Out of wedlock, not out of love.
Out of lust and out of need,
Out to satisfy a selfish deed.
Not a family says my mom,
Just a child who’ll look on me
When years had my body down.
Not a family just for fun,
Vices and women all around,
My father might have said, I am just a man.
How can I view myself as someone who’s beloved when all the facts pointed out that I am just someone who’s here because … because of things other than of love. When my mother found out that she was two months pregnant, she left my father and decided to raise me alone. My father never sought me out. He might not even know I exist, that he has a child with my mom.
I grew up loved so much by my mom. She worked on multiple jobs to provide food and have me educated, but somewhere, somehow, it wasn’t enough. I long for something she can’t possibly give, a whole family, a father’s love. I long imagined what it would be like if he were with us, where we would go, what we would do. I would boast around with my playmates and introduce him to them, but only a child could dream. When I grew older, on my high school years, I stopped dreaming and started to carry on grudge, disappointment, hate – I became rebellious. I was afraid then to lose my mother, I didn’t want to be alone. I started to seek love and company with my friends, a back-up, I thought. They were always available and were fun to be with. I told myself, I would learn to live without my mom, and when she’s gone, it wouldn’t hurt much because I have already adapted to it before it even happened.
When I was 14, I joined a fraternity. I suffered the pain of initiation for the bond’s sake. In my mind, now I and my friends were more than just friends, we were brothers and sisters; I have them and they have me. I learned to live the street life; I cut classes, went to places when I should be in school, drank liquor and smoked occasionally. I also got involved with fights and was called to the principal’s office every now and then, one fight even led to a series of meetings at the Barangay Hall. I lose my spot on the list of top students, and even failed in 2 subjects which I had to retake in a summer class. My life was indeed a mess then. Dark days. How could a child who grew up in Sunday School turned into a rebel?
Summer of 2002, the Christian institution that was sponsoring me since pre-school, listed me to join in a Summer Youth Camp in Zambales for three days. There we had morning, afternoon, evening devotions and other social and spiritual activities. I was somehow touched, but it still wasn’t enough to draw me back to light. On the day I got back home, I immediately went to my friends and we had a welcome back drinking session. The next school year was just like the last – same set of friends, same gimmicks and same meeting on the same street except something happened. Our so-called family of friends started to break. We were no longer fighting as a team and instead were fighting one another, back-stabbing, gossiping, secrets out – hatred filled our cups. One night, while I was trying to escape a group of girls I had trouble with, I saw three of my friends across the street, they didn’t even move a little and just watched me do my stuff along with my best friend. I hated them. I swore never to talk to them again. My world grew smaller every day, more roads were becoming unavailable for me to walk on safely. People talked bad things. The circumstances were not on my favor. Dark ways. How can a person who knew the Light ever walk in the path of darkness?
Summer of 2003, after graduating in highschool, I was again listed for the Summer Youth Camp. I was nursing an angry, betrayed, unloved, rebellious heart then, but when the music played, my brick armor slowly melted away – I found myself crying over the song, “Binago N’ya”. The lyrics spoke of my life. I wanted to be changed. I wanted what the song says “♪♫…Oh, kay buti ng Diyos at ako’y binago Niya.♫♪”. I wanted God to come true in my life but I didn’t know how. I agreed with whatever the preacher, the leader, and what everyone there said. I was baptized on the third day of camp. Days after, I still found myself the same person; I acted, spoke, and thought just the same way.
Weeks after the camp, we were gathered for a follow-up. There, I found myself crying over songs of praise, and again, I just didn’t know why – something of mystery was breaking my rebellious heart. One participant even mocked us as cry babies, my companion pointed her finger at me saying she’s not, only me. What I remembered then was that I didn’t care with what they’re saying. They just didn’t know why I was crying, even I didn’t. Something great was filling me. I just didn’t know what it was called.
A series of spiritual follow-ups followed me through the years, from DVBS or Daily Vacation Bible School to Discipleship Seminar to True Love Waits to Career Paths, and couple of Youth Camps and many more. Over the years I have watched how God has fetched me from the darkness and has brought me along with Him in the light. I know I am saved. I know He’s forgiven me but oftentimes, I forget. I consciously shut my eyes off the light and reminisce on how bad I was before, how guilty I am, what happened, how I got to where I was before.
Whenever I am asked for my middle name, which I answered with none, pity came to me like a lightning. It was painful for me to open up to strangers and discuss that I am an illegitimate child and is using my mom’s family name and so on. Whenever pain struck me, I started to pity myself and see myself again as someone who’s incomplete. The pain brought along my dark past and it was really hard to forget things and forgive myself.
September of 2010, a friend of mine invited me to attend on a business talk at CCF, St. Francis. My friend didn’t make it there but his friend came. My friend’s friend is a D-group member. I asked her if it was okay to join them. She openly welcomed me. As we grew together in the group, I felt the love around. I have sisters now. I could freely talk and not be bothered about how they would perceive me. They gave spiritual advice when I needed to decide on something. They encouraged me when I was down and their life stories and struggles and relationship with the Lord strengthened me in my own walk with Him.
I had my first time of fasting in 2011. I have known it since then that God indeed is my Father but somehow it has been just head knowledge, a should-know-fact as a Christian. In the course of my fasting, God made me realize that I should cling to Him as my Father, the only Father I have. Since then, whenever I ask Him anything in prayer, I sweetly noted, “Father, on who else I should give these petitions to? You’re the only Father I have.” I gave this note with a childish pout. My heart rejoices whenever I do that. The thought of having the Great King as my Father completes the emptiness that had once been in my heart.
In a recent fasting, I asked God to date me and let me know Him more. During the prayer time, I seemed to not have anything to say unto Him, and so, I asked Him to talk to me. Our love story–that was the thought that was impressed upon me. What is it with our love story, Lord? It surely isn’t love at first sight, so, when did it start? I looked back and this is what I got:
I might not be from my parent’s love, but certainly from His.
He allowed me to be me, the main reason there is.
In Sunday School, He introduced Himself and made me know His grace.
He shared me stories and taught me dances and hymns.
Young love so it was, easy to be swayed, and so, my love didn’t last.
When competition gets too tough, I left my first love and run so fast.
Was it love then? I asked to know. Heard my narrow mind say it isn’t so.
What’s Your answer? I didn’t catch. Yes, I didn’t. There’s so much that distracts.
With other lovers to get to know, I enjoyed myself and forgot about You.
You were there. It’s only now that I know. And so, the odds then are Your clues.
You pursued me when I was in a hurry. I strayed away. You followed me.
You invited me to Your events, set-up a camp and took me on dates.
Your roses are the bread of life and the Bible is the chocolate,
Loves notes are Your words and in hymns You serenade.
Your favors make me blushed. You are sweet, I am blessed.
You courted me day by day, and Your surprises keep me amazed.
I played hard to get and refused to commit, You waited on me and love me still.
Your love pursues me, and made me aware. That You’re there – loving me still.
My heart can’t get hold of Your love overflowing,
Your hands didn’t let go, though I keep on swaying.
I can’t help but to love because Your love laid Your all
And has made our love story great even before I fall.
Praises and thanks are all for HIM, in Jesus name. 🙂
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