Reposting The Video Of Our Trip To South Africa

Our Video  -> made by Kika


It has been six months since our trip to South Africa, and I realize that I never wrote about it.
Just yesterday I was talking about it with Steve, and I said to him that I look at that trip now, and only now with such fond memories.

It was not a "relaxing vacation."
It was far, somewhat grueling, pushed all of us out of what we were comfortable with and also, it was an expensive trip to take.
However, having said all that, I think of that safari trip as like a marathon, or a climb up an epic mountain.
Not easy, yet the satisfaction of having accomplished a trip of that magnitude based on who we are (if you knew us in real life, you would understand) fills me with utmost joy.

This picture is from our last dinner in a restaurant in Cape Town, South Africa.
While waiting for our food to come, the four of us decided to have a drawing contest on the paper table cloth. We all drew a giraffe and asked our server to judge our work.
The waiter jumped right into his task and rated all our work. Now I can't remember his grading system but I do know that he graded Steve's work as a "U" for "ungrade-able"
Guess who won?

This picture or this story may seem like nothing, but it is not nothing to me.
That the four of us could sit and enjoy ourselves with a paper table cloth and crayons halfway around the world, I found beautiful.
You see, Steve, Kika, Gabi and I? We are not the most normal.
While this might be a secret source of my frustration, I am trying my best to accept it.
Right now, at this exact point of my family's life, we are somewhat like roommates.
With the girls being 18 and almost 16--they really don't need me for anything.
I am here right now just to keep the household running as smoothly as possible.
I try to herd them with daily dinners when possible, church on the weekend but that is the extent of our family life right now.
Supposedly this is normal.
Maybe that is true but it was not quite what I was expecting, nor ready for.
Anyhow, this is why a drawing contest in a restaurant in South Africa made me very happy.
I guess it allowed me to cling to their childhood just a few minutes longer.

For our next family vacation, I am shooting for a trip to the nearest Sandals Beach Resort.
While some people may scoff at the "unimaginative, pedestrian, or non-uniqueness" of a vacation like that--I can see myself fully enjoying a white sand beach to lay around and do absolutely nothing but soak in the sun and be served food and drinks.

Half Shell Bar: Oyster Shooters

Eat It Raw   

Airport Moves

Smooth Operator

Gabi in New Orleans for FIVE days

The Mission (A Very Long Post)

For any visitor new to my blog, I must mention that I have not always been wired this way.
By 'this way' I am referring to how about 7 years ago, I started developing a mild travel phobia.
It started innocuously enough, but not really enough to actually stop me from going anywhere.
However, one day, without realizing it, my affliction metamorphosed into a full-on habit of completely dreading vacations due to extreme anxiety.
I would brace myself for all trips and then would start obsessively dwelling on my fear of the unknown.
And then because of the gargantuan effort (an act) I put into making sure that everyone had a great time, I would be emotionally and physically drained after a trip.
A very vicious and messy cycle.

But that was before I started making changes in my life.
Ever since I incorporated a healthier lifestyle
(prayer, meditation, exercise and a better diet),
I am sensing that part of me is in the process of being healed.
So in the continuing effort to rewire myself,  I decided a few months ago to practice pushing myself to say yes to life. (The caveat being it must be a healthy choice)

This is how I ended up in Kingston for 6 days last week.
With 48 high school girls.

Let me backtrack.
I was asked by Kika if I would chaperone the junior and senior girls on a mission trip to Kingston, Jamaica.
Kingston is the nontouristy (no beach) side of Jamaica.
I was born and raised in a nontouristy part of the Philippines.
I knew exactly what to expect.
A foreign mission trip's goal aside from helping others, is to allow people to immerse themselves in an unfamiliar culture, stripping them of their comfort in order to either commune better with the people being served and if it is a Christian/Catholic led mission trip--then ultimately,  it is so people get closer to God.
Meanwhile, I had been praying for help with my difficult relationship with Kika.
Imagine my shock when she, who up until this point seemed to actively despise me, actually chose to invite me. (!!?!?)
So, in an effort to practice a faith of action,
I went against the raw desire of my core that wanted to decline this "honor," and said YES.

As the trip approached, I practiced my "don't dread, don't dwell" strategy.
I literally decided not to expect anything. I didn't even allow my brain to think about the pending week. Every time it would enter my mind I would tell myself:
"Live in the now. We are not there yet."

I did not dwell on the fact that this mission trip conflicted with a family vacation planned and that Steve and Gabi were going to proceed to Florida with family friends (JB's) without us.

So, while these two were away at a beach,

Kika and I went on a mission trip.

Nothing about this trip was easy.
It started first thing in the morning when I made a game day decision not to drive to the airport. (Steve was already gone)
My friend DZ drove us to a nearby bus stop so Kika and I could catch the public bus to the airport.
While I loved not having to drive in icy, unpredictable traffic and airport parking conditions,
Kika hated it:

So if my singular mission for going was to improve my relationship with her,
we were off to a rocky start.

Some PHOTOGRAPHABLE moments.

I photographed many parts of this trip except our visits to the Jamaica National Children's Home (JNCH) and Tegwyn Unit.

JNCH is an orphanage  and across the street is the Tegwn Special Unit.
Tegwyn is a facility for mentally and physically disabled orphaned children and young adults.
I went to Tegwyn.
Having almost zero exposure to people with disabilities, my first day there was rough.
I could not bond with anyone.
Incapable of communicating with the residents, I was so unsure of how to interact with them.
Initially,  I felt sick to my stomach at the severity of their conditions.
It was somewhat shocking to see such a concentration of, what I perceived to be, imperfect and broken people.
It felt so artificially forced to reach out and feed and hold and wipe and smile and sing and pray.
(I felt like a politician.)
Don't get me wrong--everyone on this trip could choose whether they wanted to visit  Tegwyn.
No one was forced to.
Except me.
I forced myself to stay.
Yet, although I stayed, I could not bring myself to feel love for them, which is ironic--considering it was Valentine's Day.

I was secretly counting the minutes and seconds until it was time to get back on the 90 minute long and bumpy bus ride back to our accommodations.

As we drove away from the Tegwyn Special Unit, I sat in silence questioning God.
I pondered the fairness of the Tegwyn residents' lives, seemingly, stuck in a torturous purgatory.
Guessing that most of the orphans had, among a host of physical deformities and complications, autism, and cerebral palsy.
I am ashamed to admit that I pondered whether death for these individuals would be or would have been a blessing.
It was a troubling feeling.
And so I started to pray.
I prayed not only for them but for myself.
I prayed for peace.
Suddenly, amidst the smell of diesel and the zigzag mountainous roads, I had a revelation.
I thought about that part of the Bible that reads,

"But who are you, my friend to talk back to God? 
a clay pot does not ask the man who made it, 'why did you make me like this?' 
After all, the man who makes the pots  has the right to use the clay as he wishes, 
and to make two pots from the same lump of clay, 
one for special occasions and the other for ordinary use."
~Romans 9:20

I recalled how startlingly impressed I was with the high school girls that chose to visit Tegwn.
They were so natural, loving and selflessly giving to all the residents.
As to whom God was using for special occasions in this instance, and who was for ordinary use, I don't know--as the actions of the teens were not ordinary.
All present were special.
Bear in mind that up until this point of the trip, I was merely tolerating the high school girls.
(a manifestation of my personal struggle with my own daughter.)
My epiphany continued.
I realized that we are all connected in sharing the goal of glorifying God--in whatever capacity given to us. No one more important than the other.

"Jesus answered, 'his blindness has nothing to do with his sins or his parents' sins.  He is blind so that God's power might be seen at work in him."
John 9:3 

I remembered the kind and lovely workers at Tegwyn.
How none of them seemed impatient nor burdened with the amount of work and care that needed to be done.
How very evident that God's love was being expressed by the caregivers.
Everyone embodied the word: authentic.
Then, I called to mind one of my favorite verses in the Bible that says,

"Do not conform yourselves to the standards of this world, but let God transform you inwardly by a complete change of your mind.  Then you will be able to know the will of God-what is good and is pleasing to him and is perfect."
~Romans 12:2

Before our bus even arrived at our living quarters, I knew that I was not done with Tegwyn.
So, even if our small group was not scheduled to go back there, L (another mom) and I asked our mission trip director if our group could return.
D accommodated our request.



"May you be filled with loving-kindness.
May you be well in body and mind.
May you be safe from all things physical and mental,
May you be truly happy and free."
~A Loving-kindness meditation



On our fifth day in Jamaica, two of our groups went back to the orphanage.

This time,  I was ready.

The moment I got there, I started visiting with as many residents as I could.
One 27-year-old woman named  Nikki, I could not ignore.
When I saw her the first time we visited, she was slumped in a wheelchair but had no use of any of her limbs.
She was non-verbal with zero mobility.
I think I was drawn to her because her face, although with a vacant expression, had normal features that did not seem to belong to her misshapen and diminutive body.
And then there were her eyes.
She had a piercing stare that seemed to look right into your soul.
It was during our second visit that I noticed that she was beautiful.
This time she was not in a wheelchair but rather placed on a large thick gym mat on the floor.
In an effort to get down to her level, I ended up lying down beside her in order to hold her hand while I whispered my prayers for her.
Her continued expressionless countenance prodded me to imagine what it would feel like to be trapped in my body with a stranger in my face, without the ability to express myself.
I didn't stay beside her much longer for fear of irritating her.

I made the rounds with other residents sitting with them, interacting, hand holding, and back-rubbing when suddenly I noticed a young man (who looked to be about 20 years old) looking at me.
Roy, whose face had a stolid quality to it, seemed to actually see me.
I turned to him and asked (I think, rhetorically)
"What can I do for you?"

What happened next I will try to express, but I am afraid words can not do it justice because the experience was somewhat indescribable.

I sensed Roy was trying to communicate with me.
He ambled laboriously towards me with the help of his walker.
Also non-verbal (not a sound) and with minimal use of his hands,
he seemed to telepathically, for lack of a better word, get me to understand that he wanted to go for a walk in the grassy area outside of their covered  and fenced in porch.
I had to fit his walker sideways through a narrow gate, then go back in for him to lead him to his walker.
And in what seemed to take forever and yet in an instant--
We were understanding each other with very minimal cues.
We walked side by side until he stopped at a spot he seemed to like.
Then, in a curious turn of events--he parked his walker and then took my arm to use me as his walker--and led me back to the porch.
Now we were walking fast.
His body language was urgent.
As we headed back to where we came from, I glanced back at the walker we left behind,  wondering what we were doing.
Back in the porch, he decisively led me to a 17-year-old girl in a wheelchair.
Still using me as his walker, Roy took my left hand and placed it on the left handle of the girl's wheelchair.
My right hand he positioned on the right handle of the wheelchair.
I understood.
As I wheeled her towards the narrow gate, he somehow indicated a latch I had not noticed before, to make the opening wider to fit her wheelchair.
And we were off.
Pushing the girl's wheelchair, Roy hanging on my arm--I made our way back to the walker.
Once we got there, Roy made me park her wheelchair beside him while he sat on the cushioned bench of his walker.
He was clearly satisfied.
Facing them, I stared quizzically.
Then it suddenly dawned on me.
"Wait a minute," I said.
"I think I know what is going on here. I think we have a love connection."
Roy's face remained unchanged.
But the girl, without being able to focus her gaze on me (I was not sure if she could see) broke into a huge grin.
I was unable to pronounce that girl's name--which is why I don't remember it--but I will never forget her look of pure joy.

After my interaction with Roy and the girl, something mysterious shifted in me, and I suddenly felt like I could understand the unspoken language of the facility.
A 12 year old boy approached me and I was able to play ball with him and other children.
When we left that day, I felt an overwhelming love for each and every resident of the
Tegwyn Special Unit in Kingston, Jamaica. (<--please help)

Processing this now weeks later, this is what I know.

I know that the little bit of connection at Tegwyn made my heart crack open.
I am also aware that when I had no love in me towards them, they felt it and were not interested in interacting. But, when I returned with a peaceful heart and a desire to love, the Tegwyn residents became receptive and in turn, allowed me briefly into their lives.

In the beginning of this post, I mentioned how physically and mentally exhausted I become after going on any trip.
Strangely enough, this journey, while quite difficult due to
-the sporadic and weak, cold-water showers, non-flushing toilets, the absence of evening quiet and privacy,  the garbage-strewn landscape, the dead dog we walked by as we visited a few invalids in a poverty-stricken neighborhood,
the long stretches of the helter-skelter commute from where we slept to where we worked-
--all of these aspects, surprisingly did not drain me.

The shared goal of service with an incredibly lovely team of 60 selfless people,
the simple but delicious meals coupled with the discipline of focusing on the now,
made me return home energized.
(Plus our Moms' Evening Tabata Workouts and
our 'Rose, Thorn, Bud' sessions definitely enriched.)

And, if my sole purpose for going was to improve my relationship with my daughter, then I will say that we've taken a step in the right direction.

Today

MLK Weekend

Findley Lake, NY 2016

Roch trip

In this first photo, my eldest bro J set the camera on timer and as he was making his way to his position, tripped over an ottoman and miraculously missed my mother's large baby Jesus display--as he twisted and fell without breaking any of his 60 year old bones. We laughed so hard and took note of those in this pic that reacted during his mid fall. It was determined upon close examination that I showed the most concern.

No falls happened during this photo.

Dim sum after church.

The Surrender Experiment.

Whenever I am scheduled to go out of town- I become a bit of a spaz with everything I have to accomplish before we leave.
I have a checklist of things that must be done.
This list generally does not include opening my home to two groups of teenagers for their Christmas gathering, hours before we are scheduled to depart.
It does not factor in Steve and I attending a dinner in the outskirts of the city while they are hosting said parties.
It does not plan on letting the teens be in charge of locking up our house and loading up the dog and driving in snow flurry conditions to meet us after our dinner, 30 minutes drive North of the city.
But this is what happened hours before we left for Rochester NY.
It was a surrender experiment.

(To be continued)

Open

I did not know that the word Cacophony is pronounced:
Kuh-cough-uh-nee.
Up until today I pronounced it: Kako-Phoney.

Whenever I discover that I've mispronounced a word, I get embarrassed.
I know that the embarrassment comes from my ego.
I associate mispronouncing words or grammatical errors with being not very bright.
This is a flawed way of thinking--as linguistic intelligence is only one part of the multiple intelligence theory.  Not to mention often times, it is a matter of accents and regional variations. Throw in mother tongue and intonations, one must realize that this is not a good measure of intelligence.

When I stop being critical of other people's grammar and/or manner  of speech,
then I will cease to be afraid of making mistakes of my own.
Much more learning happens when we keep ourselves open.
In short, we learn faster and better in the absence of ego.
Not just in language but in life.

Claudine

Late last June I got a Facebook friend request from Claudine, a friend from college whom I had not seen in over twenty years. We were actually friends-in-law--I knew her through Augie, a close friend of mine.

Me, Augie and Claudine, Los Angeles, Ca. 1993.

I accepted the friend request but was unable to exchange messages with her right away.
It was the end of July before I remembered to write to her before leaving for our family vacation.
(On my list of things to do before leaving: stop the mail, contact the dog sitter, clean the bathrooms, write to Claudine)
When she responded, she told me that she was having health problems.
Serious ones.  The type with the stages.
By the time our correspondence continued,  I was already in Florida-- but because of the nature of her personal news,  I did not mention that I was on vacation.
I think I withheld that information because it felt out of place in a conversation about chemotherapy.
Claudine mentioned that Augie was going to visit her from Texas in a few days.
I was happy for her. I even requested that they take pictures of Augie's visit.
Before I signed off, I told her that I was going to pray for her. And I did.
That evening, I told Steve about my friend's condition and he confirmed that it was grave.
~~~~~
While I was in Florida, I made a conscious decision not to post pictures online.
I was trying to be present, and in the moment--instead of focusing on the perfectly staged shot to share with friends.  I stuck to this decision until six days into the trip I felt the urge to post this photo of Steve on Facebook.  (Something about the beauty of the double rainbows and the symbol of God’s promise)

The picture posted together with our location: TopGolf, Tampa Florida.
Suddenly I received a message from Claudine:
“Are you in Tampa?” she inquired.
I said, "yes, I've been here since Saturday. Tomorrow is our last full day here. We leave Saturday morning. Why?"
She said, "Augie is here with me, and she said that you posted a picture saying that you are here too."
I was so confused.
All this while I thought that Claudine still lived in Los Angeles.
I had no idea that while we were chatting earlier in the week--that we were already in the same city.  Claudine was excited that I was in town, but because she had chemotherapy scheduled for the next morning, she wanted Augie to be able to see me. She offered that Augie drive her car while she was at her session.
I told her that I would go to see them, because I wanted to see her.

It was past midnight on Thursday, but right away I asked Steve if he could drive me first thing in the morning about 45 minutes away.  I wanted to get there before Claudine left for the hospital.
I asked Steve because I don’t drive well in unfamiliar cities or at all.
Steve agreed to take me, (which in itself is a miracle as Steve is not a morning person)
~~~~~
The next morning, although we hit traffic and sudden torrential rain, we got to Claudine’s house on time.  The moment I stepped in,  for some reason, Claudine, Augie and I started laughing about one
thing after another.  Our time together was brief but filled with so much joy.

me, Claudine, her sister Melina, Augie: Tampa, Florida 7/31/2015

Perhaps our giddiness was brought on by the serendipitous nature of finding ourselves all together in one place.  (I had not seen Augie in eight years, and Claud’s sister Melina who now lives in Tacoma,  I don’t think I’ve seen since our college days)
We chatted, laughed and teased each other non-stop until Claudine excused herself to get ready for her appointment.
While Claudine was in the shower, out-of-the-blue Augie suddenly asked me,
“What made you come?”
I asked, "you mean here for vacation?”
She said--“no, here,  this morning.”
I looked at her and said: “I wanted to pray for her.”
Augie’s already large eyes got even larger as she said, "Chesca. This is why I decided to come too.”
"I wanted to pray with her because  “When two or more are gathered...” Augie started to say...
I interrupted her:
“...There I am in their midst.”  (-Matt 18:20)
~~~~~
I don’t know how to put into words the experience of praying with Claudine and Augie that morning, amidst the mist and steam of Claudine’s after-shower bathroom.
(It was the only private place we had as Steve, Claudine’s family and guests were in the living room)
The three of us held each other praying for healing, with uncontrollable tears streaming down our faces.
By the time we were done praying--there was a serenely peaceful look on Claudine’s face that I shall
never forget.

7/31/2015

~~~~~
Last week,  I made the 300 mile drive to visit my mother for her birthday.
Right before I pulled out of my driveway, I got a message from Augie telling me that Claudine needed prayers.
I spent the next 5 hours of my drive, praying for Claudine.
I was unsure of exactly what to pray for.
I prayed for miraculous healing, but I also prayed for God’s Will for her and that if she was to go, that she transitioned peacefully without suffering.
I wish that this is the part where I report a miracle, that Claudine defied all medical prognosis and is well today.
But that is not the case.
A few hours later, as I was in the middle of planting a huge flowering Chrysanthemum plant for my mom in honor of her 85th birthday, I got the message from Augie telling me that Claudine had passed away.
She was 45 years old.
~~~~~
I’ve been pondering, processing and trying to figure out what that whole experience was all about.
What I do know is that, although I was not close to Claudine, being drawn to contact her and see her 41 days before her death has left me with an unmistakeable gift that I hope I never forget.
The peace, joy and confidence I saw in her eyes gave me so much comfort.
It somehow reminded me that a lot of what makes me crazy on a daily basis, does not really matter.
While this may sound like I am giving up on life, on the contrary, I feel compelled to keep doing my best but to do so while surrendering the outcome.
I hope that I become as calm as her when I near the end of my life...or at the very least in my life today as I live through the experience of parenting teenagers.
Seeing Claudine smile ever so sweetly as she was dealing with her terminal illness has pushed me to assess my approach to each day.
I am grateful that my Claudine Experience is encouraging me to:
1. Give up worry.
2. Forgive
3. Do my best in all I do, but let go of all expectations.
4. Stop wrestling with life.
5. Live fearlessly and with great faith in God.
6. Have only good intentions in all I do
7. Let go of my ego
8. Keep my mind and heart open
9. Love
10. Just do it.

(For my friend Claudine:  1/19/1970-9/10/2015)

Happy 85th Birthday to my Mom

Planting a Mum in honor of Mom

Pittsford Dairy, Taken 9/10/15

Summer Pics

Summer Pics

June Pictures

Summer pics.

Memorable Weekend

The Weekend in Pictures.

Not pictured: The steak, baked potato, corn, watermelon, pineapple, mushrooms, spicy green peppers meal I made last night for 14 people.

In Honor Of My Dad's Birthday Today AND Mother's Day

As Quoted By Our NYC Cab Driver Shamraiz Ali:

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing."
~Ben Franklin

(the rest of our NYC pics here)

I can't write right now--although I want to!!!!
I'll be back.

This Trip Was Planned Before I Decided To Host A Party For Steve.

Less than a week after Steve's birthday, we left for a family vacation to Florida.
I was not really ready to go on a trip, as my nature is to recharge under many blankets after a big event.
I recharge best at home.  In my own bed.
But I decided to do the  "don't dread, don't dwell"  on this and to be grateful for the opportunity to get to the beach in the dead of winter.
K and G were very excited.
We went with JB/MB and their three teens.
Plus,  two buddies of Steve from Punxsutawney (one lives 3 hours away from where we were, and the other 45 mins away) were planning to meet up with us as well.

Unfortunately, soon after we got there, Steve who was already feeling under the weather--got very sick. He was able to go to the beach on thursday and a bit on friday--have a nice visit with his friends friday night--but by saturday he was down with what seemed like pneumonia.
He had to stay in bed for three whole days--while the rest of us enjoyed the beach.

The thing is, this is not the first time Steve has gotten sick during vacation.   A few days later,
just when I was tempted to start taking this personally, DZ sent me an interesting article about people that get sick on vacation--
It made sense to me.
And so now, in retrospect, instead of thinking that our vacation was spoiled by his illness, I realize that perhaps it was a good time as any for Steve to have the opportunity to be sick in peace.
Steve being sick meant MB's time was devoted solely to JB so JB/MB got quality one-on-one,
the five teens had fun with each other and I was able to get an unlimited fill of the ocean.
(which I absolutely love.)
While at first I thought that I needed my own bed to recharge from life's busyness--I was wrong.
The beach is where I needed to be.
I am recharged and ready for more living.

This is me begging "just one picture!!!"

5 miler on the beach.  Barefoot.  I did not mean to go this far--but I because I was praying that Steve would recover or at least improve enough to catch our tuesday morning flight, I decided to shoot for the rocks at the end of the beach.  I didn't realize how difficult it is to run that far on sand.  I pretty much had to walk, jog, walk, hobble and limp home after the third mile. 
Here's the photo proof that I made it to the 2.5 mark...