Seeds of Turmoil

Israel. Palestine. The Middle East. The Holy Lands. When you hear those places on the nightly news, it is no surprise to hear that once again they are engaged in a battle for sovereignty, power and religion. It makes one think, why is that area so filled with turmoil? What is it about that part of the world that is so controversial? Why cannot these people live in harmony side by side?

"Seeds of Turmoil" goes in depth to the root of why Jews, Christians and Muslims embattle themselves in that land on the crossroads of Europe, Asia and Africa. It is just not a matter of religious differences that they fight over, but their claims over these disputed lands are based on the very beginnings of Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

This book proved to be an eye-opener for me, as it allowed me understand why it would not be easy to dismiss the seemingly endless wars in that area as merely territorial issues. It goes deeper than that, and I find myself wondering how their issues could be resolved.

"Seeds of Turmoil" is a great book as it gives people a backgrounder of the"seeds." It does, however, go a little shallow on the Muslim viewpoint of the conflicts, but since the author is a Christian, perhaps it can be complimented by a similar account by a Muslim authority.



Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Musings on a Rainy Morning

Don't you just love the rain? The past few mornings, we have woken up to the pitter-patter of raindrops outside the window. The cool breeze has already had us turning off the electric fan in the wee hours of the morning. Ah, what a relief from the sweltering heat of the past few weeks. I do not know if it is the same with all mothers out there, but it seems I never lost the heat intolerance I developed during my pregnancy.

The incessant drip-drop reassures me that earth is receiving its sustenance and life will soon rise up from the ground. So long as it does not become torrential and floods out everything again!!!

The daughter already has her singing-in-the-rain number down to a pat. She grabs an open umbrella and tries to hoist it up her head while walking. Ok, she resembles a toadstool when seen from the sides, with her upper body concealed by the umbrella, but its a refreshing sight to this proud mommy who thinks everything she does is adorable. Ok, not everything...

Although it means fewer patients would me coming to the clinic (again!) because of the wet weather, the rain seems to be a wonderful thing. It urges one to relax, slow down, reach for a cup of hot chocolate, open a book, or look out the window and just ponder on life so beautiful.

Yesterday Was One Year After

Sunday started bright and cheerful. Our village was celebrating the feast of our patron saint and there was a parade down the main street. Drums were beating, ribbons were streaming, lots of people were cheering and laughing. My daughter joined part of the parade with her titas, albeit in her pajamas, and was happily stomping her feet and waving her blue flag. What a beautiful day, I thought, with the sun shining and kids dancing on the street. What a great difference from exactly one year before, when dark clouds rained a fierce storm and floodwaters rose, covering the same happy street these happy people were trodding on.

It was one year since Ondoy/Ketsana let loose its fury. One year since my daughter was evacuated to a neighbor's house, to escape the rising waters. One year since my father spent the night on our rooftop, helplessly watching the flood rampage our home. One year since I spent the night away from them, furtively waiting for news that they were safe, praying that angels would keep them from all harm.One year since we all came home to a mud filled house, our belongings either destroyed or damaged.

We have all since recovered from that fateful day. We have cleaned our home, washed our clothes, replaced those that were gone. In a way, we have recovered, but each time strong rains come, we cannot help but fear it could be a repeat of last year.

Yesterday also found us attending a first-year birthday party of a friend's son. This friend of mine delivered her first child at the 2nd floor of her home, attended by only her husband, as flood waters rampaged on the first floor. I remember being part of a brigade calling the Red cross, media, and chopper services to bring her out of Cainta so she could deliver at the hospital. But there were no longer any boats, or even choppers available or able to reach her deeply flooded village. How scary and painful it must have been for her. Looking at her son now, I cannot help but agree that he is indeed a miracle baby, a bright light in that dark day.

I do count myself lucky that I have not lost a loved one or my home last year. I still grieve each time I remember all those lost lives, hopes and dreams. Countless tv specials and articles have been written about Ondoy, it truly is something we cannot forget. How long until a disaster like that should happen again, I do not want to imagine, but is something we have to be ready for. Sigh. Yesterday was one year after. I hope there will never be a yesterday or one year ago again like that.


You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
who abide in His shadow for life,
say to the Lord: "My refuge, my rock in whom I trust"
And He will raise you up on eagles’ wings,
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His hand.

Yesterday Was One Year After

Sunday started bright and cheerful. Our village was celebrating the feast of our patron saint and there was a parade down the main street. Drums were beating, ribbons were streaming, lots of people were cheering and laughing. My daughter joined part of the parade with her titas, albeit in her pajamas, and was happily stomping her feet and waving her blue flag. What a beautiful day, I thought, with the sun shining and kids dancing on the street. What a great difference from exactly one year before, when dark clouds rained a fierce storm and floodwaters rose, covering the same happy street these happy people were trodding on.

It was one year since Ondoy/Ketsana let loose its fury. One year since my daughter was evacuated to a neighbor's house, to escape the rising waters. One year since my father spent the night on our rooftop, helplessly watching the flood rampage our home. One year since I spent the night away from them, furtively waiting for news that they were safe, praying that angels would keep them from all harm.One year since we all came home to a mud filled house, our belongings either destroyed or damaged.

We have all since recovered from that fateful day. We have cleaned our home, washed our clothes, replaced those that were gone. In a way, we have recovered, but each time strong rains come, we cannot help but fear it could be a repeat of last year.

Yesterday also found us attending a first-year birthday party of a friend's son. This friend of mine delivered her first child at the 2nd floor of her home, attended by only her husband, as flood waters rampaged on the first floor. I remember being part of a brigade calling the Red cross, media, and chopper services to bring her out of Cainta so she could deliver at the hospital. But there were no longer any boats, or even choppers available or able to reach her deeply flooded village. How scary and painful it must have been for her. Looking at her son now, I cannot help but agree that he is indeed a miracle baby, a bright light in that dark day.

I do count myself lucky that I have not lost a loved one or my home last year. I still grieve each time I remember all those lost lives, hopes and dreams. Countless tv specials and articles have been written about Ondoy, it truly is something we cannot forget. How long until a disaster like that should happen again, I do not want to imagine, but is something we have to be ready for. Sigh. Yesterday was one year after. I hope there will never be a yesterday or one year ago again like that.


You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
who abide in His shadow for life,
say to the Lord: "My refuge, my rock in whom I trust
And He will raise you up on eagles’ wings,
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you to shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His hand.

A New Day

This afternoon, I watched the proclamation of the new Philippine president and vice president on television. Which was no easy task, what with my daughter demanding to watch Hi-5 and her other cartoons at the same time. I had to move to another room to watch it, only to have the princess follow me and insist on viewing her show wherever I was.

It is quite a treat to watch the procedures and pageantry that comes with such an event. One of the few times, in my opinion, that Congress appears as austere and honorable as it should be. Of course, there were several lengthy speeches whose points I felt were already made clear the past month. Yes, the automated elections were not perfect. Yes, there are questions of fraud. Yes, there are a lot of shady characters. But can we get on with the show?

When finally Noynoy and Binay were proclaimed winners, I found myself close to tears. Not that I am an avid Noynoy fan.But because it is the first time in my life that I understand the meaning of having a new government. As an adult I feel the pinch each time I open my wallet and have to stretch my budget to afford all the necessities. As a mother, I feel the tug in my heart each time I realize that I cannot buy everything I believe my daughter should have. As a doctor, I feel the pain each time a patient says she cannot afford a treatment neccessary for her cure. As a wife and daughter, I fear that violence and crime might visit my loved ones anytime. As a commuter, I grind my teeth each time I get held up in traffic, or some incompetent traffic enforcer bungles at intersections. As a Filipino, I ache each time I see a child having to beg for his family's next meal.

It is the dawn of a new day. I place my hope that the new government can lead us out of this drudgery we are in. I do fervently, fervently pray, that our new leaders can turn our country from that where poverty and mediocrity reign, to a nation where those words no longer exist. I want to raise my daughter in a society where I no longer fear that she would go hungry, or that she would be harmed, or that she would not know what peace and security mean.

Dear Mr President, at the risk of sounding like countless others, please turn this country around. We who grew up in the shadows your mother's yellow ribbon, we who marched in Edsa II, we who have grown cynical and doubtful of the true nature of government, implore you to help us weather the storm, and change the tides of our future.

A few days ago I watched my daughter stare at her hands as she learned to cross her fingers. I am doing the same thing. I hope every single Filipino finger is crossed, as we see this new era through.

Angel's Day

The little angel marks her 2nd anniversary today. I still cannot believe it has been two years since my husband and I have been gifted with such a precious bundle. She barely fit our arms then, now it is a struggle to carry her wriggling and demanding to be brought to where she wants to go.

She truly has changed our lives. From watching the latest flicks, we are reduced to watching Barney and Big Bird over and over again, to the point that we could predict every scene with our eyes closed. We used to stay up late to watch DVD's or go out with friends, now it is a miracle if we stay up beyond 9pm, nodding off at the same time as she, only to wake up to having her foot shoved into our faces. Yes, the little girl is a wriggly sleeper, but it is heaven to be snuggle in her arms.

She used to sleep in her crib, but is devious enough to find ways that morning would always find her snuggled between us. Even as an infant, she makes her wishes known and felt and would not countenance any delay. Sundays would find me in an inadvertent workout as I chase after her in play gym.

She is entering the terrible two's in a big way. I think she knows that she has us wrapped around her little fingers and is testing the limits every single day. She may try our patience and strength with her little real and fake tantrums, but she makes us grow as parents and realize that love is not always about sweetness and cuddling, but also involves tough love and endless patience.

Happy birthday, angel. You have brought us so much happiness. We continue to look forward to waking up each day with your itty bitty toes shoved up our noses. And your lovely arms holding us very close in your heart.

Weaning

For almost a year now, I have been attempting to wean my daughter from the bottle. Unfortunately, I haven't been successful at it. For friends in North America, your question would be why just now? For those here in the Philippines, you ask, why so early? I've tried taking away a bottle at a time,initially the mid-morning bottle, thinking that if she is able to take one cup at a time, I'd eventually have her progress to taking all her milk in a cup. But my daughter is just too smart for that, she figured that if she just waited a while longer, she would be able to get the bottle later on in the day. She would take all other fluids in a cup: juice, water, anything BUT her milk. Believe me, I own almost every cup there is, with soft spouts, hard spouts, silicone straws, plastic straws, tumblers with cartoon characters, from the designer state-of -the-art for babies, to the cheapo ones you get at the grocery. But I am not winning in this game.

Two days ago, I decided to hold my ground and did cold turkey. No more bottles. At all. She either takes the cup or nothing. Needless to say, she's been throwing tantrums all around and is refusing milk altogether. So far, it's been a trial to everyone at home, having her cry at the top of her lungs and pushing away the cup all the time. I try to do tough love, but deep inside, I'm having my doubts if I'm doing the right thing by "starving" her, and I get scared that I might turn her off milk forever, or that I succeed in dehydrating her. Sigh, I cross my fingers that she decides to drink milk again. In a cup.

Which leads me to thinking: isn't the process of weaning the same as when we make our defining choices in life, when we decide to let go of the familiar to reach for something new and scary? We all have our security blankets, but there are moments when we have to do things we do not like in order to move forward. Change jobs, move to another place in the sun, get married, get out of being married, make career choices that may or may not bring us what we want. For some, it is as easy as doing it a bottle at a time, slowly moving towards a goal imperceptibly. But for others, cold turkey is the game when you just have to go for bust and let go entirely. After all, you can only move to a new horizon when you lose sight of the shore.

I believe there come times in our lives when we just have to go for broke and severe the ropes to be able to sail to new vistas and reach distant goals. Or in this case, throw away the bottle and reach for the cup.