Giving a Breath of Hope

My friend Donna gave me a link to a blog about a 2 ½ -year old boy named Jon Angelo Viado. She was asking if I could help. Curious, I decided to click on the link; what I saw crushed my heart.

Baby Jon Angelo Viado’s videos and pictures made me stop breathing for a few seconds. This little angel, this little ray of hope, is actually a little boy who needs all the help we can give. Baby Jon is suffering from HIE, or Hypoxic Ischemic Encepalopathy. For him to be able to breathe properly, he needs to be on a mechanical ventilator 24/7. His parents are now doing everything just to find ways to get help for their little angel. One of the creative ways that Jon’s parents came up with was selling “Breathe Hope” bracelets.

If you want to give this little boy a chance to experience life longer, and if you want his parents to share more beautiful moments with him, reach out and help them by purchasing the specially made “Breathe Hope” bracelets now. For more details about this, click on this link.

Do yourself a favor and reach out to baby Jon today. If we can spend hundreds of pesos for our cellphone loads, why can’t we spare the same amount for a little angel who needs our help?

Breathe hope into baby Jon today and breathe hope into the hearts of his parents.

A Testament of My So-called Legacy...

Being a teacher has a lot of perks - you get to meet a lot of people; you get to be of help to others, especially the youth; you get to share your knowledge and talents with the country's future leaders. The best among all these, however, is knowing that your student has grown up to become a wonderful, intelligent, responsible and passionate adult. Trust me, there is no other reward sweeter than this for teachers who are devoted to their goal of helping their students to "cross bridges."

Recently, one of my former students posted a blog about her passion for writing. She sent me a message through my Facebook account and told me that she thanked me in her blog. My first reaction was of gratefulness, especially since it has been years since we last saw each other and talked. It has been years since we last exchanged ideas. I wasn't prepared for what I read.

When she said she "thanked me," I thought it was just something "in passing." It wasn't. It was a thank you that resonated through my soul...a thank you that made me realize how lucky I am to have been given the chance to share myself to my students for eight wonderful years. It was something that made me realize how teaching added meaning and purpose to my life - and how much of this life I shared with my students.

I am grateful. Truly grateful. I left the teaching profession in 2006, yet my students continue to remember; my students continue to make me feel special. I can never be thankful enough. All the hard work of those eight long years have been paid. And I know I will continue to reap rewards - everytime I see or hear of a student graduating from college, or getting a job, or finally getting the promotion he rightfully deserves. My life will be a continuous celebration of my students' failures and successes. And from this day on, I'll make sure to keep that in mind.

So, to Hazel, I say: I am proud of you! So proud that I am now sharing your blog post to my friends. I simply love the person that you have become. I am so amazed at how passionate you are with the things that you write about. I am in awe of how far you have gone since I last saw you. The only thing that has remained the same is this: that you are still one of the best writers among all the students I have had! Thank you for sharing a part of your young life with me; and thank you for keeping me in your life.

To all my students, thank you. Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your lives. Allow me to continue sharing my life (and my passions) with you - and I hope you'll allow me to still be a part of yours.

(Go on to Hazel's blog and get into her thoughts. You'll understand better what I am trying to say if you read what she wrote: My Passion for Writing)

My “anaks”…

Originally written on Wednesday, February 28th, 2007

I was a teacher for eight long years. I am thankful that I was given the chance to be one, especially since teaching was not really in my secret list of dream jobs.

For the past eight years, I have been fortunate enough to meet and interact with extremely talented and intelligent people. I mingled with simple people who had extraordinary personalities. I learned a lot from them, and I became the person that I am today because of them.

In a world that’s concerned more with politics, money-making schemes and gossip, it is difficult to look for people who are genuinely appreciative of what and who you are. Oftentimes, people simply look at you from head to toe, and then dismiss you as an ordinary Joe or Jane. But the people that surrounded me in my eight years of stay as a teacher are different. They made me feel special and appreciated. Especially my "anaks" (children).

These people have become my second family. I call them my "anaks" because that’s how I treat them; that’s how I see them, and that’s how I feel about them. Everyday, when I arrived in school, I looked forward to spending time with them - we normally spent time after class or during club meetings. We swapped stories, dreamt of incredibly magical futures, exchanged ideas and simply had fun together. Whatever we did, we enjoyed. Wherever we went, we had fun.

These people, my "anaks", accept me for what I am - all my pluses and minuses. When I get mad or feel bad about them, they don’t turn their backs on me; they don’t leave me - they stick with me and try to understand. When they know that I want something for them, like a good grade or an excellent performance in a play, they don’t complain. They understand why. When I make mistakes, they don’t laugh at me or complain - they help me correct these. When I am happy, they are happy. When I am sad and hurt, they empathize with me.

They know me inside out. They feel me. They love me despite my imperfections.  And knowing this overwhelms me. I know I am lucky. I am blessed. And everyday, I never miss the chance to thank the Almighty for giving my "anaks" to me. Maybe He doesn’t want to give me a child of my own so that I can continue to look after my many "anaks". And who am I to complain? But then, why will I complain? These are the people who accept me for who I am; who appreciate all that I am and all that I do. These are the people who complete me.

I don’t have to point out who my "anaks" are. They know who they are. I’m praying that each one of them will read this, so they will all know just how special they are to me.

In reality, my eight years as a teacher gave me more than the financial blessings I received. Being a teacher introduced me to my second family - the extensions of my life. I can never be and I will never be without them.

My "anaks"...

…they’re all special…beautiful…intelligent…talented…

…and I love all of them…

…unconditionally.

My "anaks"…

…They complete me.

Something Old...But Original!

In the next few days, I will be uploading some of my blogs from my Friendster account. Just this morning, I finally got around to deleting my account. I've decided to post my favorite blogs here.

Let's begin with something that I wrote about my "eerie" experiences in Manila. Back in the 90s, my friends and I would go around the Quezon City or Pasig City until the wee hours of the morning because the talents we were managing then had hotel and bar shows. As a result, we have had a lot of out-of-this world experiences. When I came home to Cagayan de Oro, I also had some similar experiences with friends and students.  The stories that follow are just some of them.

GHOST STORIES

When I was still a contributing writer for Eternal Woman magazine in Manila, our November issue would always include stories about the paranormal. So, although Halloween has come and gone, I decided to post this and share with you my experiences…

THE WORLD IS A STAGE

Sometime in 1992, my friends and I decided to produce an all-original Filipino musical to showcase the talents of our artists. We came up with a story combining modern and folk customs. We wrote some of the songs after a number of brainstorming sessions.

During one of these sessions, our group decided to stay overnight at a hostel in one of the universities in Quezon City. Everything went well until one of my friends, David, heard a knock on the door. At first, we thought nothing of it because we were still expecting several friends to arrive. But the knocking was so loud - loud enough to make us jump into the beds and huddle like scared little boys and girls! One of us finally found the courage to open the door. We all took a peep at the hallway, but nobody was there. It was totally deserted! We hurriedly locked the door and continued to stick together as we tried to figure out what just happened. A few minutes later, our friends arrived and we told them about the incident. We thought they had played a game on us. But they didn’t. It wasn’t them!

We made sure that the door was locked and the windows were secure. We began brainstorming and continued doing so until the wee hours of the morning. We went home the following day, still wondering about what really happened the night before.

We were practicing in the hallway of one of the university’s buildings. It was raining hard, and since the hallway had an accordion door, it was an open area and the rain slowly drifted into our practice area. The hallway had a staircase on each end, so we decided to go up on one of them and wait for the flood to subside. We took our stereo, our bags and all the other props we had with us. Then one of my friends, Rainel, lost something (I think it was a part of his overnight bag). As he was searching for it, he happened to glance at the opposite staircase. He saw something and he called out our attention. What we saw really scared the heck out of us! On top of the staircase was a lady dressed in a long black gown. She had long black hair and her feet were chained. She was dragging her feet and the sound she made was incredibly creepy. We tried to push away the vision, but the next time we looked, we saw (and heard!) her coming toward us! Without even thinking twice, we grabbed our belongings and rushed out of the building.

We never practiced in that building again, never mind if the rent was cheap!

On performance day, while getting the stage ready, one of the actors lost her slippers, which she put away in one of the dressing room closets. Nobody knew what the slippers looked like, but we looked for it anyway. Then just as we were clearing up the stage for the final run-through, we saw a pair of slippers on centerstage! It had materialized mysteriously, as nobody put it there.

Several other things in the dressing room mysteriously disappeared that evening. Some were found in a different place.



It was around two or three in the morning of February 25, the EDSA Revolution anniversary. We were headed home after a friend’s regular show at a Mandaluyong hotel. Our singer-friend, Erwin, lived in Fairview, so we agreed that he would be dropped off first. There were five of us in the car: Rainel, who was driving; PJ, who was in the front passenger seat;  and then Jheng ,Erwin & I, all seated at the back.

Before reaching the overpass between Camps Aguinaldo and Crame, Rainel suddenly started swerving the car. First to the right, then to the left. We asked him why and he said there was a man, obviously drunk and holding a gin bottle, who was trying to cross the street. He pointed the man at us. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, but I cannot remember anymore if he had on a pair of jeans or brown slacks. Indeed, he was carrying a bottle in his hand. It was obvious that he was drunk because he was like dancing when he walked. There was a taxi beside us, also trying to avoid the man. As we were about to go up the overpass, we passed by the man. Just as we looked at him, he suddenly disappeared. Rainel screeched the car to a halt as we looked back and searched for the man. The taxi beside us also stopped. EDSA was deserted. It was only us, the taxi driver and the two cars on the road! There was definitely no drunk trying to cross the street!

We decided to sleep over at Erwin’s place, since we were all too afraid to go home and drive by EDSA again.

Exactly a week after, while on our way home from Erwin’s stint at the same hotel in Mandaluyong, we decided to play brave angels and pass by an old, deserted house in Little Baguio, San Juan. We had Natz with us, our friend who was extremely sensitive to paranormal beings and occurrences.

The streets in that part of San Juan go up and down, just like the main streets of Baguio. PJ parked the car outside the house’s gate. There was nobody in the big garden, or inside the house. It was completely dark. There was a big tree in the garden, and that was where we focused our attention. We stared at the tree for a few minutes before Natz finally said he felt somebody’s presence. That gave us chills as Jheng, Erwin and I felt the hairs on our neck stand. We told PJ we’ve had enough and that we had to move along.

PJ started the car once, twice, but nothing happened. He tried again…and again…and again…still nothing happened. PJ said it was like something, or somebody, was trying to stop him from starting the car. Suddenly, we saw a pair of headlights heading our way. We told PJ to try again, because we noticed that the car (or the headlights, which was all we actually saw!) was heading straight towards us. But PJ was unsuccessful. I think he said something like, "naninigas paa ko!" We panicked! The car was almost in front of us!

Then, just as the other car was about to collide with us, PJ was able to start the engine. We breathed a sigh of relief and thanked God, then turned to look at the other car as it passed by us. To our surprise, it disappeared! We froze for a few minutes, shouted and then PJ sped off.

We slept at PJ’s house that evening, all of us still in shock. We never took that road again, even in broad daylight!

CAGAYAN DE ORO CITY

I came home to Cagayan de Oro in May 1998, and began a fulfilling career as a teacher in a private school in Bugo. In my eight years of serving the school, I’ve had a number of intriguing, mysterious and paranormal experiences. Some experiences involved my co-teachers and the students. But the most horrifying one happened to my friend Ann, my student Christine Baitan, and I…

It happened on a Sunday, sometime in 1999. Ann, Christine, and I, decided to drop by the school after hearing mass and buying ingredients for our dinner. I lived with Ann in a rented house near the school at that time. Anyway, we decided to go because we needed to get some books and papers that had to be worked on.

As we reached the school, we noticed that the big gate was open. We also noticed how dark it was, and that the security guard was nowhere to be found. We went in anyway.

While Ann gathered enough courage to walk through the dark hallway leading to the faculty room, Christine and I called up some friends using the office phone. The phone was usually by the office window so that the guard can easily answer calls even if the office was locked.

Ann was finally able to persuade us to accompany her to the faculty room. We passed by the nursery and Kinder 1 classrooms and walked hurriedly, forming a single line, with Ann in the lead and I, at the back. As we reached the hallway near the Kinder 2 classroom and the flagpole, Ann began to sing the "Our Father." I asked her why she was singing but she didn’t reply. Christine and I joined in the singing.

Then, as I glanced to my left, by the flagpole, I saw a figure moving. It was dressed in a black robe and had no visible face and arms. And what made him (I presumed it was a "him") look even more scary was the fact that he was floating! Add to that the fact that he was headed straight at us! My heart beat faster and I felt tingles all over my body. Our singing became even louder; our steps, quicker. We were almost running! When we reached the faculty room, we hardly spoke a word and quickly took all the books and papers we needed. We left the faculty room and made sure it was locked.

We formed a single line again and started walking fast. I took a glance at the field, but the figure was nowhere to be found. We saw the guard and asked him how long he had been in the field, and he told us he had just arrived. I wanted to scream, but found that I couldn’t. We were unbelievably quiet as we went along the way.

As soon as we were outside the campus, Ann and I asked Christine if she saw what we saw. She did not. She sang along with us because it felt like the right thing to do at that time. We told her what we saw and she gasped in shock.

We walked back to our apartment still scared, but thankful that God saved us and no harm came to us.


Thank God I haven’t had a similar experience in years. Maybe because I’ve grown stronger in my faith and have learned to constantly pray, no matter where I am or what time of day it is. Prayer and faith in God are still the best weapons against any scare - man-made or not.

It is also important that we remember that these souls are lost. There are reasons why they manifest themselves to us. Again, the best resort would be prayers. We need to constantly pray for them, so they may find their way into the light that leads to God’s Kingdom.