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i do not remember when i started my 100 joy quilts project, all i remember is that i started it when i was not inspired enough to take on and paint. my goal then was to hold an exhibit to show off when i get to finish the collection. to date, i have done only eight and have given away six of them. there goes my exhibit. bwahahaha!
then came the yolanda tragedy, and i was thinking, if i had finished my project on time, i would have given at least ninety-two persons some blankets. designed, pieced and sewn by me. but procrastination got the better of me, needless to say, am not waiting for another yolanda, am giving away my quilts as soon as i make them, there simply is no time to waste, in giving a bit of joy.
last week, my friends in the bpmacs and i, went on our annual buy.give.love program. this time, we went to this place called "gift of love", managed by the sisters of the MofC. i cooked (well, not literally. bwahahaha!) and brought the food to the place, late. when i got there, mon was already waiting anxiously for me at the gate. i found rachelle emceeing and the rest of the gang, distributing the gifts.
when i reached the hall where we met the tenants, i could not seem to reach the front stage, where i was supposed to give a message.
i was trying to keep off my tears, but failed, i had to wipe them off pretending i got something in my eyes from the wind. i did not want them to see me cry, well, nobody has seen me cry. bwahahaha! i do that in private, i do not look cute when i do, that is why. bwahahaha!
i thought of a time when i would scoff at people who would do charitable activities. i always think: you are just doing it to make yourself feel better. so that, when it was time for me to bring my group to do this one act of charity, i was consciously asking myself, if indeed, i was just doing it to make myself feel good. it bugged me, but for some reason, i could not quite shake it. i took a mental inventory of how i felt.
at first, pretty good. it was nearing christmas, and people were appreciative of the food we were serving and the gifts we were giving away, especially the kids. then i came to this corner where i saw two old women, helpless in their wheelchairs, both were blind and were having tremors. and i did not know how they would enjoy the simple snacks we brought. my heart sank. i felt terrible, wishing i had the heart of my sister, T, she being a nurse, would and could easily have taken the job of feeding them, and i could not help feeling bad!
what we were doing was nowhere enough. and it was when it hit me.
this is the beginning of compassion: not feeling better, but feeling worse. because i can always do more; i can always give something extra, always meet another need. and i checked how i was feeling, and i know this for sure: if my heart does not break each time i go to places full of pain and hardship, then i am probably doing something wrong.
the reality is that when i expose myself to the deep needs of this world, it feels anything but good. compassion is messy work. it hurts. no one ever says this, i never even read it on billboards. but it is true. doing good sometimes feels bad. there is no other way to say it.
if you want to get involved in helping other people because you think it will make you feel better, then you had better change career paths. because the last thing you will feel is good!
the women walked in to the farm early in the cold december morning.
some swapped hugs and shared hellos, their bags were put down the floor.
most of us brought gifts for the exchange. we placed all these christmas treats on top of the chest and barrel. it was drizzling, there was no tree to put the presents under. bwahahaha!
before we officially began the evening, the party, amy from buhi led the prayer. through it i was clickin' that i just heard the amen at the end. i jokingly asked amy what the prayer was about, she did not tell me. bwahahaha!
in my mind, tho, i included these words: please receive the joyful praises of our laughter.
those words ring in my ears like sweet bells all night as i listen to giggles, chuckles and outright fits of giddiness. these rural women, my RIC, know how to have a good time.
and as i reflect on it later, i realize that, yes, our laughter sure sounded a lot like praise.
laughter that says: thank you for the friends you have given me to share this moment.
so this season of joy and love and hope, i give you the joyful praises of my laughter. as my friends and i laugh when we tried pounding to bits the pigeon peas before making polvoron, as we laughed when we opened the crazy presents, as we practiced our square dance. . .
our laughter finds its way into our messy and imperfect and our this-is-not-the-most-wonderful-time-of-the-year moments. . .
as i walked the path to the farm gate, groped actually, as we did not have electricity that night, sounds of chatter trailed out behind me. i turned back and looked through the foliage to catch final glimpses of those smiling faces - and i thought, joy to the world indeed.
thank you for the gift of laughter. bwahahaha!
the posts reek with despair and grief and of rotting human flesh. add to that the discontent and dismay! i cannot keep off my tears. i cannot avoid the memories that flood my being, bringing back the terror i underwent when my town, baao, was ravaged by a super typhoon, too, back in 2006.
when i look at the photos of the aftermath, i could only imagine how we looked like then. . . and there are just no words that would dare describe the horror, the misery, the hoplessness.
being spared from this recent devastation, i feel inadequate and i question how i could be of help, i being small (figuratively speaking, i.e., bwahahaha!)and basic. it led me to thinking that wherever i am today, (i may not be in the next plane of volunteers to tacloban or guian) or you, for that matter, i have done at least one of these simple things:
gotten out of bed when i could have lingered under my warm sheets. . .
shared a smile, a seat. . .
spoken a kind word, given a pat on the back. . .
offered a little love to someone who needed it, whispered a prayer. . .
and i realize that if i keep doing what i am doing, and do not worry much about what is not done, these little things have big impact, too.
that i know for sure. and i am also, already, making a difference.
ps. as artists here in bicol, we pooled our works together and showed we care, too, however small this act may seem. fair weather is just that, fair. and life is good!
youth have always made me rely on the self when presented with choices. maybe it brings with it the feeling of invincibility. i guess, one of the gifts of age (aside from wisdom and some grey hair. bwahahaha!) is the realization that my choices need not be without anchor, no roots.
today, i know this for sure: my choices are more rooted in truth and acceptance.
i move with confidence in my smallness, i.e., as opposed to the magnitude of it all, (this explanation was necessary. bwahahaha!), as i face my loneliness, my excitement, my occasional anxiety and my inabilities.
i find some strength to resist the urge to despise my weaknesses, instead, i bring them all up to you.
there are times when my soul feels frantic, and my list feels long, but during these moments, i take time to listen and remember where my hope springs from.
life is good and you give me hope! bwahahaha!
