The Quiltmaker's Gift

What a pity that I haven't heard or seen this book before. However, it is a true joy to find the meaning and discover that there is such a literature for children that illustrates what I long to do with my life for the coming years.

The book is called The Quiltmaker's Gift and is written by Jeff Brumbeau and illustrated by Gail de Marcken. It is a charming fable of a generous quiltmaker who sews the most beautiful quilts in the world, then gives them away. It involves a greedy king, rich and powerful, yet unhappy with the things he have. The two lives intertwined and each learn the power of change and sharing.

The premise of the story is that the quilt maker will give one of her special quilts to the king if the latter agrees to part with his so called treasures to those who are in need. It is like to free ourselves from the bondage of materialism and confront our fear of losing what we have. At the end of the book, the quilt maker gave one of the quilt she especially made for the king and the king answered:

"But I am not poor. I may look poor, but in truth my heart is full to bursting, filled with memories of all the happiness I've given and received. I'm the richest man I know."

It is difficult to give away things we possess or had acquired for the longest time. It is equally hard to let go. However, we live to enjoy these things and when we part, these things will serve their purpose to other people again. Our link to material things should be that of needs and not of wants. Hard to let go, but beautiful to live a more simpler life.

The beauty of living is not that of acquiring wealth but that of acquiring wisdom and strength to fulfill our goals to lead and reach others. This is one goal I look forward to achieve.

Christmas

We make choices in life. Some chose to be away from home because they need to start a new life. Some made a choice to be away to escape what there was in their past lives. Some chose to stay. Whatever the choice was, there is one thing that connect us again, Christmas.

I put up a Christmas tree for many reasons. I celebrate Christmas and believe in the birth of Jesus Christ. I put up a tree every year because I am alone in the house, for almost eleven months of each year. The tree becomes a reminder of my childhood days: the presents, the parties, the get-togethers, my friends and my family. The tree reminds me of the true meaning of Christmas: not that of receiving but being more loving, more caring and more forgiving.

Since I live alone, the tree is there to reminisce family gatherings and make myself feel better. Looking at the tree is like having hope all the time. When I sit down on my sofa watching the flickering lights, I cry not because of its simplistic beauty but because of the past and good memories associated with it. Christmas is my favourite celebration and putting up the tree early is a way of making the spirit of Christmas longer in my household. Believe me that it takes courage to put them back inside the box.

The lights of the tree just as the star that led the Three Kings to Jesus will shine among us so that we could always remember the goodness of Christmas and the goodness of our hearts, the friendship and the best times of togetherness, the love and warmth of our families, and our commitment to our faith.

Merry Christmas to all and God bless!

300

300 entries since the beginning and I am still going to write and share. Entries about my passions- gardening and teaching; trials and successes; failures and sorrows; books and religion. Each and every entry is a creation not just by the mind but by the heart. My present status as being all alone throughout had forced me to create a vessel to communicate my thoughts and feelings gathered everyday.

300 is a big number but still a minuscule to the many ideas that permeates my core of thinking. It is nothing compared to the many thoughts that pervades my everyday meet with disasters and joys. It is also not enough to compare the number of times I was hurt or fell in love or thoughts of giving up. The entries I wrote were just a summary of my real core.

Each entry speaks about a layer of my inner thoughts, desires or faulty decisions. They moved me to seek support from readers and learned through those posts the magnanimity of dialogues. I seek not of an audience but a venue for my appreciation and disappointments. I made a start, continued through these years and eventually managed to reach these many entries.

I will continue to write as it is my only companion in life. Even without an audience, my monologues about living will surely be heard not because it is loud and daunting but because it speaks from the heart.

A Child Like Keene

Keene's drawing

I accepted doing special tutoring to this former student of mine not because of money. Their house is about forty five minutes away from mine give and take the traffic. I take three different modes of transportation to reach my destination: samlor, a cab, and a motorcycle taxi. I take a Skytrain and a cab to return home. It looks a lot of riding but it is my choice.

The family of this boy called Keene is a wonderful family whose warmth and friendship are priceless. The sister is equally smart and fun to teach. Keene displays an ardent desire to learn in most instances. He absorbs details and has been very inquisitive since he was little.

I teach Keene because I have see his great progress socially, emotionally, and academically. I enjoyed my preschool days with him. He always have this infectious smile and questioning eyes. It is obvious that he's one of my favourites.

One day, his family has to be in one particular mall and it just so happened that I needed a book from a bookstore so I tagged along. The walk from the parking space to the supermarket where the family was heading was short but it was in that very short distance that I felt something in my heart.

Keene was holding my hand and the feeling of being a dad surfaced unto me. It was magical but short-lived. The possibility to be a dad is nil but to be one, for a short time, is empowering.

Small Talk, Lasting Impression

When I first started working as a preschool teacher in a not so familiar environment, I had apprehensions and bouts of loneliness about what's to happen and what's to expect. When one is in an unfamiliar territory, with less experience and knowledge about life, I get anxious.

One early evening I was invited by an English friend to have dinner at their residence. I accepted the invitation and enjoyed the company of her family. It wasn't a lavish feast but it was very warm and welcoming. When the table was being cleaned up, the two children ages 4 and 6, asked me to watch television with them and during that short moment, a conversation ensued.

"Who lives with you in your house?"

"No one, I live alone."

"That's why you are lonely."

"I am fine but sometimes I do feel lonely."

"You know, you could come to our house if you feel sad."

"Oh, thank you. So nice for the offer."

"We could play some games or you could come for a sleep over."

"That would be lovely. Both of you are so very nice."

The food at that dinner table and the setting of the house are just distant memories and I couldn't even recall them. The warmth and friendship of the family is the one that stuck to me through my many years of battling the realities of life. The sincerity and the wisdom of those two children had been cornerstones of my existence knowing and believing that people exists for others.

The boys had grown and the family had long left Thailand but the friendship they offered during my down days simply never skipped my mind and heart. Thanks to the Harris family.


artwork by Emilia D.

Answered

Morning tea
waking
staring out at a distance.

Deep thoughts
wishing
life gifts of exuberance.

Well worth
thanking
one's daily existence.

Moment stopped
gasping
far from resistance.

Distance short
beholding
a sight to fathom.

Second look
shivering
a face magnificence.

Blind sight
illuminating
etched phantom.

Benign sign
smiling
filled of wisdom.

My Own Fairy Tale

Fairy tales often captures the imagination of both boys and girls. The sword fight and the fearsome tales of the knight fascinate boys while the beauty of a princess and her magical adventures grab the minds of the girls. Often, fairy tales have a happy ending.

Some create fairy tales of their own. Rising from poverty to rich splendour, some have managed to do such feat. Waking up from the slumber of defeat and hopelessness, some met the light and started to fight. Of what seems like tales become fulfillment of dreams. I commend them for their achievements.

For others, the temptation of the apple seems aplenty in our daily living that biting one would probably be our initial and continual actions. It's not a kiss that could wake us up from our deep sleep nor holding on to the glass slipper to find our match. We do not need a fairy godmother to magically transform our present life to a one night of fantasy. For what seems like enchantment could also be a source of disappointment.

We weave tales in our lives making mistakes or completing a cycle of great achievements. The characters in our stories challenges us to meet a certain expectation but it is within our power that we make a life to live. We trust our own fundamental capacity to succeed whether we are generously supported or treated badly. Our fairy tales can come true because we believe in ourselves.

I wanted to create a fairy tale where I get to be happy forever and ever but I live in a real world. The real world has so many things to offer but I always miss the opportunities because I was busy with other things or simply because I ignore what's around me. The creation of my fairy tale will probably merit nothing but a sad ending. Thus, it is about time to look where I am heading rather than let people direct me. It is happening now and I am fortunate that I have faith in myself and that I can do many things despite the many obstacles.