MY SECOND YEAR OF SEMINARY HAS ENDED

I popped into seminary graduation just a few minutes before the graduating class of 2009 were called one by one to receive their certificates of course completion. This would be my second graduation since I started teaching seminary last year. Much has changed. As we, the teachers lined up by the exit door to shake hands with every student as they marched out of the chapel, I felt a bit out of my element as teachers hugged students as they passed. I did not particularly feel the need to do so. I just shook their hands as they passed, convinced that I just wanted to get this over with and go home. I did not want any 'drama' anyway.

But then, towards the end, my students and former students began to show up and as the my first student appeared, I suddenly felt all lumpy and crumbly inside as they began to hug me. A couple of whispered 'thank you' to me or 'thanks for helping me through this'... as they hugged me. All I could do was whisper "I love you!" and "congratulations!." I got plenty emotional and teary-eyed as a couple of them passed and hugged me. They were the ones whose spirits touched me--the ones who I knew needed a little extra something throughout the course of the year. It was easy to love them all.

Last year was such a struggle as I did not know what to expect. I mostly groped in the dark throughout that first year. I was too busy learning the mechanics of teaching as prescribed by the Church Educational System called 'Teaching Emphasis'. And I was overwhelmed by all the administrative responsibilities---attendance, rules, schedules, rules and more rules. The most confusing part was the fact that there was no uniformity of execution. Some teachers had their own interpretations of the 'rules' and yet again, after having received instructions from the principal, someone would invariably tell me to ignore them. It was very confusing and frustrating for me. I had to find my own comfort zone. I just wanted to do the right thing and the right thing was simply unclear. Because I was in the zone of trying to find how and where I fit in, I didn't really have enough attention nor emotional freedom to really 'see' and 'hear' my students.

This year, I feel like I've transcended that hurdle. Next year I expect better things...when I can pay more attention to the invisible, be led by the Spirit and teach so that I can learn.

Introducing...Jack Jabez Faux!

When I look at my grandson Jack, I see no trace of his Filipino roots. I didn't think that what I wrote about years ago would actually happen--that I would have a grandchild with blue eyes, blonde hair and very, very light skin. Someday, he will tell his friends that his grandmother is Asian and people will tilt their heads askance at the notion. I will be a drop in the bucket. A forethought. An anomaly. Perhaps even a nice ice-breaker.

But I am me!

Now more than ever, I need to write my memories, my story, my past and recreate a world that my children and children's children must have. I know that they will not care about an old ancestor nor care to read about her whilst they grow up and experience life while in their youth. But one day, when they are ready and their roots begin to tug at them, they will want to know. And there better be something for them to read.

I was lying down next to Jack as his eyes began to flutter and Sleep's influence began to steal his guard. Finally, his eyes closed, his breathing became angel's whispers and he lay there peaceful and beautiful. My eyes began to tear up overwhelmed with love for him.

There will be more grandchildren and I will love them until it aches. And though what's part of me will no longer be obvious in their appearance, I know that in their blood will still course an exuberance that comes from my spirit forged in the pride of being uniquely...Asian.