Thursday, November 27, 2008


Demy was standing outside for almost an hour now. It was almost midnight and it was freezing outside but he didn’t care. His old hands were holding a bouquet of red roses which could have already withered by his stare.

He knew the kids would be arriving in the morning. Even if he couldn’t hear a slight movement, he knew there was still somebody inside waiting for them. He peeked through the heavily curtained window once in a while, desperate to get a view.

He made several attempts but ran out of strength to move a few more muscles to make that press on the doorbell. Fear, together with the cold breeze, wrapped him. He began to become more anxious. He was afraid of how he would be welcomed, if he would be at all. He didn’t even know how he got the courage to be there.

He was about to leave when he heard a door being opened. Sensing the noise created by the screen door that probably had not been replaced for years, Demy knew that it was the back door.

Quivering, he made a few steps towards the backyard. The porch at the back was dimly lit. Hearing the silent rush of waves, he paused. He closed his eyes, remembering how good it felt to be there once again.

He stopped upon seeing a rocking chair move from the other side. He stared at the old lady facing at the beach, slowly rocking the chair back and forth. He guessed she was reading one of her hundreds of books.

With a few more deep breathing and fidgeting, he quietly said, “Merry Christmas, Betty…”

The rocking chair stopped and he could see the lady froze. Betty slowly turned her head and her eyes instantly welled up.

Demy moved toward her and handed her the flowers.

“You remembered…” Betty almost whispered.

He hesitated but made one more step to reach out for her hand. “I’ve made mistakes in the past and it took me this long to realize I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry…” He was trying to fight the lump in his throat.

With more effort, Betty stood up shaking her head. And with those same loving eyes, she said, “What matters is you’re here…”

Demy hugged her, hoping it could make up for the lost years. “I will never leave again…now that I’m home…”

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Didn't You Like Daddy's Gift?

Three days before Christmas. Mom was busy preparing the dinner. Knowing that I was not allowed near the kitchen while they were busy, I used my strategy. “Mom, can I mix this for you?” I asked sweetly, eager to help out in making the flan. I was four years old.

But my mom knew better. Maybe she remembered the last time that I “helped” her I just broke the bowl and spilled everything on the floor. “Thank you honey…But don’t you think it’s more fun to be part of the game team?”

It didn’t work! With a defeated look, I walked away. I knew my sisters wouldn’t let me help either.

“Can I help?” I boldly volunteered anyway. My sisters were wrapping the prizes for the games.

“You don’t even know how to use the scissors. Plus, it won’t be a surprise then.”

“But…what will I do?” I was helpless. Everyone had their assignment for the party but nobody would let me help.

“You can take care of the gifts. Arrange them from the biggest to the smallest.”

I can do that! That’s the best part! So I hurried towards the tree and stared at the huge pile of gifts slumped beneath. Squeezing and shaking each gift, I had guessed them all.

Another pillow for mom…
Stuffed teddy for my sister…
A toy car for my brother…
For dad…Maybe something for his car…I can’t guess this…
And mine is…Where’s mine?!
I finished arranging the gifts but I couldn’t find mine. I was already in panic searching for my gift.

Then I found a tiny box at the farthest corner by the tree. It was so tiny that it didn’t seem like a gift at all. But when I checked it, oh boy, it had my name on it! And it was from my dad!

I sneaked at my sisters and saw everyone still busy. I hid at the corner and hastily opened that tiny box from my dad.

“There’s nothing here!” I squealed loud enough to stop the entire household from doing their thing. I threw the box away and marched outside, grumbling.

I left them all bewildered. But seeing the wrap of the tiny box torn open, they began to laugh.

Outside, I was still in shock. I couldn’t believe my dad would give me a box of matchsticks for Christmas! It was the most ridiculous gift any person could have. I didn’t even know how to light one.

My mom followed me outside and tried to pacify me. I was acting like a total brat.

“Didn’t you like dad’s gift?”

Instead of answering, I pouted and stomped heavily. Mom burst in laughter. I was so pissed off. My mom’s terrible. How could she laugh at my misfortune?

She showed me the tiny box of matchsticks and opened it in front of me. Two bright pink Hello Kitty hair clips were inside. I froze. It was the hair clips that I had been bugging my mom about. She said I already have dozens of Hello Kitty items and she wouldn’t buy it for me. I looked at my mom then back to the hair clips then back to mom.

Mom wiped my tears and kissed me on the cheek. “Daddy bought it for you…”

In the middle of my silent sobs, I heard a voice behind me. “Didn’t you like daddy’s gift?”

I ran toward daddy and hugged him tight. “It’s the best, daddy! I’m sorry…”

“What’s inside is what matters, right honey?”

Thursday, October 16, 2008

The Biggest Star

It was only four in the morning. The house was just lit by the flickering Christmas light. Tricia was already busy decorating the tree.

Tricia remembered how she was not allowed to put decors on their Christmas tree when she was younger. She would be given just a few Christmas balls and she would hang it on the bottom of the tree. Even so, she was always thrilled at her mom’s announcement of the annual tree decoration.

“Mom! Look! I think this is the best spot for this ball!” She would proudly say to her mom, wanting to get her ok to every spot she would hang her few precious balls.

And her mom would smile at her lovingly and would tell her, “Yes dear, that’s the best spot.” With that smile, Tricia would beam with excitement.

By the time they finish decorating, her dad would suddenly appear. That was the best part. Her dad would lift her to his shoulders while she held on protectively to the biggest star. Her brother and sisters would cheer her as she placed the star on top of the tree.

Then they would all march towards the kitchen and chaotically got themselves a hot chocolate. They would spend the entire morning on the dining table talking about what to eat on Christmas dinner. That was the second best part.

“You ok?” Her sister, still in her pajamas, appeared behind her.

Oblivious of her presence, she almost dropped a Christmas ball. “Yeah, I’ll be done in a while.” She quietly smiled.

“Alright. Wake me up if you need help ok? But I don’t think you want me to help you anyway.” She teased and ran off.

It was roughly 10 years ago since they last decorated their Christmas tree together. She could barely recall how they spent those ten Christmases without her mom.

After she placed the last Christmas ball, she thought, “Isn’t this the best spot for this ball?”

The sun was already shining when she finished decorating. She stared at the biggest star and left it beneath the tree. She was on the verge of crying, realizing that she did everything alone.

She was already cleaning the boxes when everybody suddenly rushed in the family room.

“Wow!!! This is so great! You made it!” Her sister beamed.

“We’ve never had a Christmas tree for what, a century?” Her brother exclaimed.

She couldn’t say a thing in surprise. She turned her head when she heard a voice saying, “You did this sweetie?”

It was her dad.

“Well…Uh, huh.” She said sheepishly.

“Yes daddy. I saw her doing it at four in the morning!” Her sister said.

Her dad picked up the biggest star and handed it to her. “It’s the tradition.”

Tricia’s eyes widened as she remembered the Christmas feeling she had 10 years ago. As her siblings cheered, she placed the biggest star on top of the tree with a big smile.

Her dad hugged her. “Come, we made you a hot chocolate.”

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Jingling Bells

Jingling bells jingling bells
Jingling all the way…

Little Ben sang with great exuberance, his little fingers slightly tapping the car’s window, a little drum hanging around his neck. The driver waved his hand without looking at him.

His eyes lost sparkle, his shoulders fell and he quietly moved to the sidewalk as the light turned green.

After a few minutes, another red light. Little Ben instantly leaped as if not feeling the cold wind wrapping him, creeping into his tattered clothes.

Jingling bells jingling bells
Jingling all the way…

He hopped from one car to another, continuing to sing the same lines. People kept shooing him away but he sang anyway. Some were amused but never gave him anything.

A lady tossed a penny from the window. Little Ben’s eyes widened with excitement as he thanked the old lady.

Upon realizing how long he’d been roaming the streets, little Ben slumped into the sidewalk.

“One…two…three…one…two…three…” He silently counted as if he knew exactly how to.

Suddenly a girl, about 4 years old, appeared behind him.

“Kuya…” she said in a soft whisper.

Frightened, little Ben hurriedly hid the coins he saved from that day. “Oh Sarah, it’s you! I told you to wait for me at home.”

Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes. “Kuya, I’m hungry…”

His throat tightened and realized that they hadn’t been eating anything for three days.

“Don’t cry… Look, 1-2-3-1-2-3! Kuya earned much! We’ll eat something special today.” He managed to cheer his voice up.

Little Ben left Sarah near the bridge and got themselves something for that day. Then he ran back to their home where she left Sarah and hurriedly climbed down. The pile of cartons was already set. Sarah was already sleeping quietly at the end waiting for him.

“Sarah, wake up…” Little Ben shook her softly. “It’s time.” He said with a silent excitement.

The two of them watched the different colors of fireworks appear in the sky, eating bread and a cup of warm noodles. “Merry Christmas Sarah…”

Friday, June 20, 2008

A Beautiful Myth

Once there was a story untold yet treasured. It was a tale that began in a rather bizarre way, but eventually turned into a wonderful thing that could ever happen to someone. The wonder of it remained perplexing, but some things are better left unfathomed for its marvel to be well-appreciated.

Over the years, the plot of the story remained clear as if the chapters were read over and over again until each episode, each detail, settled solid into the deepest spot of the mind. The value of it was nurtured and was regarded as something priceless; a once-in-a-lifetime experience that could never be traded with anything else.

It was a story that was built over the impossibilities. It was regarded as hard evidence about two people who are so different and so far apart, and yet in just a tiny, single, incredibly unusual point that may never occur again, something so beautiful can be established.

It was no more than a invisible friendship that started as a joke, shared apart, deepened despite the distance, continued to infinity. It was as plain as that, yet it was not ordinary. In that story, it had in it an unexplainable link that may remain a mystery until the end of it.

No matter how strange it was, for the longest time it was remembered. And though people held it foolish for somebody to actually believe in such a thing, it was regarded a reality; obscure, yet lovely.

In a perfect world, it would’ve remained without defect. But even the most fascinating tales had flaws. And like everything else that seemed to exist, somewhere along the way, it also had setbacks. There were unnecessary chapters that occurred, mistaken as something that would make an already flawless story more perfect. But sadly, at the end of the day, the twist proved to be just unparallel to the entire context.

It couldn’t be construed as total wreck after that tiny, almost-non-existent flaw, but for somebody who treasured such a surreal story, it was enough to challenge a belief in the reality of an oddly wonderful friendship.

The once vivid chapters became vague. While recalling how it started was as easy as a-b-c, it came to a point wherein words became cold and distant to roughly illustrate, more so to explain in depth what happened along the plot.

If it were to be rewritten, the unwanted parts would be shredded. That small part of it made the entire picture doubtful. But looking back to where it started up to the point where everything was unbelievably perfect, it still never failed to give a strange feeling of comfort. And maybe…it was the only thing that was meant to last.

Believing in it may be strongly considered unwise and plain stupid. I should know. As they insisted, it was too good to be true. Even so, it was something still causing silly smiles when remembered…a story still read over and over again and still treasured despite its imperfection.

Was it just a myth? Maybe. But the way I see it right now, that thing in it called friendship may be just another story, but in that myth, it was beautiful and real.

Thursday, May 29, 2008


The door slid open…

I think I’ve finally known you
I can see it in your eyes
I think I’ve finally shown you
That what we have is still worthwhile

She looked radiant even if she were looking down. Slowly she turned her head up…

Don’t you know that love is like a thread
That keeps unraveling within
And I see it together in the end

The butterflies were released…and she started to walk down the aisle.

In your eyes I can see my dreams’ reflections
In your eyes I found the answers to my questions
In your eyes I can see the reasons why our love’s alive

She was heading straight to the man at the end of the aisle, the man she was about to spend the rest of her life with.

In your eyes we’re safely drifting back to shore
And I think I’ve finally learned to love you more.

I couldn’t hold my tears back. I felt that I was starting to lose her…
She met her old man halfway and it was one of the most heartwarming scenes happened in my life. I couldn’t believe my own eyes.

I can consider her my favorite person on earth. With her never-ending patience and her incomparable heart of being there even before I ask, there’s no doubt of the reason why I may have that judgment. And seeing her walking down that aisle, closer to the man she’s gonna start a new life with, and farther away from me, I felt a sudden but deep rush of sadness.

Even if I tried just to focus on the wedding and their own happiness, I couldn’t help wondering “What will happen to me after this?” She was the one I spent most of my time with. We watched last full shows, we drove our father crazy for going to the mall almost every night, and we shared the same passion for food. (That was before I got too particular with the nutritional facts on the package.)

I remembered how we criticized the choices of flowers until we’ve found what would suffice. I remembered how we searched every store for the perfect shoes. I remembered how I joined her in practicing her grand walk in the aisle. And even if it were her big day we were talking about, she still made sure her baby would have the perfect dress for her wedding.

The exchange of vows snapped me from my thoughts.

Soon we would part lives as she builds a new one with somebody. I guess I really can never hold on to her forever. This man must have caused her a great deal of happiness and there’s nothing on earth I could ever pray for but the best for her. And I know in my heart that as lovely as she looked on her wedding day, though she would have a life of her own, my sister would remain the most amazing person I ever knew in my life.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Changing Lanes

In my head, I found myself driving on a single lane, easy road at approximately 40 miles per hour, satisfied at my rate, well-buckled on my seat, comfortable at the sounds of my stereo. I had a content smile on my face saying “This is what I call life.”

I came to a busy street with horns honking everywhere, intersections blocked by cars trying to beat the red light, and each vehicle trying to make a way for itself. Naturally, my moment of ease was disturbed. For a moment, I was preoccupied with the traffic. I forgot the comfort I was feeling a few minutes ago, and I busied myself with what was actually there, with what was in front of me. At a red light, I compared my car to all those that are in the same lane, leaving brief comments on each I envied as well as on others I felt I was better off. When it turned green, I never gave any other car a chance to get into my way.

Traffics are always a headache. After a few times of cursing to the pedestrians who were still crossing the street at my green light, and after almost hitting the bumper of the car in front of me just to not let anybody else get ahead of me, I got weary and wanted to get out of the main road. So I turned right, went straight ahead, and made a couple of U-turns just to find an easy way to get out of it. Having no sense of direction, it took me a little more while to find a clearer road.

I found myself in the middle of the same road I was on before. Coupled with frustration, I fled. Time and again, I was able to unbelievably overtake a few trucks, and to avoid some hollows on the road under repair that I used to never miss. I was filled with pride that I was able to exceed my limits in driving. It was another adventure for me.

Yet, after the fun, I slowly became bored. I found nothing challenging anymore. I became uneasy with my speed so I slowed down a bit. Lost in my thoughts, a question popped. Where was I heading? Consumed by panic and fear, I realized a truth: I was heading nowhere. I looked outside my window to check how long I have travelled with no precise destination. I checked on my rearview mirror to see if there were any other vehicles running on the same road.

So I decided to pull over. A few cars, including a patrol, checked on me if I had a problem. At the back of my mind, I was asking, “Could you give me a road map?” But I didn’t want them to know I was lost. So I just pretended I was taking a break for a long trip ahead. Anyway, it was partly true.

It was already mid-afternoon. Still unsure as I was, I decided to get on with my ride. I drove at an acceptable speed. Seeing the fire trees that started to bloom that season, I began to relax. My worries passed and peace wrapped me. I enjoyed the solitude.

Throughout that long day, I realized, it’s not with the comfort, it’s not with the ability to get away with traffic, it’s not with the speed, nor is it with the ability to get ahead. A worthwhile ride is about being able to enjoy and appreciate every part of it, driving not too fast and not too slow, and still fully understanding where you’re going.

And now at the end of the day, the same question popped: Where was I heading? This time I smiled. I was heading back home.

It’s always reassuring to know that after my road trips, there would always be Him taking me home.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008


He looked at her with those loving eyes, that she could see right through them his very soul. He held her with assurance that he would always be there.

“I know I’m not a world renowned person and I know I’m not a lot of things you’ve gone for in the past… But I would never leave you... I would never hurt you... And I will never stop loving you...” Those were his exact words like it was a fact as gravity pulling down everything towards the earth’s very core.

He was always there, at the right place at the right time. Whenever she needed somebody to just listen and tell her that everything will turn out all right, he was there. He was everything any woman could ever dream of. He had everything she wanted in her man.

And again with those loving eyes looking at her, she slowly moved her head down to avoid that pure and sincere gaze. She closed her eyes and fell into a deep thinking. And when she finally got the courage to raise her head, she was filled with tears. “If only I could love you…”
It’s a mystery why we cannot compel our hearts to love somebody. And most of the time this somebody just seems to be the nicest person in the planet, somebody who lights up by our mere presence, and somebody who just stares at us with a promise of doing everything just to make us happy.

And here’s a man who was willing to do everything for her, who would do everything he could just to be “seen” by her, who would not give up by hearing a mere “no” from her, who promised to wash away all the hurt caused by her past. He would do everything just to be the one for her, if only, if only she would give him the chance.

The truth is, she could. She could have allowed him to treat her his princess and let him give her everything she needed. She could’ve tried. Only she didn’t want to. If only there were even a tiny spark of possibility for the two of them, she would have given it a shot. But she knew in her heart that she will never be able to return that look from his loving eyes, because hers is looking the exact opposite direction. It makes no sense but it happens.

He was everything any woman could ever dream of. He had everything she wanted in her man. But the odd and sad truth is, George just isn't him.

Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Trying to Get the Feeling Again

There is a feeling that has been at rest for quite some time. Before, it was full of hope and trust, but eventually it has grown weary waiting and decided to lock itself inside, where nothing could disturb it. Now, a guard stays before its door, stern and overprotective.

When a feeling has been inactive for quite some time, how should it be awakened? Or, should it be awakened at all?

What if an intruder tries to get into the feeling? Does the feeling jump for joy or does it shut itself out?

There comes into the picture the examiner. This one has a long list of questions, or probably a book. It has to probe. It has to scrutinize the intruder, and in this case, it’s already an old guest. It has to make sure that the standards are passed, the intentions are made clear, and the sincerity is validated. It may take a while and if the intruder is patient, it will endure all the questions of the examiner. The examiner has to make sure it has gone through all the procedures. Why? Because it knows it needs to explain everything to the guard. It’s the safe keeper of the key to the feeling.

After the examiner has fulfilled its responsibilities, it goes to the locked feeling and talks with the guard. They discuss the result of the investigation. The guard is always suspicious. It doesn’t want anything to get into the feeling. The examiner explains the facts but the guard is full of doubts. It reminds the examiner of the ruling: Old Guests Are Forbidden.

“You’ve seen what the feeling went through in the past, how could you be talking to me about the same intruder?” The guard says disappointedly.

“It’s my job to examine all intruders and give the feeling my report.” The examiner frowns.

“The intruder may have won you, but I won’t let it get into the feeling again.” It fights back stubbornly.

“I didn’t say it has already passed the test,” says the examiner. “All I’m saying is the feeling needs to check my results by itself. It’s not us this intruder needs, it’s looking for her.” The guard makes face, not trying to hear a thing.

“I don’t have time to convince such a stubborn feeling as you. Do you think it was easy for me to deal with this intruder? I saw her sadness too and I was exploding with hostility towards it. But is it my job to judge?” The examiner says and walks away.

Seeing it has won the argument, the guard whispers by the door, “Don’t worry. I will never let anybody get into this door. I will never allow anyone to touch you again.”

Meanwhile, the examiner goes back and ventilates its annoyance with an associate. Now, this associate is new and is still very naïve.

“I am just presenting the facts. That guard is too domineering.” The examiner says furiously.
The associate knows it’s not in the position to comment about anything. Nevertheless, it says quietly, “Maybe it doesn’t want to cause the feeling any more pain. It seems reasonable to me.”

“How can you conclude that? You’re just a novice!” The examiner scowls. “I have my previous reports intact. The feeling was happiest with that intruder! Yes, they had misunderstandings and the timing wasn’t right, but who are we to judge who is and isn’t right for the feeling?” The examiner leaves the novice the reports and marches away.

The novice studies the reports and by its innocence, it is easily swayed by the data. The examiner is right, it mutters.

Late at night, the novice drops by the locked room.

“What do you want?” the guard pries.

“Oh, I was instructed to tell you that there is an intruder outside who wants to talk to the feeling and the other guards can’t stop him. I think they need you there.” The novice replies.

With another prying look, the guard says “How can I trust a novice like you?”

The novice shrugs and doesn’t say a word. A few seconds pass and the guard remains troubled by the reported commotion. It doesn’t want to leave the feeling with the novice, but it knows that if the intruder gets in, the feeling will be in more difficult situation.

With a deep concern on its face, the guard tells the novice, “It is my responsibility to keep the feeling safe. You have not known the entire story yet, but that intruder is very dangerous. Do you understand how serious this is?”

“We’re all here to protect the feeling.” The novice simply replies.

With that, the guard instantly leaps from its seat and warns the novice. “Don’t come near the door, you novice.” Then it hurries away.

The novice nervously stands by the door and knocks. “Are you there?” The novice waits for a reply but the feeling doesn’t answer.

“I just came here to tell you that the intruder is here. The examiner has been meaning to give you this,” the novice slips the results through. “Your guard is too protective of you and I understand that, but I know that in the end, the decision is yours.” And the novice leaves.

The danger in leaving a feeling out in the cold is that it may turn out to be hard enough that it won’t be melted by the highest degree of heat. The scary part could be that after such a long time, it won’t be able to recognize what has stirred itself in the first place.

As days pass, everybody is continuously disturbed by the intruder from the outside although it never gets to pass the guard. Despite all the disorder outside its door, the feeling remains unmoved. Does it mean the feeling has already been gone or has it just fallen into a very deep sleep that no ordinary intrusion may awaken it?

Who knows if the feeling hears everything from the inside. Who knows if it even looked at the reports of the examiner. Who knows if the guard were really successful in preventing the feeling from any form of intruder by just standing by the door.

“Could the feeling still be there,” the novice wonders.

Sunday, January 20, 2008

The Answer

It was a difficult day.

The Questions:

Her phone alarmed at 6:05am. She automatically turned it off, and curled underneath her blanket. Another day, she thought. Only if she could make up excuses for not going to work, she would’ve probably slept the whole day. But she knew she had to get up and drag herself to shower. Can it be like this forever?

Almost 10 hours of the day, she had to deal with her job, which failed to engross her lately. She had to tire out herself “finding money,” as she put it. She knew sales was not her forte. Dealing with tough clients wasn’t already interesting, but draining. She tried to search for the enthusiasm she once had. Is this the career path she had in mind?

At home, she hardly saw her dad. They hadn’t talked for nearly 3 months. Not about work, not about what’s happening, not about anything at all. Where did her control-freak dad go?

She remembered how angry he was for not being able to impose what he wanted in her life. And she, herself, got mad at him for not accepting that not everything in her life could be manipulated by his plans, or at least what he believed was right for her. And they argued for 3 minutes or so, and fell silent for 3 months. Why can’t he understand?

She had remaining 3 to 4 hours before she would go back to bed. She had a few options on how to spend ‘em.

Watch TV. Maybe Tyra would feature some anorexic 5’11” women wanting to be 80lbs. Then she’d feel some people were more ridiculous than her. Can’t people find any contentment at all?

Chat with friends. That would divert her spotlight away from her own self. Would they have any other interesting things to say? Or would they be sensitive enough to hear what she had to say?

Dinner. She’d still have to figure out if this would add up to the free radicals in her body or if her liver won’t be overloaded. Is this healthy or toxic?

Read. She got all those halfway-read newly-purchased books piled up on her nightstand waiting for her to start living with the principles of maximizing time, heading towards success, and unleashing innermost capabilities. Yeah, the ideas were great. But why don’t they suffice?

She had the usual questions a normal 23-year old would have. (That’s insanity aside.) Life starts to become a burden, not an enjoyable thing. A day passes without any difference from the previous day and a voice within her keeps on whispering that life couldn’t be just like that. Living is supposed to be a short, yet exciting and wonderful experience you can’t wait to taste; not a dreadful, boring journey on a tunnel wherein seeing the end of it is your only goal.

She satisfied herself with a book that had been with her for months but she felt too exhausted to even consider opening. It struck her with its promises to answer life’s toughest questions. Really, huh? Now there’s such a thing as a universal answer to all the questions she had in mind. Intrigued, she leafed through it.

Upon recovery from the state of shock after reading, the reality flashed to her as if wondering why she was surprised with the answer she got. She had always tried to find some meaning in her life and a sense of purpose for her existence but instead she found herself facing the same “difficult days”, doing the same things. Little did she know that all this time, she got it all wrong.

The Answer

There’s a huge difference between existing and actually living. To exist is to breathe, to move even the most futile movement, and to be able to stay alive, even if it meant a machine is keeping your vital organs at work. To exist is to drift in this world with no purpose.

On the contrary, to live is to understand that you are tailored to a more meaningful existence. It is knowing what makes you special and what you’re supposed to do to make use of the gifts given to you.

To live is not self-serving. You may have acquired all the riches in the world, won all the trophies of success and yet come home after the most victorious event feeling empty, alone, and strangely senseless.

If you cease to find the purpose of your existence, you cease to exist. Like a wave just going with the flow of others, not knowing its destiny, it seems that it’s meant to only crash in the shore. But the truth is, even how long the journey is and how hard the crash must be, even a tiny wave it is, it’s designed to still go back to the where it belongs – the ocean.

How then do you define the answers to all these seemingly endless questions on the depth of life’s meaning?

She had kept herself captive of doubts and weariness with her life. She’d been trying to figure out if she’s only meant to crash in the shore. But then it struck her that she’d been searching on the wrong places.

Is she meant to crash in the shore, she wondered. And the answer shone on her like the sun’s rays in the morning sky. She is designed to go back to where she belongs. She is destined to carry out the master plan of the one who made her.

When you remember where you came from, it is easier for you to figure out where you’re heading. When you understand that you’re not just a single wave, but a part of the bigger ocean, it is already laid out to you what you need to prioritize. When you realize that you are not the steward of your own life, but mere clay molded by the Potter’s hand, it is natural for you to let go and allow the Maker to take control of your steering wheel.

Most of the time we trouble ourselves with every detail in our life, believing that they are the truly essential things that would keep us going- dreams, security, stability, health, relationships. But the question remained, to keep us going where? Is fulfilling a dream the end goal? Would having uncountable wealth satisfy our deepest longing? Would living up to a hundred years make us feel we have made sense on earth?

Only through the proper perspective in life we can truly decode what it is to live. And the perspective does not come from our own expertise; rather it comes from the wisdom of the Most High who is all-knowing. We keep our eyes on what’s material, on what’s physical, but He knows what is truly essential, what is eternal. If we know how to align the journey of our life with His master plan, the drifting comes to an end, and the living begins.

Searching for His ultimate plan for us is not simple and instant, though. It is not as if you’d stare up in the sky and the answer will just reveal itself to you. It takes conscious diligence and loads of grace from God to uncover the answer. It may take a lifetime search, but it’s the kind of quest that’s worth taking. Rather than journeying alone and clueless, it is more reassuring to go through this life knowing that the hand of the Father is with us, directing us which path to take.

When we allow God’s hand to lead us, dealing with difficulties on our jobs becomes a tiny hump in the road that won’t keep us off-track. When we allow God to guide us, misunderstanding and pains in our relationships will be washed away by His immeasurable love and compassion. Nothing in our life is too trivial for Him, for He knows every detail in our life. He knows us more than we know ourselves. So if we feel lost and wonder what living is all about, try to search for Him, and you’re going to get the most wonderful answer there is.