Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 29 October 2024
Photo by author, entering the Nagsasa Cove in San Antonio, Zambales, 19 October 2024.
I have always imagined God must be like Jewish director Steven Spielberg. According to an article I have read long ago, Spielberg would always hide sets of important scenes to capture the real emotions of his actors and actresses during shooting. One example was the Raiders of the Lost Ark series where Harrison Ford’s expressions were very natural.
And that exactly was how I felt God in Nagsasa Cove on that lovely weekend of October 19.
Nagsasa’s white beach is actually lahar from Mount Pinatubo’s 1990 eruption that also brought those lush Agojo trees.
From the sea to the cove, I was already so enchanted, even enthralled with the scenery, the sparkling waters with its gentle breeze blowing, so clean and crisp. A taste of paradise.
After a few sips of wine in the warm waters of Nagsasa Cove, I ventured inland. Lo and behold! I immediately went back to our boat to get my cellphone as I told my companions how lovely is the river at the back. That was when Sir Benet Galang, owner of Agojo Beach, willingly joined to guide us deeper inland.
According to Sir Benet, some trekkers who have gone there told him the scene was like New Zealand which he could not verify because he has not been down there yet. One thing for sure, though, he has not seen any hobbits dwelling there except a few gentle Aetas in a settlement area who often guide hikers up the Pundaquit Mountain range.
I forgot to bring my slippers but what the heck! I have always loved walking on earth barefoot, so close to nature, so close with God, reminding me of the burning bush event of Moses when told to take off his sandals because he was on a sacred ground.
That’s Nagsasa Cove, a sacred ground.
The river is very stony but very clear. Water is warm on top but as you dip, it gets cold. Parang beer!
One realizes upon coming here is the great gift God has given our country, a gift so precious that we ought to take care. From here, one may hike to the mountain in about four hours with Aetas as guides.
A lot of greenery… and trees.
A young Agojo tree which is a variety of pine trees.
So many sights to behold, things one will never see in the city nor provinces these days.
I was fascinated with the mushrooms growing on this stump of an Agojo tree…
Again, I prayed this area would be spared of roads and big businesses to keep its beauty and charm intact. Residents are very organized, requiring vendors from outside to ensure they take back their waste and litter. During summer, each vendor of any goods is asked to fill a sack of litter to ensure the surroundings are well maintained.
If you are a nature lover, planning to have an entirely “me time”, I strongly recommend Nagsasa Cove.
No problem with food and accommodations there from simple tents to ones like this and air conditioned kubo…
Just come as you are and surely you shall come home filled with good memories and sights. Most of all, fulfilled in yourself.
Piso na lang, nasa langit ka na! Promise. See yah!
*All photos and videos taken by author using iPhone12. *Check FB page of Agojo Beach for details.
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 25 October 2024
From left after me is Gic (Eric’s wife), her brother Allan with wife Mariel, Eric our host and Captain, and his sister Dra. Mayet.
After a sumptuous dinner and restful night that lovely Friday last week in Binictican Homes, we rose early the following morning, had a light breakfast and headed for Vasco’s port in Subic to await my kinakapatid Eric with his speedboat.
It was my first boat ride.
At the dockyard of Vasco’s Hotel in Subic.
Of course… I was scared because I do not swim; but, I have always loved the sea and it was a total bliss right after we have left port.
Immediately I felt an adrenaline rush within as we throttled our way into the open sea with Christopher Cross singing “Ride Like the Wind” in my head that felt being treated with a “natural” Japanese hair spa courtesy of the strong winds.
The ride and the sights were so relaxing.
The vast expanse of the sea was very calming and soothing, cleansing me of all negativities in my body, heart, and soul. Can’t contain my joy at that time as I felt all the free radicals in my system vanished.
It was so heavenly, so close with God and with nature. Life is so beautiful indeed that I kept thanking God for His gifts of life, of nature, and most especially, of good friends, so kind and loving.
The sea is so unique not only with the infinite horizon but most especially it is the only place on Earth where we do not leave any marks as in footprints. How I love those burst of waves and bubbles like saying goodbye to the past, looking forward to new day, new sights, new land.
After about 45 minutes from Subic, we reached Nagsasa Cove which is part of San Antonio, Zambales.
There are four other coves in the area: Agnain, Anawangin, Silanguin, and Talisayen. All are accessible only by boat. We hope and pray they remain that way, far from big businesses that always destroy nature.
All coves are self sustaining with abundant supply of mountain spring water, so much food on land and the sea so blessed with abundant fish. In fact, on our way home at about 3:30 PM, we chanced upon some fishermen and bought some of their catch!
Now I experienced first-hand Eric’s famed skill in fishing… with his magic bait, his wallet!
Nagsasa Cove is so lovely. And nakaka-in love really. Especially for those who want to touch base with Mother Nature, with one’s self. And with God very much present there.
Nagsasa Cove is a very “young” beach naturally reclaimed by Mount Pinatubo’s lahar flows in 1991.
According to our friend Mr. Benet Galang who owns Agojo Resort there, the actual beach was about 500 meters to the back that was actually rocky. Following Mount Pinatubo’s eruption in 1991, the beach was reclaimed by lahar (that’s why it is a white beach) along with its endemic tree called agojo.
I have been coming to Anvaya Cove the past three years courtesy also of Eric and another friend. I have come to love it that have brought my family too last summer. I felt at that time it was the best, even better than Boracay.
But now, my heart is already aching for Nagsasa Cove. So lovely, so peaceful. Perfect for “me time”.
The part of Nagsasa Cove for snorkeling.
Imagine watching the sunset here.
Imagine how it would look like when the glowing sun kisses the sea as it sets and at midnight or before dawn, the moon and the stars hugging the cove beneath them?
Whoa…!
More stories and photos as we explored the river and the mountains at the back of this paradise called Nagsasa Cove.
*All photos and videos by the author using iPhone 12. For those interested to visit Nagsasa Cove and Beach, check Agojo Beach Resort at Facebook. Very kind owner, Mr. Benet Galang, a true outdoorsman and nature lover.
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 24 October 2024
Photo by Maria Tan, ABS-CBN News, 27 July 2024.
Classes are still suspended due to severe tropical storm Kristine. While scrolling through Facebook, I chanced upon a funny post supposed to be the cry of many employees. And teachers as well:
"We are trained to work under pressure but, please, not in low pressure."
As we come to close October dedicated worldwide as “Teachers’ Month”, my thoughts are into this most noble profession of teaching during these two days of the storm, of how blessed I am to have been taught by selfless teachers and mentors now also a teacher myself being assigned 26 years ago in a school, now as a chaplain in the university.
I never dreamt of becoming a teacher for I am not the studious type – always the certified crammer, forever classified as “under-achiever” from elementary to graduate school. The only subjects I really loved were literature, social studies, and history.
But what a tremendous blessing from God my being assigned in a school and now a university, of meeting and working with teachers who have taught me so many valuable lessons in life and my ministry. Many of them have become some of my truest friends. Most of all, the academe opened my eyes to the wonderful ministry of teaching, of forming young people, of finding Jesus, bringing Jesus in the classroom.
Photo from wikipediacommons.org of Christ’s washing of feet of Apostles at Monreale Cathedral in Palermo, Italy.
Every time I give talks and recollections/retreats to teachers, I first remind them of the fact that when Jesus Christ came to the world more than 2000 years ago, He chose to be a teacher.
Jesus was never born to the class of priests and scholars of the scriptures nor any other professions like the physicians and accountants of His time except for a while, He worked with His foster-father St. Joseph as a carpenter. This alone is every teacher’s primary source of pride and honor in being called by Jesus to teach like Him.
From Gettyimages.com.
So when he had washed their feet and put his garments back on and reclined at the table again, he said to them, “Do you realize what I have done for you? You call me ‘teacher’ and ‘master,’ and rightly so, for indeed I am. If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do” (John 13:12-15).
Unlike the teachers of His time, Jesus as a teacher was not for “hire” who got paid for His teachings. Jesus taught not for money but in fulfillment of His mission. He taught more than lessons in life but gave His very life to others.
And that is where the nobility of the teaching profession lies.
The best teachers are the ones who teach life by giving and sharing their very lives like Jesus Christ, our Good and Model Teacher. Teaching is both a mission and a vocation, a call. That is why there can never be a “pay” or “compensation” enough for teachers because they share life. What they teach cannot be quantified nor measured like in number of sales or length of roads built. Like Jesus, teachers give everything, never apiece. When a teacher repeats or elaborates a lesson, he/she cannot charge it as overtime or get an extra pay for their extra efforts in guiding students.
Jesus teaching his disciples, a painting by James Tissot from commons.wikimedia.org.
The true reward of every teacher is to find one’s students so fruitful in life! The more fruitful and successful they are, the more rewarding for us teachers. Now I know the feeling of parents having a son growing into a fine gentleman or a daughter blooming into a fine lady and woman.
For me, I feel so proud when I learn my students reaching great heights in life and in their careers like reading their works published here and abroad, even speaking other languages as professors and lecturers, diplomats, OFW’s and responsible parents raising great children with hobbies so varied making me wish I could be young again to join them. Our greatest joy as teachers is when our students are most joyful. They do not have to be rich and famous. Basta joyful with a loving wife or husband, lovely kids, fruitful life.
Photo from amazon.com.
During the fourth century in Carthage, a Deacon and catechist named Deogratias asked St. Augustine for some tips on teaching catechumens or people being prepared for Baptism.
A very talented teacher himself, St. Augustine wrote at length the methods and many other tips of teaching to Deogratias that these were compiled into a book now a Christian classic called “De Catechizandis de Rudibus” (On Instructing Beginners in Faith).
St. Augustine gave practical tips like first identifying the kind of audience or students so that the catechist and teacher may adjust his/her approach in teaching. He then told Deogratias to always narrate stories from the Bible, especially the creation, the lives of the great men and women in the Old Testament, and most of all, the many gospel scenes of Jesus Christ’s own teachings and parables.
At the end of the very long book of instructions, St. Augustine reminded Deogratias that the “catechist/teacher is always the lesson himself/herself.”
So true and beautiful!
The teacher is the lesson himself/herself because no book nor experiment nor equation will suffice to open the mind and heart of any student when the very person of the teacher is closed or worst, incongruent with wisdom and knowledge, virtues and life.
A true teacher is a witness of Jesus Christ, of how the Lord had transformed him/her into a better person now teaching others to grow and mature in life. A teacher is one who walks the talks, exactly what St. Pope Paul VI wrote in 1975, “Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses” (Evangelii Nuntiandi #41).
A true teacher as a lesson himself/herself is one who does not complicate but simplifies life, one who knows when to stop and be contented with what we have.
A true teacher is one who opens the minds and hearts of students to have that drive and passion to learn and find not just answer to questions but also to explore possibilities of finding meaning in life amid the many mysteries and unsolved problems that surround us.
A true teacher is one who does not compete with his/her students but journeys with them as companion, someone who breaks “bread” – life – with them.
A true teacher is one who sets students free from their many fears in life, showing them courage to tackle problems and situations, one who is not afraid to cry when sad and hurt, but always ready to smile and laugh with life’s simple joys and pleasures or kababawan.
A true teacher is one who shows students the realities of life such as failures and mistakes not as obstacles but launching pads for new lessons in life.
Photo by author, September 2024.
The teacher as the lesson himself/herself is one who brings out the giftedness of every student as a beautiful lesson in themselves too for others to learn.
The teacher as a lesson himself/herself need not be perfect, does not need to know an answer to all questions nor everything but someone who celebrates life, values life as a gift from God meant to be shared with others.
Think of your favorite teacher or unforgettable teacher. Most likely, she or he is the one who shares life with you. Thank a teacher today in sharing us, giving us his/her life especially during storms, when we are under low pressure areas. God bless all the teachers!
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 22 October 2024
Video by author using iPhone, 18 October 2024 near Floridablanca Exit, SCTEX bound to Subic.
Please, do not report me to the SCTEX Mobile Patrol. Promise… I won’t do this again, taking a video of sunset while driving. Blame “The Cure” playing on my playlist Friday I’m In Love…
That was last Friday as I drove – alone, as usual of course, going to a much-needed rest and mental health break at Subic. It was actually long-delayed vacation from repeated invitations over ten years from my kinakapatid Leah and Eric.
We planned it last September during a dinner in Makati after I had promised to visit my Ninang Lyn, Leah and Eric’s mom who was also grieving for her eldest we called Koyang Dindo who died in January; she felt too my grief in losing my mom later in May. I promised to visit her after my hospitalization in August when Leah and Eric learned it that they both offered for us to have dinner instead to “lend” me their mom.
How can I say no when Ninang Lyn told me to join Leah and Eric in their Subic homes after saying, “ako na mommy mo ngayon”?
At Makati Shangrila Hotel, September 2024.
At Binictican home of Eric and Gic, 18-10-2024
Appetizing appetizers…
then salad, sirloin, prime rib and rice in steak’s drippings…
…and more wine.Cheers!
And whoa! What a Friday it was, truly a TGIF as I broke all rules not only in driving but also in eating and drinking! It was a wonderful evening of stories with great food and wine. Most of all, of love from true friends over 50 years!
Ninang Lyn’s husband, the late Atty. Fernando Ma. Alberto was a friend of my late dad. Unlike my siblings and friends, I only had just one pair of Ninong and Ninang in my baptism. Both have blessed me for being truly my “godparents”.
When my father passed away in 2000, it was Ninong Ding who helped me made a major decision in 2005, of whether I should stay or move to Canada to serve there instead. He told me to greatly consider the many experiences I have had in media and life that can greatly help more people here than abroad. True enough after six months in a parish in Toronto, I realized his wisdom, the great need of our countrymen mostly poor needing the love and care of pastors than the rich, ageing Catholics of Canada.
With Dindo aka Nando Alberto during our roadtrip in Rizal in January 2021, listening only to Steely Dan the whole day!
When Dindo’s condition worsened late last year, I got to see my Ninang more often along with her other children so united in those critical moments: Leah, Doc Mayette, Eric, Ricky and Toby with Joy sometimes joining us on Facebook live from California.
After Dindo died early this year, my mom died too in May. The Albertos were there coming all the way to Bulacan. And have remained until now.
What I like most with them is how they have never asked how I am doing because they knew so well what I am going through. Maybe that’s the gift and grace of over 50 years of friendship. They simply make themselves present, tenderly inviting me to go out and chillax. They so remind me of this passage from a Canadian author and poet who wrote in one of her books:
I overheard a conversation the other day. He said, "But if you don't let people know you are lost, how can they help you?" She said, "Because the help I need is found in the eyes of someone who sees I am lost. Who stops to notice I have been gone, or my pace has slowed or my smile is forced. If they can see those things, then they will know that I need caring, not help." - Nausicaa Twila
Lately, so many friends including their siblings were texting me, inviting me out for lunch or coffee, simply making me feel of their care as I go through this grieving phase. So glad to have them. And so blessed in giving me a glimpse of Jesus Christ’s loving presence in them, teaching me firsthand about love and care.
Here is another video clip I did last Friday but this time I stopped by the roadside at SCTEX near Floridablanca exit on the way to Subic. See you again this Friday for the second part of our Subic adventure.
Video by author using iPhone, 18 October 2024 with natural sound from my car stereo playing The Cure “In Between Days.”
I have been searching the internet since last night of images of the widow of Nain whose only son was raised to life by Jesus in today’s gospel. After reading and praying over this scene found only in Luke’s gospel, it struck me differently last night, touching something so deep within me unlike before that I wanted to see how artists portrayed her.
Unfortunately despite the many paintings based on this story by Luke, only a few artists took time to paint with focus and emphasis on the widow of Nain. Despite Luke’s detail in saying that Jesus was moved with pity with her than with the young dead son, artists seemed to have looked more into the whole scene than the persons involved.
Jesus journeyed to a city called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd accompanied him. As he drew near to the gate of the city, a man who had died was being carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow. A large crowd from the city was with her. When the Lord saw her, he was moved with pity for her and said to her, “Do not weep” (Luke 7:11-13).
What a sorrowful sight it must have been with the widow of Nain burying her only child and son after losing her husband because she had practically lost everything in life!
The widow of Nain could have been a most wonderful subject for any painter or artist as she had melted the heart of Jesus who was prompted to raise to life her dead young son. In fact, this was the only third time Jesus had raised the dead to life in all four gospel accounts as He felt the enormous loss of the widow of Nain which remains so true to every widow these days.
In this brief and lovely story, Jesus reminds us of the special care we must have for widows and widowers who have lost everything in life while at the same time bares to us too the more disheartening aspect about death, of losing a beloved. Especially when it concerns a mother.
Photo by Mr. Jim Marpa, 2018.
The most striking truth I have realized until now since my mother died in May is how she meant everything to me and my siblings that I always say, “iisa lang siyang nawala sa amin pero lahat nawala.”
That’s the pain I feel most hurting inside me. I really could not picture our house without her every morning sweeping its front or watering her orchids or combing her dog. More painful was looking inside our home now so empty without her as I imagined those days she used to feed her aquarium fish named “pitimini” and “fetunia” and other flowers I did not know at all or simply bantering with her myna bird. Whenever I would come home, I still could not look long into her room now occupied by my brother because she’s all I see and feel inside.
The story of Jesus being moved with pity at the widow of Nain proclaims how every woman is a gospel herself, especially mothers who from the very start a part of us. See how the author of Genesis rightly narrated when God decided to create the woman, He said “Let us create a suitable partner for him” (2:18).
Photo by Mr. Jim Marpa, 2018.
Every woman is apart-ner of every man, especially mothers. Our umbilical cords are never cut off from our mom even after birth for our link with her continues even long after she – or us – is gone.
That’s because every woman is everything for each one of us as the Bee Gees sang it so well in one of the scenes in Saturday Night Fever, “more than a woman to me” because
Here in your arms I found my paradise My only chance for happiness And if I lose you now, I think I would die Oh, say you'll always be my baby, we can make it shine We can take forever, just a minute at a time
More than a woman More than a woman to me...
During our Mass this morning, I chose to celebrate the Memorial of St. Hildegard von Bingen, a German Benedictine nun who lived over 1000 years ago. She was a mystic and a prolific writer, thinker and spiritual master who was beatified in 1326 but was only canonized in 2012 by Pope Benedict XVI who declared her a Doctor of the Church.
Like the other German woman saint, Teresa Benedicta of the Cross or Edith Stein, St. Hildegard’s writings are so deeply true but tenderly expressed that one could feel the woman touch of God. One of her quotes I used in reflecting on the widow of Nain says, “The mystery of God hugs you in its all-encompassing mystery.”
That’s what mothers do best, they hug us with God’s mystery as they themselves are a mystery to us that John Lennon rightly called woman as “the other half of the sky”.
Make a widow, a mother smile today for that would surely go a long, long way to heaven. God bless all the women of the world!
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 03 July 2024
Photo from The Valenzuela Times, 02 July 2024.
Honestly… how did you react to this photo published yesterday afternoon after that flash flood at McArthur Highway in Valenzuela City? Do you find it funny? Did you hit the LOL emoticon? Why?
Am I that old and conservative, or prudish, or, is it merely a simple case of generation gap that I felt sad and surprised at how almost everyone in social media last night laughed at this photo? At least, some were sincere enough to admit being jealous as they exclaimed “sanaol” but, why all the laughter?
It is better expressed in our Filipino language – pinagtawanan (laughed at) which is a world apart from nakatutuwa (joyful sight).
What is so funny if a man would carry his girlfriend on his back for her not to get wet or soaked in the flood?
So gentlemanly in fact, hindi ba? Should we not be glad that there are still knights in shining armor these days?
Others simply described it as OA or “overacting”. Maybe…
The photo is a modern gospel, a good news in this age when chivalry is said to be dead. It is so much similar with last Sunday’s gospel that said “Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side” (Mk. 5:21), after they went through a turbulent squall crossing the Lake of Galilee the other week. What a beautiful story last Sunday of Jesus crossing again and again not only the treacherous lake but so often crossed the streets and valleys and mountains to reach out to those sick and lost and even dead to bring them all to the side of grace and life (https://lordmychef.com/2024/06/29/jesus-crossed-seas-streets-to-lead-us-to-the-side-of-life-again-again/).
My post last night…
I love that word “cross” from which came crossing; the former if spelled with a capital C refers to the Cross of Jesus Christ that also means our daily sufferings and difficulties in life we have to accept and embrace while the former refers to the street intersection where pedestrians cross.
Every day Jesus comes to help us cross the streets of this life filled with many pains and sufferings, trials and hardships. Jesus help us cross these busy and stressful streets of daily life for us to get to the side of life and fullness through those willing to suffer and sacrifice like this student in the photo.
How sad that when someone is willing to sacrifice for a loved one, when someone is willing to help others cross the street, whether it is flooded or not that people nowadays laugh at them, calling them OA.
We are not judging anyone.
Maybe we just have to reassess ourselves daily especially in our overexposure to social media and its gadgets that have alienated us from realities of life and from being human, being a person who is a subject to be loved and cherished than object to be possessed and laughed at.
How sad that with too much media, we no longer have that feel and experience of realities.
Go to any wedding or whatever kind of ceremony and parade to see how people are foolishly glued to their camera screens recording the events without experiencing the moment at all!
That gentleman carrying his girlfriend on his back is a good news for us today that Christ is still with us in this modern age. Unfortunately, it seems that like what happened 2000 years ago, there are still some who still want Him crucified for being good and kind, even OA, with others. Have a blessed day. We’d like to hear from you too… thank you!
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 20 June 2024
Photo by author, 17 June 2024.
As a priest for 26 years, I have been a frequent visitor to cemeteries to bless parishioners, friends and relatives who have died. It was more of duties and ministry for me as a priest except for some who were dear to me.
But, when mommy passed away last month, visiting the cemetery has become something more personal with much meaning deep within, now both our parents are gone. I did not feel it when daddy died 24 years ago on mommy’s birthday. Perhaps it was partly because of the fact I had to come and visit their graves so often these past days: for the wake and burial of mommy from May 7-11, then her 40th day June 15, then again on the 17th for her 85th birthday and dad’s 24th death anniversary. Of course, we are coming back July 26 for dad’s 92nd birthday.
So, definitely I shall be coming there more often in the years to come as a son, secondary only as a priest.
Now it has become clearer to us siblings why dad died on mom’s birthday 24 years ago: so that it is more economical – matipid – for us to come and visit their gravesites. Isang puntahan na lang! Birthday at kamatayan. How I really wish and pray daily our parents are already reunited finally in eternity to enjoy each other’s company again before God.
Our parents, always together especially during meals.
My parents were not perfect couple. They quarreled, had misunderstandings like most husband and wife. But they strived so hard in loving each other despite their imperfections along with ours their children. This they practiced so well on the dining table, always eating together.
From my earliest memory until I became a priest, they have always taken their meals together. Most often, it was my dad who would always wait for my mom to be back home and be told by her personally that she had eaten somewhere in a party. That’s the only time he would really eat while my mom sat beside him, serving him while telling him stories where she had gone with her friends. Many times we would tease mommy whenever friends would pick her up to an event or socials without dad. “Maghihintay na naman ang daddy sa inyo, hindi kakain yun.” But she would tell us often the glaring truth about my dad, “ang daddy ninyo walang sinasabi sa aking ganyan; basta alam niya aalis ako. Sabayan ninyo sa pagkain.”
Our parents during their honeymoon in 1964.
Of course, dad would wait for her and most often, he was the one serving us children during meal until his retirement!
When I was in the seminary until I became a priest, every time I would come home to visit them, dad would always ask me if I had eaten. Even if I told him I have had lunch or merienda, he would still get food and serve them on the table. What can I do, especially if he cooked mechado or pochero that Sunday and had kept some leftovers in the fridge? I would always eat everything para daw maubos na ang mga natira at mahugasan na ang mangkok. That’s how I learned that eating is also an apostoalte for us priests…
When daddy died suddenly of a heart attack before dawn on mommy’s birthday on June 17, 2000, I kept asking him why he died on that date. Every Sunday after my Masses, I would go to the cemetery and ask him that question again and again. “Dad, there are 365 days in a year… why June 17?”
My mom was inconsolable during daddy’s wake until his first death anniversary. Part of her really died with daddy’s demise. Most like why she had a stroke six years later.
Mommy on her wedding day, 26 April 1964.
They have always been together in almost everything. It was dad who would wake up ahead of mom to prepare breakfast, especially coffee. And only him knows so well when my mom is ready to sip her hot coffee he had prepared; that’s the time he would go upstairs to tell her breakfast was ready.
Whenever we have visitors at home especially during fiestas and holidays, they were all praises with our food. Naturally, they praised mommy, thinking mothers cooked best. But not in our home. And the funny thing was, both of them would fall silent when our food were praised: mom would never say it was dad who cooked nor claim the accolades while dad would never speak a word about it. That’s when we the children would tell our guests our dad was the chef, adding our mom was just for sigang, paksiw and monggo. That is why during our first Christmas without dad, when I went to visit mommy at the eve to give my gifts, I saw her crying while cooking, telling me how she missed dad who would do all the cooking. From then on, I have found the best excuse why we must just order food during family gatherings at home – not only to spare mommy of the troubles cooking but to have really delicious food!
Our family after visiting our parents last June 17 on a vacation together.
My dad finally answered my question a few months after his death why he died on mommy’s birthday. It happened in the most strange way because I am more closer to my dad than to mommy with whom I always had a lot of misunderstandings due to her always in opposition with my plans, even my entering the seminary to become a priest.
One time we had some tampuhan blues that I decided not to come home thrice on Sundays. On the fourth Sunday after my mass as I visited daddy’s gravesite, I asked him again my question. As usual, no reply but in some moments of silence, I felt him telling me in my heart, “Nick, I died on your mommy’s birthday so that you would love her much like I have loved her.”
Suddenly, I realized my sins against her, of how I have showed her my anger until tears rolled down my cheeks.
After saying my prayers and blessing his gravesite, I headed home to visit mommy. From then on, I have tried my very best to be like dad with my mom by being more loving, more caring, more understanding and on many occasions, playing deaf to what she said.
Like our parents, we are always together in meals.
People say we must visit three places once in a while, namely, hospital, prison, and cemetery. Hospital so that we may realize that there is nothing more beautiful than health; in the prison for us to see that freedom is most precious; and cemetery that life is worth nothing because the ground we walk today will be our roof tomorrow.
It is the love we have for each other that gives meaning to these places that make them worth visiting. As a priest and most of all, as a son, a brother, and a friend I have realized these so true. Don’t wait for death to come. Or birthdays. Sometimes, they happen simultaneously. Just keep loving.
Now they are both gone and hopefully together in eternity, every time I bless their gravesite, I feel them telling me the same thing – love my siblings the way they loved us. Thank you for taking time to read this piece, hope all’s well with you and your loved ones.
"No one has ever seen God. Yet, if we love one another, God remains in us, and his love is brought to perfection in us" (1 John 4:12). Amen.
I have reflected last Sunday that Pentecost is not just an event in the past but a daily coming of the Holy Spirit upon us, enlightening us of so many things in life we used to take for granted. Like the value of every person, especially when there is a death of a loved one.
In fact, death is a Pentecost when the Holy Spirit comes to remind us that we never – and can never – replace our departed loved ones. Every person is irreplaceable, especially family members. The sooner we realize this, the better for us to avoid those guilty feelings later that we should have been more loving and kind, that we should have said “I love you” more often because we never know for how long we can be with our loved ones. One thing is for sure: we do not replace our deceased loved ones but simply re-member them.
Photo by author, Bgy. Kaysuyo, Alfonso, Cavite, 27 April 2024.
The word “remember” is very interesting.
It is from the root word “member” or “part”. When we put the prefix “re” which means “again”, “remember” means to make a part again of the present moment.
Every time we remember a person or an event, we make them part of our present moment. And they are most real, most present when our re-membering happens in the context of a family or a community. Re-membering someone by one’s self surely does happen a lot but very often, it is more of looking back to the past, recalling the days we used to be together. But when we remember somebody as a family or a community, the one we remember is indeed re-membered in our present, becomes real in everyone around celebrating his/her memory. Something concrete happens and the joy is more intense, leading to freedom from past, from pains and hurts of losing a loved one.
That is when death becomes a Pentecost. When the Holy Spirit came down upon the Apostles and the Blessed Virgin Mary in Jerusalem 50 days after Easter, the Third Person of the Blessed Trinity did not come to replace Jesus. The Holy Spirit is a distinct Person of the Trinity in whose power all the followers and believers of Christ have been empowered to make Him present until now in our collective re-membering of Him in the Church and the Sacraments. In the Holy Spirit who comes to us daily, we overcome and transcend every death we go through in life, enabling us to re-member our departed loved ones by being a member of those left behind.
Photo by author, Sacred Heart Novitiate, Novaliches, QC, 18 March 2024.
Since mommy’s death, I have gone home thrice already. How I loved to walk inside her room, trying so hard to get those feelings or vibes when she was still alive I miserably miss most as the days moved on.
One thing I have noticed, though, is that strange feeling of our home suddenly so empty as in “kakalog-kalog” as we say in Tagalog. Mommy ko lang nawala sa amin pero parang nawala ang lahat sa bahay?
Now I know better why the mother is the light of the family or “ilaw ng tahanan” because after she had died, her light in our home was turned off that seemed to have made our home so dark, so light and hollowed. However, when we gathered as siblings together with our nieces and nephew and relatives, the warmth of our home returns as if mommy is with us , still with us.
That is when the Holy Spirit comes amid the darkness of every death. A Pentecost when we are reminded of those still with us who must band closer together to make our departed more present in our collective re-membering. No wonder, it was also the final instruction of Jesus to His disciples at their Last Supper when He told them as He gave them the chalice to “Do this in memory of me” or “in remembrance of me”. In Greek, it is called anamnesis which is more than remembering or recalling but making present, making a reality.
Photo by author, Sacred Heart Novitiate, Novaliches, QC, 20 March 2024.
And the reality is this – every person is valuable beyond measure.
So fragile too! Because we can easily lose them in a snap.
We realize and feel this most true in death when we experience deeply “someone like me” whom I love, whom I care for is gone because in every death of a beloved, a part of us dies too. Even if he/she is an enemy or somebody we are not in good terms with, we feel a loss within because for better or worst, the deceased made us feel our humanity.
It is said that “one life is too many.” Very true. Today God gives us the gift and power to re-member those not with us by connecting with those still living with us. Make that connection now and soon you too shall see the face we sorely miss together. Have a blessed remaining half-week!
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 10 May 2024
Photo by Veejay Villafranca/Bloomberg via Getty Images
My most vivid image of mommy’s love for me is from June 1979 when I bid her goodbye in her sari-sari store on my way to the high school seminary. That was the last time I felt I was a kid, her child, when she hugged me tightly, then held my head and kissed me as she fixed by combed hair, telling me “magpapakabait ka doon, anak.”
She had always been against my entering the seminary, saying I was too young to know about the priesthood. She did all the scare tactics to me: “hindi ka mag-aasawa, isda at tuyo araw-araw ang ulam ninyo, hindi masarap pagkain doon…” She finally allowed me to enter the seminary on second year high school I believe after my dad had silently persuaded her.
It was funny because on my fourth year before graduation, I felt I was not ready yet for the major seminary that was eventually confirmed by the results of my entrance exam (psychological tests actually) to San Carlos Seminary that it was suggested I better leave the seminary.
My mother Corazon before their wedding in 1964.
Tama nga si mommy.
It was from then on when we had that kind of not so smooth mother-son relationship. I felt far from her as she would always say something to my plans and decisions. She was not really a contravida but more of an oppositionist. That is why when I felt my vocation anew later in 1988, I never told her about it until I was about to go back to the seminary. That time, there was no more hugging and kissing maybe because I was already an adult, a man bigger and stronger than her.
But what was most memorable for me now that she is gone was the scene every time I would go back the seminary and later to my assignments as a priest.
Whenever I would tell her “mommy, uuwi na po ako”, she would say while smiling, “e nasa bahay ka, paano ka pa uuwi?”
That happened so often that she sounded so corny but still, thank God, I never tired explaining to her, “uuwi sa seminaryo” later to Malolos then to Bagbaguin and now to Fatima. She never failed to banter with me with her dry humor and stroke during those moments of my leaving home. I think she was telling me in those every good bye of ours that my home would always be her, my family. That is why after her body was taken from her room last Tuesday morning, the scene that struck me most on her death was her empty room, vacant big bed.
As I left home pauwi sa Fatima, the morning sunshine were so lovely as it softly brightened mommy’s empty room as she is now “home” in heaven with daddy.
Overall, I feel so joyful and grateful in my mother’s demise. She left so peacefully in her sleep as I have prayed to God daily. The outpouring of love and sympathies and friends are beyond our expectations or imaginations. But, there is that fear, a dread in me about coming home, finding her room empty, telling me she is gone.
Mommy’s room is now empty but our hearts are so full of her love, of her memories, of her gift of self.
During the pandemic, I begged God not to take my mom yet. I told God I was not ready because she was primarily the reason I “go home”. As I reflect on the meaning of that image of her empty room, I realized that it is not about going home but coming home. We go home to the house and place but we come home to persons, to family and friends.
Pag-uwi in Tagalog which is literally coming home. Not going home. Because when we leave, we say uuwi also as we come home to our new home.
We Filipinos express both our kinship and Christian faith in our goodbyes.
Our professor in liturgy Msgr. Andy Valera used to tell us we never say aalis na ako or “I am leaving” because that means we are angry. It is very rude and should never be said when saying goodbye in any Filipino gathering. Instead, we say next to uuwi na ako either tutuloy na ako or mauna na ako. But, how can we make tuloy which is to enter when we are in fact leaving? And why say mauna na ako which means I’ll go ahead when nobody is going with you?
Photo by author.
According to Msgr. Andy, our coming home indicates our theology of heaven: we all come home, uwi to heaven our true home that is why when we leave our gatherings we say tutuloy na ako because in the end, we enter heaven. Most of all, we say mauna na ako because nobody knows who is next to die.
What a beautiful lesson I just realized now after mommy had died; even if she’s gone and her empty is room, I will still come home to my sisters and brother, nieces and nephew, relatives and neighbors.
How lovely that despite the pain and emptiness death creates in us here on earth is also the grace of God to fill each others heart with His loving presence and joy as we await our final coming home to Him with our departed loved ones in heaven.
Jesus told his disciples: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be.”
John 14:1-3
The best way to come home to heaven is to come home often to our family and friends not only to dine and celebrate but most of all, to praise and thank God in prayers, especially the Sunday Mass. God bless everyone!
Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 09 May 2024
Our mother had always loved flowers and shades of pink, especially pink carnation her favorite.
It has been said death is the greatest equalizer. But with my mom’s recent passing, I realized too that death is the best explainer of life. Death is life’s final joke on us that answers, clarifies the many questions we have been asking in our lifetime.
Consider these:
Dad died on June 17, 2000, my mom’s 61st birthday; we celebrated his 40th day of death on his birthday, July 26, 2000. He died on a Saturday, the eve of Father’s Day.
Mommy died May 07, 2024 with her 40th day coming on June 15, two days before her 85th birthday and dad’s 24th death anniversary. This Sunday after her burial is Mother’s Day.
Ever since my father died, I have realized that death weaves a certain pattern in our lives, telling us a lot of things about us and our loved ones. And about life itself if we would have faith in God by setting aside our fears and superstitions.
Photo by author, somewhere in Bgy. Kaysuyo, Alfonso, Cavite, 27 April 2024.
See how Jesus spoke to His disciples about His coming death during their Last Supper:
“Now I am going to the one who sent me, and not one of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ But because I told you this, grief has filled your hearts. But I tell you the truth, it is better for you that I go. For if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you… But when he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide you to all truth. He will not speak on his own, but he will speak what he hears, and will declare to you the things that are coming.”
John 16:5-7, 13
It is always after someone had died when things and life itself become clearer for us. In every death comes an unfolding of truth in time, in persons. It is after a beloved had died when we realize how much we do not know of their goodness or kindness that often we are surprised at the outpouring of love by those who come to their wake. Many times, strangers know more of the brighter side of a person when he/she dies. Along this line of mystery of the person we find too how death happens on days that at first seem to mean nothing at all but at closer look, or later as we moved on in life after the demise of a loved one, we see how every death points to something about us and our family and friends!
Hence, we say death is not the end but the beginning of eternity. Actually, with the deaths of my father and now of my mom, I have found death is life. No wonder St. Francis referred to death as a person, calling him “cousin Death.”
This became more clear to me when I became a chaplain at the Fatima University Medical Center (FUMC) in Valenzuela City.
Last year I took care of an elderly priest, Msgr. Teng Manlapig when he was confined in our hospital for almost a month. Two days before he died on February 26, 2023, he asked me to hear his confession. It was a Friday and February 26 last year was the first Sunday in Lent when the gospel was the temptation of Christ in the wilderness.
It was on that Sunday evening after seeing Msgr. Teng for the last time before he was taken to the funeral parlor when I remembered another priest I had cared during his dying days, Msgr. Macario Manahan who died in front of me in his retirement home on March 16, 2014 – the second Sunday in Lent when the gospel was the Transfiguration.
What a tremendous gift from God for me to care until their deaths of two monsignori in the Season of Lent. From them I have realized that our final altar as priests are our deathbeds where even to the end, we celebrate Mass and the Sacraments. From that day on too, I have prayed to God to allow me to go home to Him not during Lent but on Easter. Or, preferably on Ascension Sunday when my time comes.
Have a blessed day celebrating life, finding its meaning and beauty in the prism of cousin Death in Jesus Christ. Amen.
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