were wearable, though not exactly cheap. Alex’s choice would always dictate the theme; if he were dressing up as Batman, then Alphonse would have to be Robin. If Alex were dressing up as Red Ranger, then Alphonse would be Blue Ranger. And if Alex were coming as Ash Ketchum, of course, he needed a Pokemon brother to come with him.

"Go, Go, Power Ranger!" Red Ranger shouts while Blue Ranger has to be dragged along

Sadly, Alphonse hated all his costumes. We couldn’t put a finger on it but something about the costumes- the fabric, the make, the style, we don’t know for sure- was driving him crazy. It was hard enough to put him in them, what with his squirming, whining, and crying. It was harder still to keep him in them. That boy could take off his clothes (underwear too) in three seconds flat, I swear.

When Alphonse turned four and was strong enough to kick the living s**t out of us, we stopped forcing him to wear costumes. Without a buddy to do trick or treating with, Alex lost interest soon thereafter. Sometimes, though, I could sense that he missed this activity too, though he was always quick to deny it. I remember the year he was in fourth grade and he had an elaborate costume of a gray and silver milkfish for a school performance. In the car on the way home, he was so hyped up that he said ”Ma, this would be perfect for halloween. My friends and I can all dress up the same way and we could be a school of fish!”

With his precious smile

It was genius! I was about to agree  with him when he suddenly added, “Oh, yeah, Alphonse hates costumes. He won’t come with me. Never mind, ma…” Nothing I said to him that day could make him reconsider his idea. He hid his milkfish outfit at the bottom of his drawers, much like a sublimated desire. 

So when Alphonse put on his Roman knight garments for a school play years later, it was a time of joyous celebration. We loved this particular milestone so much that we still have pictures of it around the house. We have also used it on our family’s autism awareness campaign.    

This year, Alex had a costume ready for a school play he was writing and directing. When he learned that his little cousin Sese was going trick or treating, he volunteered to come along as an adult companion for the village kids. We knew he wanted to go and wear this particular outfit; he had been wearing it around the house for days, popping out of dark corners and frightening Alphonse’s nannies for fun. But we also knew that he wanted Alphonse to come with him too, to experience another Halloween together.

If all zombies were as goodlooking as this one, I'd volunteer to be eaten alive!

The only costume we could find in the  store nearest to our house barely two hours before trick or treat time was a zombie costume. We knew Alphonse would have issues with it, mostly with the thin strips of cloth that hung around his face. But we held our breath, crossed our fingers, and said a little prayer. Wonder of all wonders, Alphonse wore it with a smile. We were all so proud of him.

What may seem trivial to many “normal” families are exactly the things that define our life with autism. Each moment of happiness is precious; each challenge that we overcome is a source of pride. Halloween may be just another excuse to party, but for us, this year will be remembered long after other years have passed.

From the boys who missed ten years of trick or treats, they’d like to share this proud picture with all of you. 

I needed a BIG pick-me up yesterday. I’ve been stuck in the house for a few weeks now, unable to bear too much movement and traveling.  A, the kids, or the nannies have taken over almost all of my chores. I don’t even do the groceries anymore.

As such, I am always in oversized pajamas around the house. My hair has turned into a drab, mousey mop that hangs long and sticky and refuses any sort of management. What I needed was to get out, dress up, breathe normally, and feel free even for just a few hours.

You know how when you wish for something, the universe always seems to give you so much more?

In my case, it started with two tickets for last night’s Basia concert. A knew I would do anything not to miss the show because it featured two of my all-time favorite artists, The Company and Basia. So even while he was still recovering from the flu, he got up from his sickbed just to go out with me last night. (Thanks, honey!)

And then, because he knew I was feeling unkempt and mousey, he offered to bring me to my hair stylist for a quick trim. Haircuts always make me feel happy. I think I scared my stylists, though, when I popped in with the cervical collar. Sheryl and the blow-dry man were so careful with my head yesterday that I hardly felt anything My hair is now four inches shorter, but I love it.

And just when I was feeling better about myself, an idea struck me. Nothing makes me feel better than kittified things (next to Sylvanian things, heehee) and my boring, white cervical collar definitely needed some pizzazz to match my upbeat mood. I remembered the patches my friend Cynthia had bought for me in HongKong a few months back and with just the magic of a hot iron, I turned my cervical collar into a thing of Kitty beauty. Now, what could be better than that?

I found this in my comments box this morning when I logged in to check for messages. I thought Stella deserved a post of her own, so one hand less notwithstanding, I am posting a reply for her. (One easy thing about posts- one can always cut and paste, heehee. )

Stella’s note reads:

hi, got to read your blog when i was surfing for materials on autism. my six year old daughter was diagnosed with ASD when she was four. although, now she talks and reads very well, even advance of her age in her prep class, she has some of the behaviors you have mentioned in this article — she does not want a pony tail hair, or any hair accessories, does not like going to a parlor for a hair cut, prefers soft and cotton clothes….

i would appreciate if you can help me how to join the autism Society of the Philippines. I am basically living in Surigao City, Mindanao, Phils.

stella

Kittymama’s reply:

Dear Stella,

Thank you for visiting my blog. One of the reasons I keep doing this is that it helps me reach other people in my advocacy for autism. If even once in a while, a reader searching for information on autism stumbles into my blog, picks up a few things and is made all the better for it, then all these would have been worth it.

I hope this answers your query on joining the ASP. I’ve long held the belief that “Autism is not a boat for one.” We all need a little helping hand along the way, be it someone to talk to or even someone to ask questions of.  The world can be an open, encouraging place for parents like us looking for answers- if we only learn to ask. I am certainly happy you did.   

photo from http://upcat.up.edu.ph/htmls/mindanao.html

 Autism Society Philippines has 37 chapters all over the Philippines. Using this map I found via google search, I’ve highlighted the cities with ASP chapters in green to give all of us an idea of where these can be found in relation to your home city, Surigao City, which is highlighted in yellow. 

Below are the contact information for the different Mindanao chapters of ASP as listed in this ASP page.

Tel No: (Off) (083) 302-6745
Fax No: (083) 380-7297
Mobile No: 0915-5598791
Email: msdrqa@mozcom.com

ILIGAN CITY
President: Mr. Miguel Y. Lasala III
III Cuadro Ocho, Inc.
Que Avenue Extension
9200 Iligan City
Telefax No: (063) 492-3873
Mobile No: 0917-7161254
Email: myl111_888@yahoo.com.ph

ZAMBOANGA CITY
President: Ms. Angeli Parmanand
315 Sta. Maria St.
7000 Zamboanga City
Tel No: (062) 993-1617
Mobile No: 0928-9633670
Email: angelieparmanand@yahoo.com

Hope these help you, Stella. I wish you and your daughter all the best,

♥Kittymama

I will try to update this blog for as long as I can. I am typing one-handed these days as the pain in my hands grow. I am working on rebuilding my strength and coping with pain without medication. Thank you to all my friends who have extended well wishes and sent me prayers. I feel your love, my friends. ~♥Kittymama  

MRI machine- designed to torture claustrophobes

I was set to undergo a cervical spine MRI that morning but panic and pain set in. As a plus-sized woman living in a normal-sized world, I barely fit in an MRI machine. A few moments after the technician slid me in, my neck, shoulders and arms started screaming in excruciating pain. I half -expected this; I hadn’t been able to lie down comfortably in weeks since my neck started bothering me. The position required for the test elicited a whole world of pain. I could literally see stars going supernova as waves of nausea rolled through me in succession.

Within seconds, I started panicking too, the feeling of being compressed weighing very heavily on my chest. I felt trapped, crushed, and squeezed in. It was almost like being buried alive.

I asked to be let out right away. I tried to stop from crying and tried to compose myself. I didn’t want anyone to think of me as a wussy. But even while thinking things through rationally, I simply could not will myself to do it. Pain and panic were already my best friends. In the end, I had to be sedated.

Why couldn't we have something like this instead?

I hate MRIs. Being severely claustrophobic certainly made things worse. My husband tried to calm me down, but it was no use, I was a wreck. Even with the prospect of sedation, the mounting anxiety was too overwhelming to control. A reminded me that I needed this- and he was right, of course, he almost always is- and told me to visualize something that would calm me down.

I fell into a deep sleep even before I was completely inside the MRI machine. But as I knew was bound to happen, I woke up during the procedure. I was jammed inside from my head to my thighs. I tried to wiggle the tips of my fingers to show the anesthesiologist that I was awake. Minutes passed and no one came to my aid. I was on the verge of losing it, as panic and pain came back with a vengeance. I felt like clawing my way out, of thrashing and kicking so I could slide back out, but I imagined A talking to me, telling me to calm myself. I breathed deeply and prayed. I closed my eyes, alternately praying and thinking of only soothing things. The next thing I knew, it was all over.

When A saw me a while after, wide-eyed and alert but still anxious and unsteady, he gave me a big hug. I told him what had happened midway through the procedure. And then I told him, that as I closed my eyes after praying, I suddenly thought of Sylvanian Families and imagined playing with them. Weird, but true. He gave a small laugh, then hugged me again.

The Longfellow Family

We went out to dinner that night, my reward, he said, for “doing so well on my MRI test” (A always manages to reward me even for the simplest things — talk about positive reinforcement!). While we waited for the food, he excused himself to pick up a few things. He was gone unusually long but when he returned, he had two small packages which he handed to me. Lo and behold- there they were, my very first Sylvanian family (SF). I could hardly contain my tears. A few days later, on our 18th wedding anniversary, he gave me an entire village.

Robert Fulghum said that “If you break your neck, if you have nothing to eat, if your house is on fire, then you’ve got a problem. Everything else is inconvenience.” When seen from the perspective of the world’s current problems, of my own country’s problems, everything else — even my neck — is merely inconvenience. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned through the years, and even through the disasters of Ondoy and Pepeng, it’s that there is no better relief  for any kind of pain in the world than to receive Love. And this I’ve had real plenty from the one person who has loved me constantly for the past 27 years. I really can’t complain.

My fave accessory- a cervical collar!

So in the middle of this uphill climb to get well again, I concentrate on what keeps me going even on days when the pain is hardest to bear. I am loved. Always loved. Thank you, God.

In the course of writing for Autism Society Philippines, I do a lot of research on my own. On the occasions that I ask for information from ASP, they have always obliged generously. Writing about our performers for Autism Beyond Borders, the 11^th National Conference on Autism, I was surprised to receive not just abstract notes, but complete dossiers on the subjects. I think the term “slumbook” is actually more appropriate, as they brought me back to a time when I had Hello Kitty autograph books with life-altering questions like “What is your favorite motto?”

Reading through these files brought me many moments of tearful gladness. These kids — all individuals with autism — were honest, forthright, and decidedly responsive. Little did I realize, however, that reading through them would also bring me moments of sadness. The gift these children all have is one that my son was denied of — the gift of free and willing expression in any shape or form. 

There’s Buboy, the spunky eight-year-old singing champion of Hopewell Integrated School. Buboy is Robert Meigh T. Dolor, a child wonder who won his first singing contest at the unbelievable age of three! Last July 23, he bested other contestants in the Cavite Special Mini-Olympics.

John David Capistrano Garcia, or Johnvid, as he is fondly called, is a member of the Children Youth Choir and counts singing as one of his favorite hobbies aside from basketball and chess. This 10-year-old crooner from Christ Life Learning Center is a regular pizza-and-chicken boy, but bananas are not among his favorite things in the world.

Thara Marie Sakhrani Santiago is our aspiring Broadway actress. This 12-year-old lass from Laguna loves music and is inspired by Lea Salonga as she performs. A student of the Holy Child Jesus Academy of Biñan, Thara loves music, magazines, television and the net!

Vell Baria is a veteran of many ASP stages, wowing her audience with her pitch and reach. Like Buboy, Vell also started singing at age 3. This 14-year old sophomore of St. Mary’s Academy is also a composer. She loves Twilight, horror movies, and J-Pop, and believes that “working hard will make her reach her goals.”

While solo performances from these talented young men and women are sure crowd-drawers, group performances from the ILLC Hunks and the Sparkle Band will definitely make the audience jump in their seats.

The Sparkle Band is four-member group composed of vocalist Daryl Lim Tan (20 years old), keyboardist Desly Bianca Lim Alvarado (15 years old) , vocalist-drummer-percussionist Bryan Calvin Lu (18 years old) and drummer Elijah Josef Balila (7 years old). Daryl loves geography and writing scripts but you wouldn’t catch him watching Tagalog movies. He loves old songs, an antithesis to his interest in technology and the Internet. Bianca is a teenage fashionista; she loves manicures, clothing, and accessories. She also loves to dance and has remarkable left hand-right hand coordination. Bryan enjoys almanacs and travel books but is not a dog lover. Multi-talented, Bryan reads notes and is meticulous when it comes to his drumstick hygiene. And Elijah, the Sparkle Band’s own child wonder, reveals his sensitive side by writing letters to his family. He also enjoys drawing and computer games.

The ILLC Hunks were the 2007 National Conference stand-outs, hands down. Cornell Sarangaya, Marius Maniwang, Dominic Francis Rigor, Melvin Lloyd Ngo, and Matthew Somera make up this all-male dancing group. Cornell’s favorite food is adobo, Dominic’s is spaghetti, and Melvin goes for salads. While Marius likes being hugged, Cornell dislikes being tickled. Matthew, on the other hand, is averse to unfriendly people. Both Matthew and Melvin are Netizens, enjoying Friendster and Facebook with their friends. Cornell’s and Dominic’s interests are more sedate — reading “My Country and My People” for Cornell and writing on yellow paper for Dominic. Marius takes on physical sports as leisure as this hunk swims and bowls. Of these five young men, only one reveals a hidden crush, but let’s keep it a secret for now. * wink *  

What these young men and women all show us is that in life, nothing is ever as it seems. These individuals with autism are loaded with talent and eager to share them with us. They are living proof that their diagnosis does not define them as they transcend the borders and limits of labels with God-given talent. I think of this Erma Bombeck’s quote each time I see them in action, “When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, “I used everything you gave me.”

I think God already knows how beautifully they serve His purpose.

In the last two weeks, two deadly typhoons, Ondoy (International Name TS Ketsana) and Pepeng (TS Parma) wreaked havoc on the country, devastating much of Luzon. They ruined crops, destroyed homes and property, and tore apart families. Much has been said about who to blame and what could have been done to prevent these tragedies. In the middle of discord and bickering, of politicking and campaigning, it is heartening to see the spirit of volunteerism rising forth in a swell of help and support for those who have lost almost everything in those few days.

We take away many lessons from these tragedies. Lessons on proper governance and the call for a strong political will to buck big businesses and vested interests. Lessons on the environment and the urgent need to protect and preserve what little is left of our rainforests. Lessons on pollution and the need for implementing a rational waste management system. Yet, what I will remember most are lessons on humanity– on heroism, volunteerism, and love.

In times of crises, it is love alone that brings people together, that makes them risk their lives for people they do not know, and that makes them want to share and give from their hearts.

Thank you to all those who helped, who shared, and who prayed for our countrymen. May the blessings you shared be returned a thousandfold.

In parting, I’d like to share Father Raymund-Benedict Hizon’s homily  at the October Medal Mass last October 6 held at the Ateneo High School.  Father RB is the principal of the Ateneo High School.  

“Good morning, everyone.  This has been a very, very strange year so far.  Early today, I met one of our teachers who said, “Father, this our third start. What do we do?” Just the other day, I met one of our students, who said, “Father, so much for our Sesqui year. What will happen?” Just before the long cancellation of classes, one of our students posted something on my wall in FB (Facebook) saying, “Is the world ending? Father, are we being punished? What did we do wrong? Where did we go wrong?”
 
“I have to admit that when the rains first came, I could only ask myself those questions… questions with no ready or even real answers, questions which emerged as I saw first hand the rising waters and terrible traffic, and later the horrible images on FB and YouTube. Somehow, I felt and saw myself falling into a certain level of despair, a kind of disbelief and helplessness that made me turn in on myself and the rather narrow confines of my world and my immediate circle wanting if only to preserve that little part of me and my world over which I had some control, where I was safe and warm and dry and where I was not so utterly helpless.

“When the rains came heavily on Saturday, I was on my way to a funeral mass in C5 for an uncle who died.  I left the JR (Jesuit Residence) at nine in the morning and was only able to get back by five that afternoon.  Everything was a mess: people and cars lined all the streets; water was everywhere.  No one really knew what was happening.  People were stranded everywhere.  There were hundreds at the grade school, a couple more at the college and good number too here at the high School.  Utterly exhausted from the day-long journey (I never made it to the funeral mass, water was already chest deep in some parts of c5 and so I had to drive back inch by inch through waist-deep waters and unbelievable traffic and finally got back 8 hours later), nursing a fever, I lay down  for a while—and questions started running through my head; strange questions, a number were urgent; some were practical others stupid even embarrassing: what will I do tomorrow? Will there be classes and work on Monday? What’s for dinner? What will happen to the concert of 4M? what happened to the Ateneo Grade School fair?  What will happen to our sesqui?  How will we make up for lost class time if this goes on…what’s happening? Are we being punished? Is the world ending? Are my parents okay? When will we have the juniors game? Will our swimming team stay on in Laguna? Will I get the chance to see them tomorrow? What about KFD? What about my dog?

“Fortunately the phone rang and broke through my rambling revelry. It was one of our teachers: “Father there are about 50- 60 of us stuck at the AHS; teachers, students, some parents, some guests, and a nun.” We have no electricity here, no water and no food.”
 
“That immediate concern somehow broke through the crazy cacophony of voices and questions that were running though my head and going through my heart.  Very much like Mary’s greeting, that caused John to leap in the womb of Elizabeth, that immediate concern came as something like God’s own voice saying simply, “Snap out of it. It’s not about you!”
 
“It’s not about you…what happened next was a whirlwind of activity which saw us shuttling, preparing meals, finding shelter, helping organize task force Ondoy, asking students and parents to send relief and help pack, check on their classes and help bring relief, checking on teachers and staff.
 
“It’s not about you.”
 
“While we may not always have been successful or thorough enough or helpful enough; while we have much yet to do and our efforts have yet to reach more people, the next time we are plagued with questions, or doubt, the next time we feel like complaining, the next time we feel helpless or hapless, it may be good be reminded of that “it’s not about you.”
 
“For most of today, and in the coming days, we hope to be able to hear each others stories and attend to each others needs. Our moderators and teachers will try to see what else we can do to help everyone go back to some sense of normalcy.
 
“The need is still greater outside the immediate concerns of each one here; the needs are more basic outside the  Ateneo, the problems are more long-term than our Sesqui year and yet we have to be able to do what we can not only for each other but more especially, for the poor.

“Mother Teresa, I am told, once asked to address the American Senate as she and her sisters were looking for assistance to feed and clothe the big numbers of homeless in Washington, D.C.  One high government official (who was not particularly impressed by her nor convinced that what she was doing was particularly good or helpful)  wanted to embarrass Mother Theresa and asked her: “So sister, would you mind please telling us how it is you intend to feed the thousands who are hungry and homeless in DC? 

“Mother Theresa looked at him and said simply, “One by one.”

“One by one. That is perhaps the best way we can respond right now…one by one…one student, one staff, one teacher, one neighbor…one community…one by one.

“I pray we begin and start well, even for a third time. God bless you.”