The One Question

I just woke up from a dream.

God asked me if I would be willing to give my life for any of my children if it meant that they wouldn't have to suffer. Never before had I seriously contemplated such a thought. But suddenly, I felt an overwhelming relief that that choice could actually exist.

"That's all I have to do?" I was astonished that there was a way I could secure that outcome.

"Yes, I would give my life for them."

And then I woke up....happy.

I've Walked This Trail Before

There is an old Filipino story that goes like this:

One day, a daughter decided that she was tired of her mother who was ill. And since she knew that her mother was ill and about to die, she came upon an idea. So one bright morning, she told her mother that they were going to take a walk to the jungle. Her thought was that she could walk her into the deepest parts of the jungle and then leave her there. She would be lost and never make her way back home. And she would be rid of her meddling ways. She was tired of hearing her mother's unsolicited advise and attempts to tell her how to live her life. She thought that she knew more things now because she was younger, wiser and more savvy. Her mother was old and did not know the ways of the new world she lived in. So she decided to lose her in the jungle.

As they walked further and further and deeper into the jungle, she talked to her mother about her plans for the future, pleasantly chatting away so she can entertain her....so she wouldn't realize that they were already deep into the jungle and far away from home. Though it was just a ploy, she suddenly realized that her mother may already know what was about to happen. She wondered why she didn't give her any clue that she knew what was happening. Throughout the walk, her mother, probably in an effort to pass the time, kept on breaking branches from trees and throwing these branches along the side.

When the daughter finally decided that they had gone as deep as they could so she can leave her mother there, she asked her why she kept on breaking off the branches. Her mother sat on the ground, tired, spent, resigned to her fate, said: to ensure that you can find your way back home.

How we hate our parents

The title of this blog is misleading. I'd like to think that we can't really hate our parents. And there is some context to this. Take note of this scripture in Luke 14:26

If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple.

Of course further context is given once we inspect the footnotes referencing "hate" to Matthew 10:37-

He that loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of me: and he that loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.

It becomes obvious then what "hate" really means. As I write these thoughts that came to me as an epiphany after a year of trying to figure out something that was amiss, I hope that I can shed some light as to what I am trying to say here because I am organizing my thoughts as I go. The thing about some 'aha' moments for me is that sometimes an understanding of what perplexed me will come as a complex whole and I have to somehow pick at that fertile vision to understand its components so I can see how it affects my circumstances.

I am an Asian parent with a strong desire to mold and shape my children into what I think they need to be. It's ingrained in my DNA and culture--though I am not sure that this is cultural. I am certain that part of the nature of being a responsible parent is to fulfill that role. The responsibility is a sobering one especially for us as Latter-day Saints. But inextricably mixed into that mantra are variables that affect our own expectations that give shape to that proverbial mold--culture, socio-economic strata, education, caste, religion, experience, intelligence, circumstances, geographic regions and even trauma. 

The scriptures tell us that we are to raise our children in the ways of truth and righteousness. Under perfect circumstances our goal is to know the mind and will of the Father at all times. Thus the mold we use is not one of our own choosing or make but the one that not just resembles God but is identical. Unfortunately, our "mortal-ness" often enough does not allow for that clarity. Therein lies the rub and raising children as well as being raised by parents become a complex dance of choices, perspective and hopefully, elegant execution. And more often than we would like, it can also be an ugly chaos made up of bad choices, unhealthy and skewed outlooks on life, broken relationships and isolation. 

As parents, we are locked into that responsibility and duty to raise our children the best way we know how and often, despite the notion that we are educated and well-informed, our efforts will always be lacking. Nevertheless, we have no recourse but to do our best.

As we stumble through the process of parenting, it is inevitable that we have our own expectations that our children have to meet. Often, as in my case, expectations are related to our own inability to reach our own parents' expectations as well as our own expectations. The alternative is impossible and tragic. Not to have any expectations is impossible--positive or negative they may be. Expectations are ingrained in our own make-up.

The attention we give our children comes with a host of these expectations and haplessly, in my zeal to expect my own grade of excellence, these expectations can result in an enormous amount of pressure on my children. To combat and survive these pressures, children will often develop armours to guard against them. The armour they build around them protect them from their parents' disappointments for not reaching their daily 'quota' of good deeds or accomplishments, as well guilt and lack of confidence. Often the armour they use is anger. Or withdrawal. Or a compulsive need to do the opposite of what's expected. To rebel. And sadly, though the target of these aggressions or reactions are the parents, the ones who receive the most damage are the children themselves. Because most of their energy go into this resistance, children often feel confused--even empty. This sort of reaction, this armour is called a 'false self'--a personality that is developed to deal with a parents excessive expectations or even too little expectations. And oftentimes, this 'false self' will spill into other facets of their lives.

This phenomenon is universal in the western world. If this is so, how do we gain a balance so that our children can be raised without this pressure? And how do we gauge that from child to child when every child in the family is different? If there an answer to this? If this pressure is built into the ties that bind parents to their children and vice-versa, is it a losing proposition? Are we just supposed to rearrange the deck chairs in the Titanic?

I am a mother AND a daughter myself and as I ponder these observations, I am calmed by the knowledge that Christ has descended below all things. Yes, even below these pressure-cooker, nitro-glycerin packed relationships. He understands me from both angles--from the standpoint of a daughter who cannot satisfy her parents expectations, who feels like a failure and who still does not know what to be when she grows up. And He understands me from the standpoint of a mother who has devoted her time, energy and talents into raising four children and feels woefully guilty about her errors, omissions and poorly, lacking execution of parenting good sense.

At some point, as a daughter, it is my responsibility and choice to see my mother as an individual with hopes, dreams and a tremendous sense of responsibility. My mother can feel pain and guilt about her own lacks and mistakes. She also feels a great sense of loss that she seems to be so dismally incapable of improving her relationship with her children simply because she does not have the tools or wherewithal to do so. And I forgive her and appreciate her. And I know she did the best she could. Her very, very best. And I love her for it. There is much choice in this matter. I can now choose to disarm myself from all those pressures and become more at peace with myself forgiving myself for being so hard and blaming my parents. Most of all, I can choose to align myself with their expectations and realize that they existed solely because they are part of the nature of being parents. These are choices I can make and I can release myself from the shackles of these expectations and attempt to rise above them because achieving excellence is not a bad thing after all.

As a mother, I am beset with guilt over my own errors and irrational expectations---that I can hold my children hostage to all those demands. What can I do to appease the demands of my conscience? There is not much within my control because my peace has to come only from my own children's forgiveness, love and acceptance; and hopefully, appreciation. And it flows that way. It has to.

My father once visited me in a dream. He said to me, "Christie, I have something very important to tell you. Remember that what you do here on earth affects me here in the Spirit World." 

I thought that this notion was a novel one and so I asked him, "Papa, how do I know that it's you and not me dreaming this?" 

Then he said, "I am going to tell you a joke, that's how!"

He then proceeded to tell me a joke that unfortunately, I cannot quite translate into English because the joke will be lost. But the important point is that it is the exact kind of joke that only my father could have invented. I laughed so hard in my dream. And I woke up laughing. And I knew he had been with me.

Whatever I do affects my father who has now passed on for over 20 years. I believe that my forgiveness and love does affect him where he's at. And I do love him ever so much.

Unfortunately, because it goes this direction, I pray that my children will make kind choices regarding their mother and most especially, that they can understand how this phenomenon works so they can be at an advantage. Knowledge is a powerful tool and this understanding is what I can give them. This is why I write. Because what I wish is that they will carry on knowing that these expectations are inextricably woven into the fibers of parenthood and as they reach the level of maturity where they can be forgiving and kind, they can free themselves from the shackles of the pressure that comes with expectations. Unfortunately, these types of wisdom and understanding that comes not just by experience but by careful study, ruminating, assessing, contemplation and yes, personal revelation cannot be bequeathed to generations to come except by articulation. Every generation has to start over. At times realizations of this sort come by some divine serendipity.And thus, I write.

I hope that they can realize that they can be themselves without penalty of disappointment whether it be from their parents or themselves. The way we see the world is a choice that we make and that includes the way we can forgive our parents for having too much expectations that we can handle or too little that we need. I hope that the desire to know themselves more deeply through their parents can be magnified WITHOUT the experience of estrangement because all too frequently, we only realize the value of something when it is gone.

Finally, one never really knows what selfishness is without the experience of having children. There is order in this knowledge. And a calm reassurance in the knowledge that as my children have their own children, they will hopefully appreciate this phenomenon that I have described. And that as their own expectations are formed as they raise and mold their own children, they can perhaps find a better balance than I ever could have accomplished. But I am almost certain that there will be a point as they ponder that delicate balance when they will remember their mother and how much I love them....and how my dreams and hopes for their future were, after all, despite my many imperfections borne out of the same deep and abiding love that they now feel for their own children. And then they can remember me kindly. And so it goes. And on and on, worlds without end.

The Spectre of Expectations

Everyone has expectations. Some are obvious. Some can be deceiving. Yet some can be hidden. We all expect something from others and we all expect some things to happen. After all, without expectation, there can be no hope. Living up to others' expectations can be a dangerous matter. After all, our PERCEPTION of what others expect from us may be totally different from the real truth. And where we are in our lives sometimes makes this paradox more complicated.

As a young woman, I perceived that my parents' expectations were unreasonable. I wanted to blaze my own path and in my need for independence, I felt that I wanted to do the opposite of what they expected...or rather, the opposite of what I PERCEIVED to be their expectations. My parents had high standards for me. After all, I was a national science scholar so I felt that they expected me to excel in school, get graduate degrees and then become some kind of high ranking corporate mover and shaker....cure cancer or make the world better....make headlines and have alphabet soup after my name.  And as Mormons, I was also expected to marry someone in the temple when there was no temple in the Philippines or anyone desirable to take me there. Everything seemed stupid to me. And unattainably overwhelming. So I just wanted to rebel. And why not? I did not want to deliver to them any degree or any success. I guess I was afraid to fail. Or simply wanted to be my own person..different from anyone's expectations. I just wanted to be me. Now I have no idea now in my old age what the hell that means but that was my rallying cry. I just want to be "me". Now, less than 4 years before I turn 60, I just want to be what my parents wanted me to be. Oh how I wish.

The truth of the matter is, this has been the cycle for eons---young people wanting so much to exert independence at any cost---even if the cost will hurt them in the long run. As young people we never seem to want to acquiesce to the possibility that our parents or others who have gone before us are right. Here's a novel idea: if man only had one life to live and if let's say, we tracked down what those who have lived a long life have learned during their lifespan, what would they teach us that can help us....that can spare us unnecessary difficulties and allow us a head start? And why wouldn't we want that advantage? Are we stupid enough to want to suffer because it's OUR suffering and we own it? What kind of garbage shit is that?

Here's an observation: as an Asian and also as a Mormon, I've observed that most parents want their children to learn to play a musical instrument. It's like a moral imperative to have our children learn to at least play the hymns on the piano. And some children take to the lessons....and then some absolutely hate it and at some time during their teen years, they decide that they don't want to play or take lessons anymore because it's such a bother and mom is such a nag for MAKING them take piano lessons. Well, I've never....NEVER ever heard anybody say, "I hate my mother for MAKING me take piano lessons." And I've heard so many people lament about how foolish they were not to take advantage of their parents' generosity. Or even sadly, others lament that they never even had the opportunity to learn at all.

But what if what our parents expect from us are simply what's BEST for us? Here's what I know:

1. A college degree is NEVER a waste. A graduate degree is a definite advantage.

2. Parents have seen more things than you have so they can spot potential problems that you can't see or refuse to consider. So if they warn you, don't marginalize that or get offended. Time lived on earth MATTERS.

3. Parents have more experience than our peers and can 'see' and even foresee things that our peers can't. I mean, why ask for advise from someone who's going through the same jungle? Why not ask the ones who know the way through it?

4. If a parent provides opportunities for learning, growth, development of any talent or ability, or any kind of help, BE GRATEFUL.

5. One day when you have children, you will also want the best for them....no matter how you interpret what's best for them....and you will be convinced that what you think is best for them IS what's best for them.

6. All parents expect to be appreciated.

7. All parents appreciate their own parents after being parents themselves. And when their parents are gone, they wish they were still around so they can ask their advise.

8. There's nothing wrong with wanting our children to excel. It's a moral imperative as a parent. Even God himself expects us to 'make our calling and election sure'. (2 Peter 1:10)

9. Do not be disappointed if your parents advice coincides with what the Spirit compels you to do. Often the need to assert independence may take precedence over doing what's right just because what your parents advised you to do is actually what you should do and you don't want it to be right because you don't want to do what your parents advise you to do. RESIST this temptation. It is merely your own pride.

10. So what's wrong if your parents want you to have everything or expect you to be successful financially? Or expect you to excel? Or expect the best from you? Is that bad?

What I discovered is that in my old age, I just want a re-do and do the things my parents expected me to do. I wish I studied better. I wish I didn't goof off. I wish I had taken advantage of their sacrifices that allowed me to study abroad. I wish I had enjoyed their generosity and been more grateful. I wish I had seen that they are just humans...people trying to do their best with what they have been allotted in life. I wish I didn't have to ride my moral high horse so high. I wish I had tried harder. I wish I got that degree. I wish I didn't judge them so harshly. And now that I am old, I long to hear their stories and want so much to understand them as people....as my equal.

Expectations allow us to soar. It's a matter of attitude. We can change the world by adjusting how we view it. Life on earth is so precious that there must not be any waste longing for things that we don't have because the Lord has already given us so much. What we need to inspect and continue to assess and evaluate is how we are using the resources that we already have...to see the miracles and the divine providence of God in our lives. There are no accidents and coincidences. Even the challenges we have are there to refine us. And what we already hold in our hands may be the key to our full potential. With the balance of my life, I hope I can still fulfill those expectations that will allow me to excel and fulfill the full measure of my creation.

2258 F. Aragon Sta Ana, Manila. The five door apartment we used to own. We lived on the far left.

Me and Ellen, my sister. I am sitting on the chair and wearing my blue uniform. I am missing my grey tie. Ellen is wearing a pink uniform with a white collar and tie. This was the uniform for the Ellinwood Church Kindergarten School. I am in first grade at the Union Elementary School, Philippine Christian College. Our schools were across the street from each other. I am six years old and Ellen is 5. 

Performing in the USS Midway with Steven Boothe. I learned to play the guitar by myself and got so good that it allowed me to travel the world with BYU-Hawaii. My father set me up to learn from other musicians and taught me how to listen so I can play chords by ear. He had such huge plans for me. (July 1975. I was 19 years old)

Since my parents did not have sons, I was always expected to serve a mission. That was one expectation I was happy to have accomplished. It served me well. I was the first Filipino national to enter the MTC and the first Filipino to serve in Europe. This was taken in Logroño, Spain where I served 7 months. Happily.

Here I am a new mother with weeks old Jordan. On my face you can see how happy I was....how I had dreams and expectations that the baby I had in my arms will change the world. I think all mothers feel that way about their children. I can't imagine not having any dreams for my children. And conversely, I think its our responsibility as children to deal with that phenomenon in a manner that breeds joy and appreciation because the alternative is unthinkable....and sad. Its our responsibility to use this phenomenon to empower us instead of approach it as a millstone around our necks--or as an excuse to punish our parents for having dreams that are impossible to attain.

London By Default

Kurt and I were just about ready to leave our hotel room in Mission Viejo, CA at around 9:45am when Hannah and Tascha called. I actually can't remember if they called or I did but they were both on my mind that morning because I knew they were about to board their plane to London for their much anticipated sisters' trip. And Kurt and I were in Orange County for a little get away because I was feeling very overwhelmed by events of the week. Tascha was very sick--nauseated, weak, chills, diarrhea, cramps. There was no way she was going to make that flight and they were going to be boarding in 30 minutes. Hannah didn't know what to do. I had to make a quick decision. So I told Tascha not to board the flight and instructed Hannah to go ahead and make the flight and I will get to London as soon as I can to meet her on the next available flight. Hannah began to cry. I did not even know that I could do that. I didn't even think about a passport. I had already packed for the weekend so the worst part of packing was done...which involved cosmetics and such. But I had no idea if I can even get a flight out...or how soon. But there was a definite clarity about my quick decision as though I could see in my mind's eye that there was a seat on a particular flight just for me. I told Hannah to take a London cab to the hotel and wait for me there and I will be there as soon as I can. Things just happened quickly. I found a flight for 8:45pm which would get me in London by 3:30pm the next day. I knew Hannah would arrive that morning so I was relieved. I was even able to choose an aisle seat because the timing was perfect since seats were released 24 hours before the flight and I booked early enough within that time frame. Then Kurt and I drove the 4 1/2 hours back home--just enough time for me to pull some underwear, a couple more shirts and grab my passport. Luckily, Kurt still had some Euros and British pounds from our trip last year. While I got my stuff together, Kurt ran to the drugstore to refill my prescriptions and get some cash. Then I found myself on a British Airways direct flight to London Heathrow. And it happened that quickly. I did not even check the weather.

Hannah happily shows off her Cath Kidston purchase and a giant macaron at the St. Pancras Train Station in London.

When I got to the hotel about 7 hours after Hannah arrived, Hannah wasn't there and there was no message other than 3 voice messages from Kurt. Apparently, she had tried to check in early in the morning and the room was not ready so she left her suitcase and then went on her way. So I checked in and thought maybe I can walk over to the BYU center to check if Hannah was there. As I was walking back to the lift after depositing my luggage in the room, the lift doors opened and out walks Hannah!! I was so happy to see her. She had found a singles ward that met at 2pm and single-handedly, without even a place to refresh, found the meetinghouse! But it took a lot of doing---from finding a net-cafe, to finding an affordable place to get a skirt, to finding the meetinghouse itself. And it was a long walk to and from!! What a resourceful, wonderful young lady she is!! And since it was Easter Sunday, it was so much more meaningful that she made an effort to go to church.

So we had a fabulous time in London. We also went to Paris and when we got there, it was so cold and rainy. Of course, I had NO warm clothes. I did not even give any thought to checking the weather before I left Vegas. I only had 1 pair of jeans and I wore that out all week!! At least I had a pair of boots. Despite the rain, wind and cold, Hannah and I still took the metro and had crepes near the Eiffel Tower, took pictures at the Trocadero, spent some time at the Louvre, had some dinner at a croissanterie and even shopped at Galeries Lafayette with a special stop at Pierre Hermes to get 12 flavours of macarons...two of each!! We spent a good time in our quaint Parisian hotel room just a few blocks away from the Republique circle eating our macarons!

Our quaint Parisian hotel room. Very sparse but super clean with comfy beds and wonderful linen!

Macaron Madness!!! Paris, France April 2012

More pictures:

The fabulous view from our room in Paris!! Buildings from La Belle Epoque.

Our hotel is called The Paris France hotel. At $140 a night, it was a steal! And the location was fabulous---with two metro stops close by. Below is Hannah waiting for our metro. This was our first metro ride the day we arrived in Paris. I prayed when we left London that we would find a nice and fair cab driver in Paris. And we did. The taxi line was long from the station but our cab was SUPER clean, our driver was super decent, dressed so nicely and got us to our hotel quickly. I gave him a nice tip. He was African and his cab smelled so good. We were so grateful especially because it was raining. After that cab ride, we used the super efficient Paris metro system even to our final station to board the Eurostar back to London. We love Paris and anytime is a good time for Paris!!

Just a few steps from our hotel and across from the Republique circle, we found this awesome store called TATI. Of course, that's what I call Natascha so I got Hannah to pose below the name.

A few steps past Tati is the Republique and then to the right of it, the metro stop. Here's Hannah by the Republique.

We went to the Eiffel Tower. (Champs Mars) and took pictures.

And then had crepes to order. (Nutella with banana) Yum.

And then went to the Trocadero for a better shot of the tower.

Then we went to the Louvre,

....and posed.

And I made Hannah pose in front of one of my favorite paintings....just because it's so sad and sentimental. Si tragicque!! 

And then whilst traipsing in the metro tunnels, we found this awesome poster!! Our name is famous in France!! Yipppeeeee!!!

And the next day, we boarded our nice Eurostar train to go back to London. The station in Paris was not as nice as the one in London. But I think they had better snacks. Below is Hannah with her dinner: some kind of veal loaf, cous cous, salmon and a very yummy chocolate dessert with bits of praline.

We had so much fun in London. We even got to watch a nice musical called Ghost based upon the Demi Moore-Patrick Swayze movie. It was a bit cheesy but we both shed a few tears anyway. Hey! We're in London! We can be emotional at the theatre! Below is Hannah as we got off our tube stop on our way to St. Pauls' Cathedral which is just across from the Millennial bridge which we were going to cross to get to the Tate Moderne Museum.

And again below is Hannah in one of the rooms at the Tate with this awesome art made by a Korean artist whose name escapes me. But it's spectacular.

And here's me at the St. Paul's Cathedral. In all of my pictures, I am wearing this jacket which is the only 'warm' thing I packed. It sure was cold but somehow, it didn't matter so much because I was having the most wonderful time with Hannah!

We did have some time to shop. We went to Primark. Hahaha!! The first time I went there this time, I got claustrophobic and started seeing spots before my eyes. I thought I was going to pass out. It was shoulder to shoulder people in one crowded contained, enclosed space. So I didn't fare very well. But the second time we went, I was fully prepared. I took a xanax and did well. Hannah made some awesome purchases. Hannah also took me to the Borough Market where there were so many types of breads, cheeses and all kinds of wondrous food products! Well, it wasn't the Boqueria in Barcelona but it was interesting.... we bought the most wondrous olive oil with white truffles and some gooseberry and elderflower jam. PLUS we got some goat milk ice cream and even when it was wet and cold, Hannah and I still enjoyed eating the ice cream. And I got to take this nifty photo of Hannah by these poor dead bunnies.

Hannah enjoying her goat milk ice cream in a waffle cone.

On our last day in London, we walked over to Kensington Park and had lunch at the Kensington Orangerie. I had fabulous lamb and Hannah had the beet salad which I have to say, was delectable. For dessert, I had the Queen Victoria cake but Hannah's dessert was the best: she had the Eton Mess---a wondrous concoction of whipped cream, bits of meringue and fresh strawberries. Yum. After that meal, we walked over to Notting Hill and to Portobello Road where we got some awesome scarves...and some cupcakes from Hummingbird Cakery.

Sometimes things happen that we totally don't expect. When we got the phone call from the girls, I had to make a quick decision. I am grateful that we have the means for me to just get on a plane to London at the drop of a hat and that I have a passport. Ironically, I was already packed. I did fly coach but it was a direct flight and I was even lucky to get a seat on such short notice. Everything just worked out smoothly. And so I cannot help but think that when things happen, it is good to be prepared. In fact, if we lengthen our stride, we will realize that when unexpected things happen, the Lord does equip us with the wherewithal and ability to overcome challenges and find solutions. And also when unexpected events happen, it is a good thing to roll with the punches and try and make the most of the situation-- to be positive and find joy even in the most unexpected, most challenging times. As it was, Tascha stayed in Provo and it was providential. Her boyfriend got sick and then later during the week, his grandmother died unexpectedly. It was during this week that she and Jared went through some challenges and thus from those challenges, opportunities for an improved and more meaningful relationship were borne. Their relationship is stronger and has reached a new level after having gone through this particular week of personal revelations and realizations. If Tascha had gone to London, those wonderful events might have not happened....or at best, might have been delayed.

And while I had no plans or aspirations to be in London, I found myself suddenly there with my daughter and that week to me was such a revelation in so many different ways. I've discovered many things about myself and about being a mother. Some of these discoveries are frustrating and can really drag me down--realizing for example, how overbearing I can be. Or how overprotective I can be. Or how old and decrepit my body has become. Some revelations are hard to accept. Like realizing that I can be irritating. But then again, I also realized that I can take on the day even when I don't feel like doing or going anywhere...especially when the first two days in London and first day in Paris were dismally drearily wet, cold and...cold and I was so ill-prepared and did not have the right warm clothes. The weather really made me feel a bit defeated. But I fought those feelings and just went out and enjoyed every thing we could see and do. I remembered what it was like when I was young and could go anywhere fearing nothing. That was a good remembrance. Sometimes I feel like my daughter still views me as her enemy. And sometimes, I feel like a millstone around her neck. But I'm her mother and I can't change that. Someday, I hope that I won't feel that way.

London by default in April of 2012 was another revelation. I am still processing the many things I experienced and discovered. Sometimes I wish I had a magic wand and can just be a non-mother. But I don't know what that means....or entails. Sometimes I feel so marginalized and unappreciated. And sometimes, I feel stupid. But I try to rise above these feelings. And it's a fight. And I hope to win it someday.

Eating a giant macaron at the St Pancras Station in London.

Age and its Secret World

I recently received a comment on my Facebook page that was quite a compliment-- an acquaintance confessed that she was "secretly jealous" of how young I look. Woo hoo! I often get asked why I look young and when I look at old photos of me, I can see why there is a bit of surprise about that. There is a huge improvement because I looked OLDER when I was younger. Well, for one, weight DOES add age to how I look. I weighed nearly 40 pounds more at 178 lbs nearly 4 years ago. That was quite a change....a slow one. I think I ate terribly and all that showed up in inflammations and bloating. What we eat ultimately shows up on our faces. And I was not a water drinker. That shows up too. My habits have changed since diabetes. I think diabetes made a difference in my life because I started to care about myself.

I also don't FEEL 56. Instead, I feel like I've lived a few lifetimes in different times and places. Different cultures and spaces. And in every age, circumstance, environment and situation, I've looked at the world through different lenses. And my behaviour-- how I reacted to the world around me, changed accordingly. This is an insight that few people ever take advantage of. We all KNOW it, but not everyone can actually USE this knowledge in a way that will maximize learning and/or how we react to others.

Quite recently, I heard someone try to reprimand a young 4 year old. I hear this type of one-sided exchange frequently....especially whilst shopping or eating out. I watch parents haplessly yell, scream, threaten, talk down, smack...etc their little kids as they run around a restaurant. I've had many mothers advise me to bite my 2 year old whenever he bites me or his brother. I've seen parents get annoyed with their kids when they ask questions like "Why dad?" endlessly...so annoyed that words like "will you shut up already?" freely fly from their mouths. I've seen cold exchanges between young teenagers who talk back at their parents as their parents in turn, threaten them or foolishly negotiate them to behave a certain way. It's craziness at its best.

Learning how people behave within certain age brackets is a notion that is not visited enough though it is a huge factor in promoting harmony, tenderness and love within a family. At 18 months, most children will bite. No one really knows why but they do. Each one of my children bit me and their siblings. My second son would bite so hard his head would shake like a rottweiler and my arms had bruises from his bites. Then he would bite his brother too. Or anyone for that matter. But never did I consider biting him to 'teach him not to bite' others. As if recreating bad behaviour were the key to teaching others to behave better! Madness! Recognizing that this behaviour comes with the territory of that age and therefore understanding that there is no malice intended nor that I didn't give birth to an evil spawn is an advantage. I can anticipate when they are going to bite and try to deflect their intuitive behaviour by giving them something to bite first. Or I simply watch them vigilantly to make sure no biting among the siblings happen. It takes time and patience and yes, I exchanged cleaning the house, reading a book, napping or whatever else I wanted to do for the required time to be vigilant. During that span of time which usually takes several months, I kept my toddler busy doing other things until the compulsion to bite others abates. In the process, we haplessly created wonderful moments together. No anguish, no crying, no yelling, no strife. Sure, sometimes there will be slips along the way but I find that I am able to resume calmness and all is made well as I take the bitten one in my arms and give him or her more attention than they can handle and suddenly, they are alright and ready to return playing again. All is forgiven and calm is restored. There are unexpected, wonderful consequences in the knowing and in the execution of calm resolutions in understanding what behaviours are unique and intrinsic in each age bracket.

Interestingly, most of us become parents during such a time when we are most selfish and are full of zeal and desire to become all that we can be. It comes with our age bracket. Around our 20s and 30s, we are full of ourselves and are seldom teachable. This is the time when we think we know everything and understand the world better than our parents. I believe that there is a reason for this. And it's to our advantage if we so choose. There are many points where circles may intersect and the areas where they overlap depend on where these points lie. And it is up to us to figure out where these areas are and how we can best maximize the benefits.

When children turn 2 or so, they like to ask questions. So why reprimand them for their nature and disposition that God intended for them to have to promote growth and development? Extraordinary things happen when a parent takes the time to look....REALLY look at their children and give them well-thought of, sincere answers. These are teaching moments. If we take the time to answer the first question, take them in our arms, open a book or tell a story on the subject matter....or make up a story....miracles happen. Sure the laundry may not be done and that blogging may not happen....but the miracles that occur when we maximize our stewardship as parents is legion....and totally unimaginable by too busy, too wound up parents. The biggest mistake parents make is to expect their children to behave 'appropriately' by their own standards without taking the time to really THINK about the nature and disposition of their children's age brackets. Babies will cry. Toddlers will run, jump and do amazing feats every chance they get. And most children will get moody when they're tired. Children between 8-12 get very moody and have difficulty bridging being little children and becoming teenagers. Quite amazingly, this is the age bracket when parents and especially mothers begin to 'lose' their children. They think they are suddenly old enough to be left alone or too old to be babied, read to or hugged. Then suddenly they become teenagers with their own set of new behaviours and then mothers pose the usual question: what the heck happened to my child?? The better question should be: where was I when they were becoming teenagers? The burden is upon US parents to KNOW these things and catch them....use the knowledge to all of our advantage.

Children between 5 to 9 LOVE to have conversation. Unfortunately, this is also the time when mothers are far too busy to provide this. It takes TOO MUCH TIME AND EFFORT. And in the process of missing out on this opportunity provided by their age bracket because of laziness and incorrect expectations, we develop a way to 'converse' with our children called 'talking AT them" or looking at them higher than their eyes. We forget to LOOK at our children's faces because we are too uptight in EXPECTING behaviour from them APPROPRIATE to our own prideful expections of how they should behave. So we tell them to "behave appropriately" or tell them that "their behaviour is inappropriate". My advise is "TURN IT AROUND" and learn about how they must be thinking, growing, asking, needing. We MUST PROVIDE THEM WITH THEIR VOICES and give meaning to their emotions. This, to our earthly disadvantage, requires TIME and serious, contemplative thought. And a whole lot of unselfish consideration outside of ourselves...outside of our ego. Unfortunately, we mostly find ourselves simply too busy....and too selfish. In any case, if children do not FEEL LOVED, no amount of correction will be effective let alone be far-reaching in its influence. In the past, adults felt that fear was an effective tool to correct behaviour. It isn't. Love is. Christ himself provided this example and the scriptures are replete with knowledge that conveys this principle. In any age bracket, we have no right to correct if we don't first, LOVE. And when we do exert firmness, we must IMMEDIATELY show an increase in love. This is heaven's formula for success.

Children WILL run around in restaurants and open spaces. It is our responsibility and privilege to get to CHOOSE where this behaviour will take place...and when. And we must be wise and creative enough to figure out 1) how to restructure that behaviour, 2) choose the environment and 3) creatively and thoughtfully replace/deflect or harness their boundless energy to everyone's advantage and JOY. In due time, there is also an age bracket when our children begin to think that they know everything and will no longer need or seek our help, opinion or even approval. That's the time when as parents, we are no longer 'cool' and awesome. If we KNOW and understand how this behaviour works, where it comes from and why, we can again harness that energy---turn it around so it benefits everyone. All these intrinsic, intuitive dispositions are part of human development and refinement and are necessary. Understanding them opens up a secret world full of brightness, knowledge, understanding, oneness and most of all, JOY.

There is much to say about age and behaviour. There is much to learn about how to be creative and imaginative about using this information to edify all whom we love. And there is much I have learned whilst swimming in all of this way above my head. And yet, somehow, God gave me this awareness in such an exquisitely clear and tender way. I believe it was because He gave me the most unbelievable children and this blessing came to me for their benefit....DESPITE my ego and in spite of my weaknesses.

In order to freely see our children, we need to check our baggage outside our homes and put on a new set of lenses. Because in our age bracket---or rather, when we become parents, we take upon us the most noble of all labours and neither fame nor fortune can trump that. And no amount of marginalizing this responsibility can erase the reality that parenting is the most refining and noblest endowment we can ever receive from God.

As our children age and become parents themselves, we suddenly hop into a new age bracket where we realize that our parents accomplished more than we gave them credit. We realize that we were mostly improvising. And we suddenly want to become more teachable. Hopefully, we can find an overlapping area with our children and develop new relationships based on our newly-found wisdom and realizations. That's when we can watch and see how everything that we deemed important and everything we expected are totally different. Hopefully things will unfold and we will have joy in watching our children become better versions of ourselves. The alternative is unthinkable.

My wonderful sons, Leland (2yrs) and Jordan (3yrs).

Cauliflower Squash and Corn Soup

So I'm smiling in the above photo but today, my heart is very heavy. So I posted a seemingly happy photo of me to try and make up how I am feeling today. Pretty darn wasted, exhausted and weary. BUT, yesterday, I did make up a nice pot of soup. I thought I would experiment. How hard can it be to make up basic soup?

So I was going through vegies that I like or would like to like. Cauliflower came to mind as an alternative to broccoli which I just tolerate. Cauliflower absorbs flavours so easily and it has plenty of fiber and nutrients. So then I thought...hmmm....how about adding some squash. And corn? I thought about a lot of other vegies but I settled for this combination.

Here's what I did:

Saute in truffle oil and EVO, one large onion and 5 or so cloves of garlic until the onion is translucent. Then add one cauliflower head all cut up into pieces. I added a little bit more EVO and stirred them all up. Then I added about 1 1/2 cups diced butternut squash and fresh kernels from 3 ears of corn.

After stirring all to combine, I poured 4 cups of organic salt-free, fat-free chicken broth and let them all cook until tender. Then I slowly used my vitamix to puree everything to a fine soup.

I added a bit of curry, sea salt, crushed peppers and a wee bit of fish sauce. After stirring, I pour in a cup of heavy whipping cream and adjusted the seasonings. Then, Mr. Dexter arrived.

I also made a small batch of jam. How hard can that be? I just bought a couple of pints of strawberries, 5 fragrant kiwis and luckily, my friend Lisa Meeks gave me some lemons from her tree. I macerated the fruit, added the juice of 2 small lemons and dumped some sugar into it. Oh...maybe 4 cups. Then I just let it boil until it looked good. It was amazingly yummy with the whole wheat rolls that I got from Shirley's Bakeshop in Provo.

I did set the table using my vintage glass plates and shabby chic tablecloth. I worked most of the day running to the grocery, chopping, prepping, cooking.....It was fun to have the little wee ones. Table talk was, however,  the most exhausting part of the day. Too much baggage being thrown around. That just sucked the joy out of me. And I hated it. The residue from that is still on me and I can't shake anything off of me. So I am trying to think happy thoughts while I contemplate which pill I am going to take to help me sleep tonight.

Of Cassiopeia and Orion's Belt

Well, while we're into remembering, I might as well post a vivid memory from childhood days. The photo below is one that I pinched from an eBay auction. It is a rare photograph of my most favorite reading books: the three volume set called Reader's Digest Encyclopaedic Dictionary. I've been searching for so long for these tomes--not just any edition but the 1962 RED colour edition. The only place I found them online was in this eBay auction in the UK.

My daughter, Hannah, who loves to read, asked me on one occasion, why I don't finish reading the books that I start reading. Frankly, I haven't read any books in their entirely for a long time...the exception being the Book of Mormon which I read all the time. But these volumes were the books that I read from cover to cover, over and over. Especially the 3rd volume. I so wish I could have these books in my hands again.  I vacillate purchasing them because the postage is more expensive than the book themselves! I do love books but these were condensed information of hundreds of stories! And vocabulary words of so many disciplines--anatomy, astronomy, mythology, proverbs, foreign words... Oh the list to me seemed endless and exciting! Well...at least for a 7 year old girl from the slums of Manila.

The third volume contained common foreign phrases--many of them I still remember and committed to memory. There's a section on latin words and phrases. Another section full of famous quotes and proverbs. Then there's a section about Greek and Roman mythology and I memorized the names of these characters, gods and goddesses...and their stories. And I memorized the formations of the constellations named after some of them--Cassiopeia, Pegasus, Orion. I haven't touched this book since I was 10 and I still remember most of the pages as though they were photographs in a museum in my mind. I was about 7 years old when I started reading these volumes. I memorized many, many English words and tried to use them in sentences so I'd remember them. I have such vivid, happy memories reading this particular volume. I think I escaped into it. I have no idea why a 7 year old girl would love these books so much. But love them I did. I am getting all emotional thinking about this set of books and I don't even know why. But every time I go back in time and remember touching the pages of this particular volume, I feel happy. It was where my hopes and dreams were born and where I began to think that there's another world out there where I secretly belonged and needed to be. I think these books saved me from bitterness, hurt and hopelessness. While others were touched by Jane Austen or Ayn Rand or Shakespeare, the little girl that was me only loved reading these books: The Reader's Digest Encyclopaedic Dictionary. This was my Jane Austen and my Wuthering Heights.

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

POST SCRIPT

The book ARRIVED today all the way from Devonshire, England. It is smaller than I remember. Of course, I was only 7 or 8 years old then. I just about bawled when I opened the packaged and pulled it out of the box. What a supreme joy to have it in my hand!! I will be reading it with joyful remembrance!!

My First Line of Defense

One of my best friends observed that I have a very fortified first line of defense--my aura of unapproachableness is so intimidating. She said most people are scared of me because I am very intimidating--that I look like I'm going to bite your head off anytime. I look like I'm saying, "don't come near me unless you have something worthwhile to offer!"

Now I do tend to agree that she's right. That's because she IS right.

Years of abuse and betrayal by people who should be taking good care of me as a little girl has honed my outward defense to an art form. I do show my distrust of people. I am always on guard with an instinct so sharp and honed to recognize potential abusers of any kind or just recognize people who are not being themselves and thus not worthy of my trust. I mean, anytime a person has to put on a face or a mask is a sure symptom that they are hiding something, right? I can smell a poser like a hound dog can smell your unique scent. And my instincts have never, EVER betrayed me. In fact, my safety has been ensured many times because of my gut feelings. So I HAVE to trust it. It has never led me stray. I just cannot doubt or second-guess.

My first line of defense is quite formidable. I have to admit that I've probably lost a good amount of potentially good friends because of it but I am willing to sacrifice them as 'collateral damage' just so I can feel 'safe'.

Once I let you through that first line of defense, you will discover in due time that there is no second line. Or third. I have nothing past the first. I am extremely vulnerable and tender. I will not put up a fight to protect myself because I don't have any tools or wherewithal to help myself. Basically, I am merely a pile of moosh that anyone can kick.

So my only defense has to be effective.

***********

Now I am going to mention my coping mechanism for people who hurt me over and over. I make my heart be very, very hard. Then I visualize the furthest place anyone can possibly reach. I dig a hole there and bury all my pain and hurt. I also bury my feelings. Then I walk away and tell myself it's over. Then I try to erase them from my mind by not talking, thinking or worrying about them. And then in time, my heart is a clean slate....and I no longer feel anything tender for those people. And that's what happens.

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

When going through a difficult relationship with someone you love more than life itself who has betrayed you and has said many hurtful and terrible things about you to others who were not even involved and thus you can't undo, my first line of defense is withdrawal---because trust is breached. But when it is someone who is genetically linked to you, it's devastation in its fullest form. I've never really experienced this after I left my homeland and made a life for myself with a wonderful companion so experiencing this when totally unexpected blindsided me. I don't know if I have the coping mechanisms to fix the situation because although forgiveness is easy, patching up the tremendous stab wounds so they will heal takes time. And the restoration of trust was unexpectedly more difficult than I expected. I thought I could just sweep the hurt under the rug but I am so totally wrong. It surfaces when you least expect it. So this is a new experience for me...one that I hope I will never experience again. Love so deeply felt allows forgiveness but how do I heal my broken heart by myself? It seems that I need help from that very person who hurt me but I find that I have to reach and scrape the bottom of my spirit to help and teach that person how to help me. That is tremendous, exhaustive work that just sucks everything I have to the point of emptiness. I don't know how to survive this yet. So I think my first line of defense is to withdraw into my usual dark place and wait for a hand to pull me out. That is where I am right now as far as this phenomenon is concerned.

And as far a second line of defense, I look to my Saviour to ease my burden. In time, I know He will give me clarity. And I ask for a quick recovery from the deep, painful wounds.

My third line of defense is drugs. Not hard drugs. But my doctor did give me some xanax for situations like this when I can't sleep and I cry all day. My sugar level for some reason goes up and my bp goes crazy when I'm in distress. Anxiety attacks abound and my heart goes pumping and I can't breath. That's when I have to take my drugs. Stress levels make cortisol levels rise as well so that's why I get inflamed and bloated. Stress is hard on my diabetes and hypertension. So physically, it sucks when you're old.

Speaking of which, it has been over a year since I've had my surgery. My incision looks ugly. But it's interesting that a large part of the area is numb. Many times I'll feel an inch or a twinge of pain but when I try to touch where I think I itch or throb, I can't find it because I am numb. This seems to be a perfect metaphor for what I feel in my heart right now. I hurt, I hurt but when I try to fix it, I don't really know exactly where it is because I feel numb.


 A few weeks ago, I went to see my surgeon for a year check and just having her inspect and touch my scars and then tell me that it is healing well gave me such a boost. Perhaps that is also a metaphor for how things should work--the person who cut the wound should inspect and reach outwards to reassure me that things are going to be alright. But that is not possible because that sort of repertoire may not be in that person's toolbox because the other 'more important' things in that person's life takes more precedence than finding those tools. That is what happens when the patient is a low-income patient. The care is woefully lacking because low-ranked patients don't really matter. So my plan is to move on, close that chapter and find a comfortable distance.

Very Limited Treasures From Home

Why yes, that's an Alexander McQueen scarf that I'm wearing!

I left my country in January of 1975. And though I wasn't sure I really wanted to leave, inside me, I felt a certainty that I would never again come back as a full-time resident of my home country. I didn't know how that was going to happen but happen it did. 

I have some pleasant memories of my country....very happy ones. Every time I look back, I long for my home though I know it doesn't exist anymore. Logistically, it's not easy to bring back parts of my home--not cheap either. So every time I had a chance, I would take a few items here and there to remind me of my home. My mother and aunts would also later bring me some of these treasures. 

So.

To memorialize these small items, I am going to run a little inventory just in case something happens to me and before people start dumping my things into boxes to give away to Goodwill. Here are some of the things that mean a lot to me and I think they should be passed on and distributed to all those who feel an affinity for their Filipino mother, grandmother or whatever. These are the things that came from my home in Manila and later, in Quezon City. Some belong to my grandmother.

Above is a green depression glass juicer and measuring cup. It was produced in the 1930s and belonged to my maternal grandmother, Leonora Espiritu Veloira from the town of Caingin, the provice of Bulacan in Central Luzon. She kept this in her kitchen in a glass cabinet. She had other depression glass pieces but this and a butter dish cover are all I have. This piece is obviously over 80 years old. The glass will glow or fluoresce in black light because it contains some uranium or iron. I love this set because it reminds me of those days visiting my "Inang" in her old Filipino-style house/hut.

Below is a picture taken in August of the mid-1930s in front of the steps that lead to the 'balconaje' or the front balcony of her old Filipino-style house made of wood, nipa leaves and bamboo. I loved this wonderful house. It is built on stilts and most of the rooms had bamboo slats for floors. This meant that air would flow from the floors and the big windows and doors. In the summer, the house would cool itself and one can feel the breeze when you slept on the floor on woven mats as we did. Those were good times. In this picture is Inang holding my Auntie Nieva. Then my Tatang (Saturnino Veloira) behind my mother in the printed dress and Auntie Edith. Check out the village children milling about behind--typical of Filipino culture when children hang around their favorite teacher. Inang was an elementary school teacher. Note my Tatang's patrician features which showed some of his Spanish blood and my Inang had more Chinese. That was why all their children had very light complexion with Nieva having freaky light brown eyes for a Filipino and curly, brown hair.

This butter cover is also from Inang's--pronounced 'ee-NUHNG (Filipino word of endearment for "mother"--'Ina' pronounced ee-NUH--accent on 2nd syllable) glass cabinet. The actual butter dish is lost but my Auntie Nieva found another to replace it in an estate sale in upstate New York where she lives. I love this piece too. Well, what don't I love? These are tangible pieces of my history! And knowing that at one time, my grandmother used these things makes me tender when I touch them and connects me to her. I would wish that my children and so forth will feel the same connection.

This beautiful porcelain covered bowl/casserole dish with 14k gold detail came from my house in Quezon City, Philippines but it originally belonged to Inang as well. She bought it from a famous department store in Manila in the late 20s. Or rather, my Tatang (endearment for "Tatay" or "Itay" meaning 'father') bought it for her. (Tatang is pronounced TAH-tung accent on first syllable....Tatay is pronounced TAH-tie or TAH-tahy accent on first.) This department store was, as the old Filipinos would say, 'very high class' and was opened in July of 1921.You can see the name on the bottom of the dish. LR Aguinaldo. (Pronounced ah-ghee-NAL-doh accent on the 3rd) The LR stands for Leopoldo R. who was the president of commerce in the 30s, a very prominent politician and businessman. This set is very, very rare and MUST be handled with care. You cannot place this in the microwave for example. I am going to post below the old street from whence it came. You can see the letters L.R. of L.R. Aguinaldo Stores on the side of the building. And then I will post the same street as it looks now.

The photo above is the street called Calle Anloague where the Aguinaldo store used to be. The term 'anloague' comes from the Tagalog word anluwagi which means carpenter. Anloague is obviously the Latinized version/spelling. This street was named thus because many of the carpenters who built the stores and houses lived here. The buildings were called "Bahay na Bato" or house made of stone. Later, this street would be known as Calle Juan Luna named after the great patriot of the 1800s who was also a great artist. The painting in our dining room of the Maria Clara with her suitor standing and flirting on the balcony is a replica of one of his famous paintings.  Below is the street as it now looks: the store is now a condo building. (Sob)

Well, I am getting a bit overwhelmed right now so I'm going to stop here. But I'll post more photos after a short break. (Laundry.)

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

OK I'm back. Below is a photo of Ellen's old stamp collection album. It is falling apart. She probably hasn't seen it since the early 70s but when I went home a few decades back, I saw it and decided to take it back with me. Confession time: I really loved her collection perhaps more than she did and was so fascinated by it. I studied each stamp with a magnifying glass over and over and I think I looked at this album every day while I was home from high school and college. Here's my dreaded confession--my Tatang also had a stamp collection. One day, I stole some of his stamps that were duplicates or triplicates. I think I did that a few times. I don't know where his collection is now but in a way I'm glad I did that because now I have some of his stuff too.  I am posting a page or so below:

I really should find a new receptacle for these precious stamps!

Above and below are curious stamps. These are two of the ones I 'borrowed' from my grandfather. Note the redactions. I believe that these stamps were issued at least around 1935 when The Philippines was a commonweath of the US. Then at the time when these particular stamps were used, it was probably after 1945 when we (theoretically) became an independent republic. Hence the redaction to its politically acceptable form. I believe these stamps are very rare and valuable. Too bad they are not on the original envelopes or they would fetch a tidy sum.

Above is a photo of a poor Scottish terrier in glass. It's just a useless kind of thing. But I've had this as far back as I can remember. As a young child, I used to 'cure' this poor dog with mercurochrome. I loved painting it 'red' with the mercurochrome wand. No one probably knows what mercurochrome is but I am going to post a photo below:

Anyway, this glass dog brings back those childhood memories and I was actually surprised to find this little old friend still around the last time I went home. So off it went with me. And now it's got a little spot on my kitchen window. 

These two mother of pearls used to be displayed in our living room. They came from Maxine Grimm's pearl farm in the Philippines. I don't exactly know where. But they are very precious and remind me of how exotic and beautiful my country is. And yes, those are pearls.

These books which are incomplete sets belonged to my mother. She bought them from a missionary who was about to be released. I remember how happy she was when she got these. My mom read a lot. And she couldn't read enough books about the LDS church so when she bought these, we all felt her excitement. Although they are incomplete, these volumes are no longer in print. They are rather interesting to read and may contain some things that are hard to explain. I believe they are now referred to as "folk-doctrine". I find that to be inflammatory but I guess it's a very plain and simplistic way to explain modern revelation and the spiritual maturation of our early leaders. I won't go into any filibustering about my thoughts on this but I will in another forum. This doesn't shake me up in any way but rather, it gives me a fuller, more vivid and lateral vista of how God dispenses knowledge, understanding, clarification and light to all those who seek it. For the most part personal revelation can only be communicated in a spiritual way. And to try and articulate concepts that are beyond the scope of our understanding requires more than just words to encapsulate them. Another time.

These tomes did not come from my old house. BUT they are valuable to me and represent some of the magazines that we received.  Note the years of issues of these magazines. In the 1964 volume, there is a very nice article about the church in the Philippines with pictures of my friends from Primary. 1965 is the year our family was baptized into the church. These magazines represent the first early months of membership. The Relief Society magazine was very dear to me because I read and re-read them and gazed at the covers which showed beautiful scenes from Utah. I thought Utah was just beautiful and longed to someday see it. I was all of 9 years old and I enjoyed this magazine more than the Improvement Era or The Friend. 

This handpainted plate used to hang on the wall of our dining room in our house in Quezon City. I don't know where it came from but my mom loved it so much that when she left the Philippines to live here permanently, she brought it with her. So now I have it and it is displayed in our family room. It reminds me of all the great meals we had around our beautiful mother-of-pearl inlaid hand-carved mahogany dining room table that unfortunately, we could not bring to the US. All the chairs were hand-caned on the seats and backrests. And it had a beautiful lazy susan with beautiful mother-of-pearl inlaid floral patterns. Ahhh..... That was when we had at least 2 maid who cooked and cleaned after us. Our meals were always wonderful and hot. And in the afternoons, it was not unusual to have many friends from church and work milling around for food and refreshments. Those were idyllic times when friendships were not so complicated like here in the US.

Well, I am going to take another break and maybe have some dinner.

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

The scarf below belongs to Inang as well. It doesn't look like it's in very good condition. But it's very intricate and made of fine silk. DO NOT try to use an iron to smooth the wrinkles as the silk will burn and melt. Place a pillowcase or kitchen towel over it to iron with medium heat. The workmanship is very delicate and the tassels are handmade. It's very special. The next picture shows in beautiful calligraphy, the name of my maternal grandmother, Leonora which was especially hand printed for her. It's a very beautiful name, I think.

The book below by Spencer W. Kimball is pretty worn but it has a rare treasure on the fly leaf.

This book was personally handed to my parents by the prophet himself during a visit to the Philippines. Below is what he wrote on the fly leaf of the book. Enrique and Priscila de Rama are of course, my parents. Papa Dick as my Papa is known by my sons, died in December of 1989 when Hannah was just over 8 months old. We were in Fremont, California in their home when he passed. He had been in hospice care for just a  couple of weeks and just about 4 months after he was diagnosed with liver cancer. He knew we were all around him. When we sat just a few steps away from his bed, we were playing a board game. And then Ellen looked at him and he was no longer breathing. He slipped away when while we were having fun. That is so typical of him. I still miss him to this very day and get all tender at the memories that I have... or choose to remember. He was so talented and kind. I wish he had the chance to see my children grow up. But then again, it was necessary for him to pass.