Today I Will Make a Difference

by Max Lucado
http://www.golivewire.com/forums/peer-nnaten-support-a.html

Today I will make a difference. I will begin by controlling my thoughts. A person is the product of his thoughts. I want to be happy and hopeful. Therefore, I will have thoughts that are happy and hopeful. I refuse to be victimized by my circumstances. I will not let petty inconveniences such as stoplights, long lines, and traffic jams be my masters. I will avoid negativism and gossip. Optimism will be my companion, and victory will be my hallmark. Today I will make a difference.

I will be grateful for the twenty-four hours that are before me. Time is a precious commodity. I refuse to allow what little time I have to be contaminated by self-pity, anxiety, or boredom. I will face this day with the joy of a child and the courage of a giant. I will drink each minute as though it is my last. When tomorrow comes, today will be gone forever. While it is here, I will use it for loving and giving. Today I will make a difference.

I will not let past failures haunt me. Even though my life is scarred with mistakes, I refuse to rummage through my trash heap of failures. I will admit them. I will correct them. I will press on. Victoriously. No failure is fatal. It’s OK to stumble… . I will get up. It’s OK to fail… . I will rise again. Today I will make a difference.

I will spend time with those I love. My spouse, my children, my family. A man can own the world but be poor for the lack of love. A man can own nothing and yet be wealthy in relationships. Today I will spend at least five minutes with the significant people in my world. Five quality minutes of talking or hugging or thanking or listening. Five undiluted minutes with my mate, children, and friends.

Today I will make a difference.

Beyond Forgetting

First time I heard this poem was some two decades ago, when GM Blue Cadavillo, then GM of Quezon Metro WD, delivered it during a fellowship night in one PAWD meeting somewhere in Laguna. I heard the poem, I fell in love with it and never left my heart ever since. Sonnets from the Portuguese by Elizabeth Barret Browning only takes second place.

BEYOND FORGETTING

Rolando A. Carbonell

For a moment I thought I could forget you.

For a moment I thought I could still the restlessness in my heart.

I thought the past could no longer haunt me-nor hurt me.

How wrong I was!

For the past, no matter how distant is as much a part of me as life itself.

And you are part of that life.

You are so much a part of me-my dreams, my early hopes, my youth and my ambitions-

that in all my tasks I can’t help remembering you.

Many little delights and things remind me of you.

Yes, I came. And would my pride mock my real feelings?

Would the love song, the sweet and lovely smile on your face,

be lost among the deepening shadows?

I have wanted to be alone.

I thought I could make myself forget you in silence and in song . . .

And yet I remembered.

For who could forget the memory of the once lovely,

the once beautiful, the once happy world such as ours?

I came

because the song that I kept through the years was waiting to be sung.

I cannot sing it without you.

The song when sung alone will lose the essence of its tune,

because you and I had been one.

I have wanted this misery to end, because it is part of my restlessness.

Can’t you understand?

Can’t you define the depth and the tenderness of my feelings towards you?

Yes, can’t you see how I suffer in this even darkness without you?

You went away because you mistook my silence for indifference.

But silence, my dear, is the language of my heart.

For how could I essay the intensity of my love

when silence speaks a more eloquent tone?

But, perhaps you didn’t understand

Remember, I came,

because the gnawing loneliness is there

and it will not be lost until the music is sung,

until the poem is heard,

until the silence is understood . . .

until you come to me again.

For you alone can blend music and memory

into one consuming ecstasy.

You alone . . .

Little boy no more

Last night, I noticed that my boy's voice cracked while giving instructions to his dad about a video game they were both crazy about. I really did not mind it when I again noticed that his voice is now a bit deeper than before. Then it dawned on me, "OMG! He is slowly turning into a man! My little boy no more!"

I stared at him, this big bundle of joy who used to be curled up under the baby blanket as I hummed a lullaby. He is taller than me now, after only 12 years (he's turning 13 on February 5). Still fascinated with cars but no longer the little toy ones he used to have several years back. It's now racing cars in video games. He no longer clings to my arms whenever he learns that I will go to the mall. He prefers to stay home and play basketball with his set of friends, thank you. I can no longer kiss him goodbye in front of his classmates. "Sa car lang, mama!"

I feel that I am slowly, slowly losing my boy to the adult world. I know  I still have around eight years before that  happens but I am beginning to feel the loneliness. Last night, I really hugged him tight. I had to. For tomorrow, he may prefer some other arms to hug him tight by then.

Cold January mornings

I don't think I will survive in the icy USA or any other part of the world where there is snow. I think I'm going to freeze there to death. 

This morning, I found it difficult to get my ass out of bed. Reason: I was freezing underneath two blankets and a comforter. And it was only 22 degrees outside. My son knocked twice to wake me up. The third time he was already starting to nag. "Mama, late na ako! Bumangon na nga kayo dyan!" Kayo meant me, Patricia and Andrea. That was 6:15. He was already ready for school by 5:45. I grudgingly got up, bringing the two other "women" with me. The two did not want to take a bath. "Mama, malamig..." Me, I lingered in the bathroom, conditioned my mind that it is Monday today and I should not be late for the office. Maybe I lingered long enough. I was midway bathing when I heard the car go vrooom-vrooom!!! I hoped my husband comes back for me. Thankfully, he did.

Haiti earthquake

My heart and my prayers go to the people of Haiti. With the magnitude 7 earthquake that hit their country yesterday, many of them lost their homes, their properties, their families, their lives.

The pictures all over the Net say more than the printed words of the news. Port-au-Prince, Haiti's capital, lie in ruins.  Thousands died and thousands more are feared death beneath the concrete structures that have collapsed as search and rescue workers pile dead bodies on top of another. Corpses are being pulled out from underneath the rubble. People cry out for help to be rescued. Survivors grieve over lost families and friends. Rescue workers frantically search for survivors. 

Vewing the pictures was very depressing. Mabigat sa dibdib. It's never easy to lose the things you worked for and the people you love. I can never approximate the grief that the survivors feel.

May God who created everything take in heaven all those who died from the tremor  and place them by His side. May no earthquake of this magnitude nor lesser strike again in any part of the Earth. May the people of the world be unselfish in helping the Haitians rebuild their nation and their lives.

Postscript to the Maguindanao massacre

A small portion of Maguindanao, just a stone’s throw away from where the boundary of Cotabato City and Maguindanao lies, was my childhood playground. I wasn’t born there but my family lived there for more than a decade. It was there where I played patintero, taguan and tumbang preso with the neighborhood children. With them, I climbed aratiles trees, caught dragonfllies and picked gumamela for Flores de Mayo. During summer, we would venture near the bank of Rio Grande where several mango trees bore sweet, golden yellow fruits which we would devour to our hearts content. I walked everyday, from our house to my school which was about a kilometer away. But it never was tiring. I had friends who walked with me and we endlessly talked about crushes and proms and projects as we crossed Quirino Bridge. We would go to church every Sunday and attend religious processions. I never got scared of bombs or kidnappers. At that time, the bombs were in the boondocks of North Cotabato. Not in Maguindanao. Not in Cotabato City. Not anywhere near I lived.

And so that morning when I awoke to the news of the Maguindanao massacre, I cried. I cried because I could not believe that the place so dear to me and which gave me many happy memories has become a killing field. I cried because I could not comprehend why people kill to ensure their hold to power. I cried because the victims were innocent people, unaware of the fate that awaited them when they joined that convoy to the Comelec.

Fifty-eight people, mostly women, died. Shot at close-range. Mercilessly killed. Raped. Shot again when they showed any sign of life. Buried in waiting graves.

I cannot imagine the panic and the terror that they felt from the moment they were accosted to that fateful second their unforgiving killers riddled their bodies with bullets, the anguish of their families, and of the children left motherless because their mama happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I hope that the victims will find justice, and I hope they find it fast.

I hope that the perpetrators and the masterminds will find it in their hearts to admit the crime and face the harshness of the law.

Most of all, I hope that peace will find its way once more to the rich and beautiful province of Maguindanao so that its children will once more be able to climb aratiles and mango trees, cross Quirino bridge and play around the neighborhood without fear of abduction and helplessly dying from high-powered guns of barbaric people.

Migraine

I have migraine. Had it since I was in my early 20s. Initially, it was infrequent and the pain was mild and highly tolerable. Slowly, it progressed to more frequent attacks. It came almost every two months, and the pain characteristic of migraine impeded me from doing my daily tasks. Then it just went away, did not visit me for a year or two.

I almost thought migraine can be "outgrown". But no, it cannot. Some four years ago, migraine became a constant unwelcome visitor. It came every month, with regular punctuality, a day or two before my monthly period.

Aside from my monthly period which triggers my monthly migraine, I have identified other triggers:

• chocolate - I really crave for this or anything sweet before a migraine attack
• cigarette smoke
• mint candies like mentos and snow bear, and most especially when I have them before taking any solid and real food
• some perfume scents, Polo Sport is one.
• car fresheners 
• lack of sleep
• bright lights
• skipping meals
• crowd (maybe the noise and the various "human"smell)
• junk food

I know when it is going to attack me. It is usually preceded by tummy disturbance. Either I am constipated or I have diarrhea. I always go to the restroom with increased frequency to pee. I crave for sweets. I get easily irritated. An hour or two before the full attack, I get an inexplicable feeling. Sometimes, I see flashes of light or black dots floating on air.

Then, the pain behind one of my eyes begin. Mild pain at the start, slowly intensifying until the entire one side of my temple is freakingly throbbing. It is so painful that I can't look down for fear that my eyeballs will fall off. I can't stand light. The slightest noise annoys me. I want complete darkness. I want complete silence, not even the cuckoo of the clock. The pain eases up a bit if I vomit, which I rarely do.

The intense pain lasts for the entire day. The residual pain lasts for two more days, including my abnormal tummy activity. By the time it completely subsides, I feel so washed up and wasted.

Only a migraine sufferer can understand another migraine sufferer. Yet I do not wish migraine to fall upon anybody just so he/she  can understand me. 


I have to credit my husband for keeping the kids busy downstairs and letting me have my piece of darkness and quiet in our bedroom whenever I get attacked, although sometimes I think he thinks I am merely over-acting.

Now, excuse me. I am beginning to see flashes of light. :(