Payback Time

I can still remember the first time I attended a choir practice.

It was so distinct not because I wowed everyone with my voice but because everyone was hovering around me–the newbie.

The members were telling me how cute my dimples were and kept on adoring my shiny, jet black hair.

Honestly, I didn’t know what I was doing there.

My mom asked our lovely neighbor, Ate Dawn who was then a youth facilitator of the parish’s children’s choir if my two brothers and I could join and to her delight, Ate Dawn agreed.

So on that fateful Saturday, at six years old, I officially started to serve the Lord. On Sundays, I could be found on the choir loft for the 10-11 AM children’s mass singing my heart out.

Soon enough, the choir coordinators who are both charming nuns discovered that the Refendor kids have a gift in public speaking.

So if we were not singing, we could be found on the altar proclaiming the Word of God as a lector.

And oh, I can remember that particular instance when they made me sing a solo part for the Responsorial Psalm.  Maybe it didn’t sound that great because they soon decided that I should best stick to reading.

One summer, the choir facilitators wanted to train a new breed of commentators.

I was one of the kids who got to spend their summer studying the parts of the mass, memorizing the responses, preparing for the quizzes and knowing more about the Sacrament of the Mass.

At 9 years old, I had my first stint at being a commentator for a Sunday mass.

Soon, the parish began to notice our gifts and talents.

Every time there’s an important event in the church, my siblings and I would be there to serve-be it a high mass for the Ati-Atihan Festival, Summer Youth Camp, Silver Jubilee celebration and the many breath-taking masses wherein bishops and numerous priests would be present.

I also got the privilege of representing my province, Aklan in the prayers of the faithful when the relic of St. Therese of the Child Jesus arrived in Iloilo.

Growing up, my summers were no different.

For the whole month of May, I could be found in the parish participating in praying the rosary and singing for the Mayflower celebration or the Flores de Mayo.

When I went to study in UP Diliman, my passion to serve didn’t die down.

I volunteered in the campus’ parish as lector and commentator.

Years later, I found myself serving at one of the happiest places on Earth which is the UP Campus Feast of the LOJ Family founded by Bro. Bo Sanchez.  I also finished the Christian Life Program of the Singles for Christ (UP Chapter) and I am now a happy member.

Then I started receiving invitations to give a talk.  I have spoken to high school students and lately, to college students on living a life of chastity, modesty and sexual purity.

As I write this, I marvel at the fact as to how God has been using me mightily all these years. I praise God that He gave me this gift of communication in order to spread His love and proclaim His promises.

Yes, there were instances wherein I would wish that I could just be home watching TV than practicing on a Saturday afternoon or waking up late on a Sunday morning instead of gearing up for mass.

Yes, there were days wherein I felt like boasting about these but at the end of the day, I am again reminded that I am just His instrument and my talents are borrowed gifts which I need to return one day to my Creator.

People who are closest to me have observed that I have a blessed life.  Sure, my life is not perfect nor it is absent of problems and trials but it seems I have always been favored.

You see, God can never be out given.

Whenever you give to Him your 3 Ts (time, talents and treasures), He will give back to you a thousand times more.

Each one of us has been given with a unique gift that will wow and bless the world.

Find it.

Hone it.

Use it.

Astound the world with your God-given gift.

Be prepared to say, “Yes!” whenever God calls you to serve.

So the next time someone asks in amazement as to why you are so blessed, you may say with a smile, “It must be payback time.”

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Last photo  from Google.

My Musketeer Best Friend

Would you believe that I was a tomboy while growing up?

It’s not that my sexual preference is a female but I was around boys all the time.

My playmates and best buddies are all males.

We even formed our own dance troupe in 1^st grade!

There were 5 of us, 4 boys and I’m the only girl.

After class, we would practice our routine and prepare for the yearly dance competition in our school.

Showing off our dance moves to the tune of Backstreet Boys and wearing a huge bandana wrapped around our heads, we didn’t bag any place.

But it was okay for all of us.

The time spent playing and being with each other after school bonded us (and our parents as well) which made us all the more inseparable.

Because I was one of the boys, I never felt like a princess or a rose among them.  I felt more like being one of the five musketeers if ever our little group would be named as such.  Also, we lived by the three musketeers’ motto–all for one, one for all.

One of those boys was my very best friend.

Both our houses were near with each other and just a walking distance from our school, too.

So every day, we would play as we walk home together after class.  We would tread high piles of sand and pretend to conquer mountains while slaying giants at the same time.

One day, during Math class, our teacher was discussing a new lesson regarding greater than (>), equal (=), and less than (<) signs.  And there again was my dreaded Math exercise after every lesson.

There were two digits with a space between them and one must choose the most correct sign and write it on the blank space provided.

Because I considered Math as an allergy, I had a hard time grasping the lesson.

Almost all my classmates were making a beeline in front of our teacher’s desk to have their exercises checked and there I was, stuck and dumbfounded than ever.

My best friend sat beside me (he’s my seatmate, too).  He just finished having his exercise checked and boy, he got a perfect score!

I was astounded!

“How did you do that?” I asked.

“That’s easy.  Imagine the sign to be a mouth and the bigger number gets eaten.  Use the equal sign when both numbers are the same.  So, example, 3 and 7 right?  7 is the bigger number so you put the mouth towards it like this 3 < 7 but the way you read it is 3 is less than seven.”

“Wow.  That made everything more simple.”

“Hurry, almost everyone had their exercises checked.  What number are you on?

“Number 3?” I answered in a sheepish smile.

Then in a blink of an eye, he grabbed my book and began answering the exercise like a math whiz.

I was about to protest when he handed back my book and said, “Go!”

That fateful day, I got a perfect score.

And I admit that what we did was cheating.

I’m sorry, God.  I’m sorry, teacher.

I also realized something that day.   I found not just a friend and a playmate in Wenard (that’s his name) but an angel as well.

He makes sure that I go home safe by accompanying me after class, he would frequently drop by my house to play but helps me with my assigned household chores first and most of all, he helps me with my lessons and school projects.

As I look back and reflect on my life, there have been numerous Wenards in my life.

Tall Wenards.  Stout Wenards.  Boisterous Wenards.  Muscular Wenards.  Sickly Wenards.  Long-haired Wenards.

The Wenards in my life came in different shapes, sizes, attitudes, moods, preferences, hair styles, hair color, etc.

But one thing binds them all:  they make my life easier.

Sometimes, we don’t even know it but a Wenard is just within our reach.

A  pilot who brings us safely to our destination.

A cook at our school cafeteria who prepares clean and delicious food for lunch.

A house helper who washes and irons our clothes.

A delivery boy who treads the heavy traffic in Edsa so he can bring your hot pizza in time for your favorite basketball game.

A janitor who makes sure that the bathroom stalls you use in your office are spotless and odor-free.

The garbage collector who makes sure to drop by every week so that your trash may not rot and be attacked by rats or street animals.

The government official who chooses to serve and implement laws for your safety.

The priest who spends time studying and reflecting on God’s Word so that your soul may be nourished through the Eucharist.

Look around you.

Wenards are everywhere.

There might be even one in your midst right now.

And like me, prepare to be astounded.

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Photos from google.