I have a huge pile of photos and videos that I need to edit and put together into some interesting and attention-holding medium. I might do a picture book with Shutterly. But then again, a video is always more entertaining... So above is a taste of what I am working on. This video shows our first day and a half in Budapest. Considering we were in Imperial Europe (Hungary, Austria, Czech Republic and Germany) for 10 days, I probably will have 4 videos created.

Budapest is a picturesque city. I totally loved it. But there is a certain feeling of darkness or gloom in its psyche.

Anyway, enjoy!

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.

Some Very Memorable Moments

More Co-winky-dinks

In case you were lost and don't quite know what co-winky-dink means, you must refer to a previous posting that refers to 'coincidences' here:

I was chatting with Rose about coincidences with names because Nate's mom is a "Kristi" and I'm a "Christie". Coincidence? Hmmm.... it would make for very interesting introductions for sure. But I am going to list a few more:

1. I've already mentioned that my husband, Kurt has an initial for a middle name that stands for absolutely nothing. So it would be natural that fate would have it that his wife (me) would have a name that starts with the letter "C" which is his middle initial. Now it can stand for something. Whoa.

2. I told Rose, whose first name is Elizabeth that there is, in fact, a name coincidence between her name and Jordan's. Here it is: Elizabeth is the name of the mother of John the Baptist. And where does he like to baptize? You got it: the river Jordan.

3. Well...Leland's name means "meadowlands". Conjures up visions of pure, virginal lands of green grass, lush vegetation and probably even a babbling brook of pure waters. Hmmm...yes, there may yet be a name coincidence here because "Catherine" which is Greek in origin, means 'pure' and 'virginal". Coincidence?

4. And here's something that I never even thought of: Natascha is apparently originally Italian. And it refers to 'Christ's birthday". We can, of course, have a name coincidence if we refer to the name "David". Who is an ancestor of Christ. : )

5. And lastly, Hannah and Nathan are both Hebrew and Biblical names. Are they even related? But of course! Coincidence does not end here! Hannah is the mother of Samuel who becomes a high priest. And Nathan later, takes his place. The name "Nathan" also means "a gift from God" and of course, "Hannah" is a 'favour from God" or 'grace'. Related? Coincidence?

I attended a luncheon last April 6 which became a...sort of preparation for what would lie ahead. Elder Bednar was our featured guest. And although I did promise that I wouldn't blog about his comments, this blog isn't about him. Anyway, he said that there is no such thing as a 'coincidence' as the hand of God is in all things. He also said that everything we have in our church is for the 'individual' and more importantly, 'families'. This is the basic unit of the heavens. Nothing is more important. No programs, no auxilliaries...all that we have is for the edifying of the individual and families. Little would I know that these concepts would shape many of the subsequent events. And knowing that there are no coincidences opened my eyes even wider to the miracles that surrounded us...none of which were coincidences but rather, manifestations that God is in control and managing every detail and putting things in their proper order according to our faith and obedience.

These are certainly fun coincidences that I listed. But....hmmm.....

I am having a grand moment here whilst passing time.

BIRDZ

Much has happened since April 6, 2009---hence the silence. I learned a lot these past few days about miracles, fasting, prayer and the love of a Heavenly Father. The life of a loved one was pulled out of the valley of the shadow of death and brought back into more light. I am so grateful that his is a life of obedience and righteousness such that through him, great ministrations of angels and manifestations of God's love were wrought ..and the miracle that altered the course of his life was made possible to suit God's plans for him...for his edifying and perfecting--and obviously as a means to bless so many people's lives!

As the sun just left the horizon yesterday morning, I slowly backed out of my driveway and pulled the little lever by my right hand to pull the top down and off of my car. It was still dark but the horizon was almost pink and orange. It was a beautiful morning and something inside me told me to turn off my music. As I slowly drove past the automatic gates, I heard some birds chirping. Without thinking, I turned my head towards that sweet sound...but I did not see any birds. But I knew they were there.

I only heard their chirping for a brief moment as I rounded the corner into the street. As I drove past every pine tree that gracefully lined the street outside the gate, I would hear different sounds. Some were sweet chirpings. Some were baby tweetings. Some were sharp whistles and yet some were loud caws. "Wake up!", they all seemed to say. And then some sounds were melodic, serenading and welcoming a beautiful day about to burst.

When I drove by the intersections and apartment complexes, I would hear nothing but the soft engine of my car and others around me. There! I see another tree! And as I pass it, I hear more birds. Then silence until I pass another tree. Some to my left and some to my right. But every tree I pass had beautiful birds singing. I'd tilt my head to the right as I glided past a tree fat with leaves...and then I'd hear the beautiful tones of chirping. Or I'd lean to the left towards another nearing tree and then I'd hear soft tweets and whistles. What a wonderful, beautiful day!

I had passed these trees thousands of times and yet never had I had the opportunity to hear the musicians concealed in their leafy branches as I did this morning. Driving with my top down helped. I am grateful I can drive a beautiful car that can do this. And turning off my usual jazz music helped...though I love jazz, this day was...for the birds. And even now, as I sit and write this, I hear birds chirping outside.

There is beauty everywhere even in what seems banal. And though obviously one can find metaphorical ideas and messages in this posting, I really don't have much of an agenda in writing about those birds.

All I know is that I had a singular experience yesterday morning. And it made all the difference.

INSPIRATION

This series of videos are SO well-done and so inspiring. I thought I should post them for you to see: Enjoy!

Mothering Insights On Prayer & Communication

I love being with my children. When they left for college, I fancied myself sitting by the phone waiting for them to call. I imagined that they would call morning, noon and night...and even in between. Of course, this was me living in my unrealistic, perfect-for-me world and intellectually, I knew this was an expectation that should not even exist.

Sometimes, when they do call, we talk about all kinds of things --things that usually deal with relationships and life's ironies. Invariably, I would dispense some unsolicited advise and while my children would graciously listen, in the end, I knew my suggestions were not really needed-- sometimes, and probably deservedly so, even unappreciated. But then weeks or months later, they would find themselves in situations where those counsels would have come in handy and I'd get a phone call asking for assistance or advise regarding the very thing we had discussed previously.

One day, I found myself in the grocery store looking at boxes of cereal. I didn't need to get any because my children were all gone. I looked at little lunchbox sized boxes of raisins, granola bars, fruit snacks...items that I used to buy to slip into their lunch bags. I longed for those days. I ached to give them something. I wanted to give them something. I wanted to give them everything. But they don't need Hello Kitty fruit snacks anymore.

At times, I wonder if they still need a mom. And sometimes I long for them to tell me that I am a good mom. And most of all, my heart always softens when they tell me they are grateful for the things I do for them.

As I ponder these experiences, I realized that our Heavenly Father must feel that same way about his children as I do about mine. He must long for us, wait for us to call upon Him and long to bless us and give us abundant lives. But there are blessings that he can't bestow unless we ask first -- that are contingent upon our asking. He has to wait for them to ask. And I imagine Him waiting and wishing that we would ask. Or wishing that we would thank Him for all the things He does for us. And I also see Him wanting so much to open the windows of Heaven and bless us such that there will not be room to receive these blessings.

I love it when my children have a good conversation with me. With stars in their eyes, they invite me into their world of unlimited ambitions and endless possibilities. Or, they can also summon me into their valleys of newly found disappointments or innocent discoveries of Life's cruel ironies. Occasionally, they can surprise me with their clumsy rendition of gratitude and appreciation. The crowning glory of this rare repartee is when their face suddenly assumes an incandescent glow-- proof positive that you have communicated heart to heart, spirit to spirit. When this happens, I grin in my heart as wide as the ocean looking forward to that next rare treat when they once again invite me into their world. If you could only pick all the gifts that life can offer from a tree, you'd have darted from your couch and plucked all, laid them on a silver platter to hand to your child.

As I kneel by my bedside to start my day, I clumsily begin my prayer
I pause for a second to collect my thoughts that I happily want to share
And all my longings, my doubts, my hopes and fears I secretly hide
I softly declare to a loving Father who hears me by my side
I thank Him for His many favours and blessings poured on me
I try to list them all but soon in awe I came to be
So I told Him that my heart was full as it beats so gratefully
Then I thanked Him again for everything with all sincerity
My conversation lasted long and we talked of many themes
My family, my friends, my work and all my secret dreams
And then at last, I paused in silence then closed in Jesus' name
Before I opened my teary eyes these words so clearly came:

This happy morning my busy child took time from life's busy track
In thoughtful conversation shared and spared not a moment's lack
A grateful heart; to share your life and often in fervent prayer
So your Father's heart fills with tenderness and joy beyond compare
If I could pluck life's sweetest gifts from a blossoming yonder tree
I'd pluck them all and set them down on a silvery tray for thee
For the windows of heaven fling open wide and blessings pour out sweet
When a grateful heart in a loving soul bind to make a prayer complete.

MY HEAD IS GOING TO EXPLODE ALREADY

Once again, just a couple of weeks ago, another speaker during sacrament meeting emphatically quoted what he said were Jesus' words: I never said it would be easy...I only said it would be worth it.

Far too many times, I would hear this heartfelt statement given with such conviction that invariably there would be tears and an accompanying heartfelt testimony. Consequently, I never had the zeal to challenge them to find me the book, chapter and verse in the Bible where Jesus' supposedly uttered these words because I didn't have the heart to see the blank look on their faces, the stuttering of their words or their embarrassment or mortification when it finally dawns on them that those words simply do not exist in any scripture that we accept as the standard works of the church. But the frequency with which I find myself in this deliciously high octane moment is so ridiculous that I am now convinced that studying the scriptures and essential gospel principles are not as popular as I expected it to be else this fraudulent claim would have been laid to rest in the cemetery of dangerous models of thoughts.

I want to list some of the common Mormon rhetoric that seems to make sense on first blush and yet, if we wake up from the catatonia of complacency, becomes a conundrum of triteness and befuddlement. But I only have time for this one. Would that I could convince more of my brothers and sisters that there is no Biblical reference that gives credence to this falsehood. Jesus never said those words.

"I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it" negates the very words of Christ as quoted in the New Testament:

Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, for I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

Clearly, the abundant life that follows the teachings of the Saviour is one that is free from the shackles and devastation of sin. Life indeed does come packaged with strife, challenges and hardship---that is a given. But the blessings and untold treasures that come from availing of the gifts of the Atonement through faith, repentance, baptism and the right to the companionship of the Holy Ghost brings us the balm of Gilead. Indeed, Christ never told us it would be 'difficult' but rather, the opposite. He provides us the easy way where our burdens can be made light.

I fear that my head will explode if I hear this common false and to a degree, dangerous rhetoric that is haplessly being propagated. I wish to curtail it's proliferation and replace it with truth.

left to right: me, papa and my sister during happier times.
(Angat Dam, 1968)

My Papa came to visit me early this morning as I lay between wakefulness and sleep. He was knocking on the front door and I could see him through the glass. He looked through the glass pane shading his eyes with his hand but could not see anyone because I was in the kitchen. So I walked to the door and opened it. I did not realize it was him until he came in and sat on the couch. He was wearing a dark colored suit which was probably two sizes too big for him. He had on a white unbuttoned shirt and no tie. He looked like he had lost a lot weight. He seemed to be in a hurry although I could sense that he wanted to stay.

I asked him where he was staying. He was very cagey and uncomfortable answering my questions. I sat on the couch next to him. He held me hand which he never did before. I could tell he was in such great sorrow. He had been eluding the whole family but decided to come and visit. I asked him to stay with us and pointed to all the rooms in the house that are now empty. I even told him that he can have his own bathroom and that he will be comfortable here. He declined my offer. I asked him if he had eaten. He did not say but it seemed that he could not stay anyway. I really could feel what he was feeling. Perhaps I was just projecting what I was feeling. I don't know. But soon he said he needed to leave.

As he stood up to walk to the door, I pulled his hand to entreat him to stay and see his grandchildren. But then I remembered that they had all gone and I couldn't tell him how long it would be before everyone would be back in one roof. It was all so sad. I have no recollection of what happened after that but I did not remember that this happened until about an hour ago.

I was sitting in my study working on another scripture mastery video when suddenly, an overwhelming feeling swept over me and I remembered everything so vividly as if everything was replayed for me in my mind. I sit here now as I record it fearing I will forget.

The sorrow I feel is still lingering and I draw in some air in an attempt to stop the overwhelming need to weep for my father. I miss him. I miss him so much. I pray that wherever he is, he is happy. And I pray that someday, there will be a time when I will see him in my dreams when he will be happy.

Day of Faith: Personal Quests for a Purpose - 3. Rachel Esplin from Harvard Hillel on Vimeo.

Co-winky-dink?

Einstein has allegedly been quoted to say that coincidence is what God does to remain anonymous...or something like that. Since I just heard a television character say this, I cannot vouch for its veracity. Either he was drunk or joking but I cannot imagine him saying this with any measurable preponderance because it would first preclude that God wants to be anonymous....which in my estimation would negate His desire to even be. I don't mean to be so philosophical in such a pedestrian sort of way. So let's get on with my usual banalities.

I am one of those people who, upon experiencing a cosmic synchronicity, can dig meaning into it and then add it to my growing list of signs and markers that led to events in my life---some great and some small. Yeah. I don't believe in coincidences. I believe they are REAL signs and markers. I agree. It's fatalistic. But they are MY coincidences and the meanings are only significant to me and only me. No one else owns them.

Take for example, my husband's middle name which has been the source of vapid teasing because instead of a name, he has a letter. An initial. No one really knows what it means. His siblings all have proper middle names but only he has a letter. It's the letter C. I can sort of...feel for him but I say that it's a sign. Oh yeah. My name does not begin with the letter "K" as most Kristi's do. But yeah, my name starts with a "C". Now his name is complete because he has me. Is that a coincidence? Could be. But not to me. Now that coincidence has meaning and it's a cosmic synchronicity.

Even our birthdays have meaning as I see it. My husband was born in March, the same month and year as my sister---my ONLY sibling. Is it a coincidence that the only sibling who will journey through life with me as my only link to the same parents would be born the same time as the one who will complete me...who will be my eternal companion? The meaning is huge to me. It's cosmic synchronicity.

My husband and I met while students at BYU-Hawaii. He didn't even know about BYU-Hawaii until after his mission and he happened upon some brochures about it. It intrigued him. It felt good to him. And with nary a tangible reason other than a hunch, he took off from Pleasant Grove, Utah to attend BYU-Hawaii in Laie. He arrived there in the winter of 1979. I had barely left the previous fall of 1978 to serve a full-time mission for the LDS church missing him by a mere 4 months. While he was getting acclimatized to the culture of the islands, I was back in Europe where he had just served. By the time I returned, he was ready for me. Coincidence? Nah. Cosmic synchronicity. No Filipino national had ever been called to serve a mission in Europe. I was the first. Ever.

How about this---when my husband's parents decided to go on a mission, years after we were married, where do you think God would send them? Of course! To the Philippines! I am the only in-law who is NOT American. A foreigner. Culturally SO different. Ethnically different. Racially....I am of the 'well-done' variety who married someone of the "Not-Quite-Cooked" variety. (Laugh track please...) But it isn't a coincidence that the Lord would send them to my homeland. It was an opportunity for them to get to know my culture, my heritage, my language, my music....everything that should bring us closer together and perhaps give meaning and more joy to their posterity through my lineage. It would have been a great opportunity for ALL his family members to do so....to dig in and find the divine in our union--in the union of two countries. I don't know if that happened..in fact, I'm SURE it didn't. There were definitely many missed opportunities there. But it could have. And that's another blog and I digress. But it's NO coincidence. It was the hand of God. A cosmic synchronicity whose magnificent, profound and far-reaching meaning is visible only to me. Sadly.

There's plenty more to list but let me just end with a whopper of all coincidences: The day we got married, the Fauxes borrowed some chairs from the chapel to use for the reception which was going to be held in their backyard. My parents had flown straight from Manila, Philippines for this occasion. As we walked along the beautiful flowery paths, my father stopped short and exclaimed, "Manilla Ward?" Behind the folding chairs were stenciled these words. Oh yeah. My husband practically grew up in a small community in Pleasant Grove, Utah specifically called Manilla...yeah, named after Manila, Philippines. (Spelled incorrectly of course...but what do you expect from PG?) We were both from Manila but from different sides of the world. True story.

Coincidence? Nah. Cosmic. Synchronicity.

There are NO coincidences. All things are in order. All good things are brought together in perfect harmony.

I AM SICK

The picture above best describes how I feel today. I am exhausted. Spent. I have bacterial infection of the inner ear AND a viral infection (gastro-enteritis) plus...well, exhaustion. Not to mention a fever of 102.

It feels as though some unseen power just took all my energy and left me with very little. I've been sick since Tuesday morning. It's Thurs and I'm feeling well enough to...obviously, blog. Today is the first day that I woke up without a fever. Or at least, I don't feel like I have one.

It's so miserable to be sick alone at home. But then yesterday, Kurt brought Kay and Cathy over to have lunch with me. But I didn't have the energy to even talk to anyone. So I didn't leave my bedroom. Though I longed for company, having company...or even the mere thought of having company, made me exhausted to just think about the motions. So that made me even more miserable.

I don't even have the energy to talk on the phone because I don't have the energy to keep a conversation going. I feel like I have to make people who call me feel better and that involves expending energy which I don't have right now.

I have to pace myself and think about how I am logistically going to walk to the bathroom because I don't even have the energy to turn over. It sucks.

So I am going to end here coz I am exhausted thinking.

Off to bed. Again. Sigh.

Misery.

******

Update: What I had was severe depression. After weeks of hypomanic activities--no sleep, racing thoughts, several ambitious projects started and physical activities, I finally reached the breaking point. So I fell into depression that affected me physically. I was literally paralyzed with exhaustion and desperation. Suicidal thoughts. Overwhelming feelings of uselessness. To date, the projects I started will be added to more unfinished projects. The list grows. Falling into these funks really take toll. However, I can't wait until the next hypomanic event. I need one right now.

A RELATIVELY GOOD DAY

I did have a good day today. I had a great class with so much participation, I had to call on every hand raised and 'line them up' so they can all get a chance to ask or to comment. I just LOVED it. I love it when my students ask intelligent questions and make great comments. ANY comment. Every one was engaged in the topic. (Acts 10-11) After class four students who had NEVER tried to pass off their scripture mastery did so and passed. Two of them passed off 6 or 7 of them. What a gratifying time! I just love my students.

The topic we discussed was specifically, how after thousands of years of the priesthood being exclusive only to the Levites and then, after the diaspora, to the house of Judah, Peter receives a vision and revelation to preach to the "uncircumcised" or the gentiles. Whoa. Can anyone imagine how the disciples must have felt? I mean, after THOUSANDS of years of exclusivity, they must now pass on the priesthood to the gentiles??? And how for thousands of years, the Jews didn't have any dealings with gentiles...let alone allow them to hold callings in the church? Mind boggling. Anyway, I loved that for every salient point, there was a scripture reference to back up the doctrine or principle. And every time my students 'discovered' them, they were also astonished and awed. And interested. Engaged. I live for days like this in seminary.

In other news, I went to the gym again today. Had another session with my trainer, Vanessa, who truly works me to DEATH. I mean, a good death. I made my friend Stacy come with me. She did fantastic and I love it that she encourages me to do better. I wish she would just join the club and work out with me coz it's so much more fun to work out with a buddy.

Got a nice text from Kristy Camp who just dropped off Nate at the MTC this morning. I feel for her. I remember so well every moment when we dropped off Leland at the MTC. I did not cry because I told myself I wouldn't. But as soon as I got back to the car for the drive home, I was sobbing all the way back. The worse part of the MTC experience was when we were led out one door and then all the missionaries went out another. And that was that. I am so glad that's over and done.

I am feeling the pain of not seeing Lucy and Jack. It's been a month since I've seen them and I am just about fit to be tied. I can't wait until the 21st when I get to see them.

I was navigating around the lds.org site and spotted a link for senior missionaries. Found a pdf file that stipulates what the missionary dress requirements are. The photo above tells it all. YIKES. DOUBLE YIKES. I'll be darned if I look like that. And then it occurred to me that there are actually senior missionaries YOUNGER than me who look that way. $(*%_&*@*)(*!!! Does this mean I no longer want to go on a mission??? (One other rule: no patterned stockings---what? I wear fishnets for Pete's sake!! And to seminary even!) What about my cute boots? My RED suede booties that I wear with black fishnets? My 3 inch Calvin Kleins?? I'll have to think about these things tomorrow because I can't bear to think about them right now. What a heathen!

Oh. And what about my red streaks on my hair? My purple eye shadow? False lashes that I wear EVERY day? Missionaryish?

Anyhoo, I better git.

GLOOMY SAD DAY

I was only too happy to substitute for the most beloved of seminary teachers one day last week. She was sick and I insisted that she stay home and that I will teach her class the next day.

The day came and I went into her classroom with much enthusiasm. After all, she had bragged that her class was a good one this year. It was 7am and the seats began to fill. There was the usual discomfort that comes when a class is presented with a strange teacher. I tried hard to bridge that by being upbeat. I asked a lot of questions to spark some thinking and involvement. In the end, I thought the class was a good one. I thought we all had a fabulous time.

The next day, Wednesday, was uneventful and that class got their teacher back. She had needed that free day to rest and everything went as usual. Or so I thought.

Thursday came and after my 6am class, I was confronted by this teacher who had a very concerned and troubled look on her face. She told me that her class told her that I had 'trashed' her and made some unflattering remarks about her to her class. She said that several of her students made the same observation. They told her that I had said things like: "Now I'll show give you a real lesson unlike what you get from your teacher" or something to that effect. I was mortified. Since she said that several students made that allegation, I was dumbfounded and began to search frantically in my brain to figure out what I could have said that could even remotely be spun to this dastardly level of arrogance on my part. I felt sick to my stomach. I began to doubt even what I thought happened. Perhaps I said those things. Perhaps I had some kind of black-out and said those things. I was insanely confused.

I reasoned with her that I could NOT have even remotely said those things because those thoughts never even occurred to me. I respected her far too much. She was the one I went to when I came upon challenges with teaching seminary. She was my adviser and friend. I was so confused.

She said she'd get to the bottom of it.

The next day, she called me to tell me that it was just ONE student who made those assertions in class when she came back. And the rest of the class played along with his lies. She became confused and stewed in those words of intrigue and hate to the point that she doubted me. That boy who started it had problems and his intention was to hurt her by using me. And some of the students, who still inhabit the world where everything revolved around them, colluded with him just because it was funny. After all, adults don't have feelings. They had managed to play a nice game where they hurt not just their teacher but also the substitute---me.

For some reason, this whole event really affected me. Still does. I don't really need this drama in my life right now and I hope that something is done and consequences are allowed to follow this dastardly, cowardly act. I know this boy comes from a very troubled and disfunctional family but he needs to apologize. Tomorrow, I am going to insist that he does.

This is not the reason that I want to quit seminary but it could well be the straw that will break the camel's back.

***********

Follow up to this story:

A couple of students talked to her and said none of those things happened and I never said those things. But then a couple of other students said that I implied those things. The boy in question insists that I had said outright things that 'trashed' the teacher and said he will not apologize. I am so confused.

But my focus is to teach and prepare my students to become missionaries, scripture savvy mothers and well-prepared teachers of the gospel. My goals for being a seminary teacher are:

1. To help students become familiar and comfortable with the 'language of the scriptures'. This means that I do make them get their scriptures, open them, read them and ask questions.

2. To help them acquire the skills needed to pick out doctrines and principles from the scriptures and make these relevant to their times.

3. To aid in helping them discover these truths for themselves by providing activities that will enable them to dig.

4. To bear testimony of Christ.

I just figured that if I do my job well and serve my students this way, I will just naturally develop love and caring for them. This I assume, takes time. And it doesn't happen until the middle of the school year or so before I really feel this way. But I KNOW it does happen. How can it not when you are serving? So I just trust that it will happen. And it does.

I've been contemplating quitting seminary for a while. LIke I said, all I need is an event like this to be the straw that will break the proverbial camel's back.

More update:

I don't really care anymore. I'll just do my job. There will always be students like this...but rarely. There are plenty more young people who are wonderful. I'll just focus on that.

The Miracles We Don't See

Nate was supposed to take Hannah to the airport last Monday so she can catch a very early flight back to Utah. He wanted to do it. It would be the last time he would see her before he leaves for his mission. He would have to get here at 5:30am so Hannah can make it to her flight.

5:35 came and no sign of Nate. We texted him. We rang his cell phone to no avail. So at 5:50, 110 minutes before her flight, we got in our car to take her. As Hannah broke down and cried in the back seat, I was trying so hard not to get disappointed at Nate. I had asked him 3 times if he was sure he could make it and every time, he reassured me he would make it. He slept through his alarm clock. And all those phone calls. I knew he would feel TERRIBLE when he wakes and realizes what just happened.

Hannah, thinking that she would have one more short moment with Nate before she leaves was crushed. And Nate, after he awoke, was beside himself. He was so flustered that he got his text messages mixed up. Oh how he must have felt.

Frustrated, disappointed and a sick feeling welling in my stomach, I was groping for words to say or something to hold on to before I called Nate and assisted in helping him feel worse about himself. Suddenly these words came to my head independent of everything that I was feeling: you will never know the miracles that were wrought upon your loved ones today. I began to calm down. Words came to me...in fact, they were not really words anymore but concepts that were flowing into my head. I do not believe in coincidences. All moments have meaning. The sweetest miracles are those that we don't see--miracles that are composed of things that didn't happen. There are miracles that are invisible because they are the direct results of things that didn't happen.

I pondered the thought and while I did so, an overwhelming feeling came upon me. It was the love of a Heavenly Father who knows us all by name and who takes control over all things--especially the things we don't see.

This realization made me tender and want to love others more. God's miracles often times are just very soft and tender whisperings that he loves us. And because he does, calm is restored and trust, love, reassurance and an overwhelming feeling of completeness takes over.

Indeed, many miracles may have been wrought this cold, blustery morning. The days when Nate and Hannah were together were beautiful days---perfect temperatures, beautiful days and nights. On this morning, as their paths separated, the day seemed to commiserate as if Nature herself knew the sadness that they felt about being separated for a time. And yet, as I drove home from the airport, a sense of peace came upon me and a growing sense of gratitude filled my longing heart. We will never know the miracles that happened this morning because the miracles were simply composed of things that did not happen. And the biggest miracle of all is that I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the things that did not happen were wrought by a loving Heavenly Father whose tender mercies held us all in one whisper soft embrace.

And all I wanted to do was bow my head and with all that I have give thanks to God for allowing Nate to sleep through his alarm clock and remain where he is safe; having that perfect assurance that the beautiful young woman he loves will continue to love and support him---and allowing Hannah to safely return to BYU with many wonderful memories of her special time with the young man she loves--memories that will fill her waiting heart.

Nate's Farewell

I stole the above photo from Nate's Facebook. I love the expressions on their faces.

Nate's Farewell

Tomorrow is Nate's 'farewell'. They are going full production with it complete with flyer style invitations and an open house. Nate picked up Hannah last night to have dinner with his family, some of whom traveled near and far to celebrate this wonderful event. I was a bit concerned because I did not want Hannah to feel 'out of place' but the Camps have been so wonderful to her. For that, I am very, very grateful and appreciative.

Tomorrow will be the last time that Hannah will see Nate for 24 months. He leaves for the Scotland Edinburgh (Scottish Gaelic: Dùn Èideann) mission two weeks later. We are all anxious to hear him speak tomorrow. I flew Hannah home just for this occasion because when you realize how much they both feel for one another, the rest is simply elementary.

Nate and Hannah picked me up from the airport today. I was in New York City and had a wonderful day there before I had to fly back. I took them to lunch and we had a fabulous time together. It was heartwarming to see the two look radiantly happy to be together. Everything seems to be clicking marvelously for them.

I'll keep this blog unfinished for now until the farewell and if I have any thoughts, I'll post them here.

*******

It's Sunday afternoon but it seems like early evening here. That's disturbing.

We indeed went to Nate's farewell. There were 4 speakers. I have to say that I enjoyed Nate's talk the best simply because it was earnest, sincere and heartfelt. No pontificating. No showing off. No preaching. I truly enjoyed it. The second speaker did mention that Scotland has no idea of the blessings that are about to arrive in their midst with Elder Nathan Camp. I tried hard not to cry when he said that but cry I did. It's because it's true.

I changed Hannah's flight back twice. In the beginning, I knew she NEEDED to go back on Monday but she insisted on going back Sunday afternoon. Well, all it needed was Nate's magic and poof---Hannah is leaving, as I envisioned in my head, on Monday early morning. EXACTLY the way I see it in my head. That's scary that I can do that but on the other hand, if people would just listen to me, it would prevent a whole lot of trouble and plus, one can make good use of the time by planning ahead.

There's an open house tonight at the Camps and I would like to go and share the evening with them---see and experience their joy and exuberance over Nate's decision to serve a mission. In any case, I almost wish he were already gone so things can move forward. The waiting for the wait to begin is simply...unnecessary at this point.

That's all I have to say about this....for now.

********************************

Feb 2, Monday

Nate came to say good-bye tonight. He brought us a book written by his BOM teacher at BYU that he enjoyed reading and we really appreciated it very much. He leaves on Monday for their cabin and then the next day for SLC to spend time with his grandmother LaRue (who I just love) and then will get dropped off at the MTC on Wed, Feb 11 at 11:30. It was such a pleasure to have him visit even if it was to say good-bye. We just told him that we will see him around this time in 2 years. Suddenly, two years seemed a long time...only because we have enjoyed having him around.

Hannah and Nate seemed to glow together. They are, in a big way, inseparable but both looked happy and eager to look forward to the times ahead. I know things will work out for them but this separation certainly will try and refine whatever it is that they have that seems to keep them solidly together.

I was suddenly hit by a certain sadness and foreboding that I couldn't really define.

That's all I'm going to say about that.

Oh. And I received another email from David Scow. His family has been wonderfully generous to forward his emails from his mission. This time, the email came with another picture of him and a local family. He looked so different from all of them...and a bit lost. My heart got sad too that he was so far away and yet he is about to reach his 7th month and whoa...that was fassssst.

That's all I'm going to say about that for now.

I love that these wonderful young men are on their missions. But I sure do miss having them around.

Wendy Anae, coach of BYU Women's Basketball and sister to Robert Anae, defensive coach of BYU Football, Hina Hunkin, my favorite French-Tahitian and moi.

*********************

I have been besieged lately by crazy comments and questions about looking younger than my age which is so annoying because I'm discovering more and more little wrinkles and sagging than I care to even mention. This is so comical to me because well, first of all, I'm Asian. You should see my friend Nori. She is about to kiss 50 but she looks like a 20 year old! Anyway, to Caucasians, we seem to age very, very slowly. But we Asians on the other hand, can see very well how we age because we see ourselves differently. It's a paradox.

But in thinking about it, I began to consider WHO were making these comments and in considering that, I've come up with pretty clever observations.

First, most of the women who ask what I'm doing have themselves 'given up'. I mean, just because we are in our 50s doesn't mean that we have to dress or look dowdy. What I've noticed is that most of them don't use make-up to even out their complexion. As Caucasians age, their skin seems to get ruddy and the colours uneven. That ages them. It would be easy to just take time and find the right type of foundation--cream, liquid, powder or mineral--whatever works for their skin type. That doesn't require much and they SHOULD take the time. Secondly, I think they need to learn how to apply or better yet, blend concealers under their eyes and under their brows. This takes some experimentation and practice because the skin around our eyes can be very thin and so applying highlighters/concealers can actually make it look worse if not mastered correctly. This is not hard to do. All you need is a good mirror and realistic eyes. I think when we age, we lose our playfulness and the joy of experimentation and it shows in the way we dress and present ourselves. That's when we begin to look shabby. So experiment, practice and search for the right foundation and concealers.

Next, I think that as we age, our lips lose their definition. What's the problem with wearing lipstick? I mean, if moms in their 40s and 50s go to church with red lipstick, does that mean that they're 'looking'? Sheeezzz, sometimes I think Mormons have such dirty minds. Yeah---red lipstick can do wonders! There's also a way to use lipstick so that the pigment doesn't run through the vertical wrinkles around the lips. Again, this takes experimentation.

Speaking of lips, here's another biggee: your teeth. It's easy to purchase one of those whitening strips for your teeth but it takes effort to actually do it. Well---do it. Yellow teeth simply add 10 years to one's face. And if you're in your 50s, yellow, uncared for teeth make you look ancient and decrepit---so add 20 years! Invest in your smile. It's the easiest way to remove years from your face!

So then, how about getting a good haircut? I think its a worthy investment. Hair is your crown and yeah-- get a good haircut! And for Pete's sake---do they have to wear their gray like a badge of honor? Crap. There's nothing good about gray hair unless you get a professional colourist to do it for you WITH a good haircut. Dull hair is a crime. I've invested in some wonderful wigs that I wear when I have a bad hair day or when I just feel like it. I look at it like....wearing a nice hat. Wigs are now made so unbelievably well at affordable prices. Again, experiment. Everytime I go to my favorite wig store I try on at least a dozen before I find one that makes me look good!

How about your shoes? Do they have to be eeekily banal? ANd is eekily a word? Nevermind. Shoes! I love shoes! Wearing high heels is an ability one has to acquire. If you give up that ability, you will forever be cast into the dowdy shoe outer darkness. Comfort is NOT an excuse. Work into it again! I used to be able to run wearing 3 inch stiletto heels. Not anymore. First of all, I have more weight to pack. Secondly, I gave up the ability. Now I am working up to it. I can be comfortable with 2.5 inch kitten heels. I'm working my way up. Just because I'm 53 doesn't mean I can't wear those sexy high heels! Oh my gosh---look at Tina Turner.

And lastly, check out the latest magazines for good fashion sense. True, there are certain styles I'd never consider that women in their 20s or even 30s can get away with. But why would I want to wear a tunic with lace leggings? But consider this: women in their 50s don't have to limit their palette to black or neutral colours. And we don't have to wear suits to look believable. We can wear sexy jeans. We can wear yellow. We can punch that dark suit with a red scarf or...hey even wear purple tights with those boots! And fishnet stockings. Yeah. I wear those. Why the hell not?

While I haven't had botox in over two years, I would have no compunction whatsoever about doing it. I've just been lazy because my doctor moved west side and I'm too lazy to find another to do the deed. But I'll do it as soon as I can. Oh and a couple of syringes of Restylane to smooth out my furrows and the naso-labial creases. Yeah. Painful. Oh so painful but after the deed, I will look like I went on a long vacation to Paris and came back totally renewed and serene. I'd do that again too. It's been three years since that first experience but I'd totally do it again.

Oh, and let's not forget that I've started going to the gym again. I haven't lost an ounce yet but I can see the difference already just in that extra spring in my step. And giving up sugar and white flour really does change your countenance...though I do cheat on more than one occasion. After all, I'm 53 and I can do whatever the hell I want.

And here's a postscript: I don't let being overweight paralyze me into thinking that I can only wear black to make me look smaller. Who would I be kidding? Matter occupies space and the space my matter occupies cannot be camouflaged. So that's that.

So I stumbled home just a few minutes ago from a 70 minute work-out session with my new trainer, Vanessa. She worked me to death even if my numbers were just at beginner's level. She knew exactly how much to push me at every station or machine we were using...except for the sit-ups. She definitely pushed me past my limit there. And the squats. She underestimated how bad I was.

I cannot believe that I have a weight problem. And I cannot believe that I let myself get so out of shape. I wish that I could get addicted to exercise the same way I am addicted to food, glorious food!

Anyway, I posted the picture above because I feel like those Hawaiians who were pushed off the edge of the cliff of Pali.

Definitely.

Seeing Lola Again

Top (l-r) Pedro and Dolores de Rama
Bottom: L-R My great-grandparents Francisca and Felix de Rama with my father,
Enrique on Felix's lap

**************

I fell asleep on the nice red leather couch yesterday after teaching 6am seminary and had a dream. It was one of those dreams where you were aware of and can hold on to what's real but strangely accept the inconsistencies and the bizarre that you see in a dream.

I was in a strangely familiar house full of mismatched old furniture. It was my paternal grandmother's though it existed only in the dream. I seem to recognize some of the furniture and believed that they once belonged to various members of the family. I called my grandmother "Lola' which is the Tagalog endearment for grandmother. Lola had covered most of the couches and chairs with old fabric of many muted colours dulled with age and it felt to me like they were dusty and musty though I knew in my dream that that was only my impression and so may or may not be true. I sat on a green and white striped cushion while I watched Lola mill about in the rooms.

The room I was in was long and there was a doorway that opened into what seemed like a parlour in the middle of the room. I proceeded to enter and saw Lola busy in front of an old sewing machine working on another project. I suddenly felt tender inside and wanted my Lola to feel my love. Somehow I also knew that my Lolo (Grandpa) was not with her. And strangely, I was aware that in a previous dream that I had of her, she was living in a smaller, darker and dank house. This was now an upgrade.

I tried to form a question in my mind that I wanted to ask her and as I attempted to ask that question, I suddenly woke up. The question was: What is the most important lesson that you learned in your life? I was still in between sleep and wakefulness and I screamed in my head: Go back! Go back! But it was futile. I was now wide awake.

I miss my Lola. And I was glad to see her.