Sunday morning

I can almost hear my friend Paul singing that song from Maroon 5...

Sunday morning was just like every Sunday for me- I hated it. Hmph.

And since I am THAT bored at the moment, I decided to make a good documentation out of it...as I had done before (remember that cake-eating blog entry I made here? hahaha).

I felt that time was dragging slowly by without me doing anything significant. I felt restless with being unproductive (though I know that I'll be wishing for this state when I'm back there in the ward, battling for my grades again as a senior).

I didn't like the heat, since it caused me to taste salty and sour (I tried tasting myself in the name of weirdness, mind you). But on the other hand I loved it because it caused the release of endorphins in my body which gave off a feel-good sensation- which really helped in such a slow day.

First, on this picture. I woke up at around elevensomething in the morn, got up and ate whatever there was on the table. I cleaned up and gave my dear cousin Shane a ring using this phone you see there by the two bears (which reminded me of a feeling I had recently with a friend who comforted me).

With my brother's order I called my father to tell him we were coming. He agreed. I put down the phone and told my brother (who was half-awake and soundtripping) about it. We'd go after I took a bath.

Yes indeed, I needed a bath badly- I was already stinking in my pj's and a favorite shirt of mine. But then as I entered my room, I saw my shoes, noticed them there on top of my shoeboxes, and thought...Why don't I clean you today? I sat down and took my time to examine them. They are actually my first pair of shoes which I have chosen for myself. And turning to the boxes, I thought...Why don't I remove you too? I touched the floor...Why don't I sweep the floor? And I saw my bed...Why don't I fix you as well? And to my cabinets...Why don't I dust you off with a wet cloth somewhere there?

So that's how it all began. My bath had to wait. I got to work...took out all the clutter I saw in my room- the shoeboxes included- and placed them either in the stockroom or downstairs. I took the broom and swept the floor twice. I took the mop, washed it well with laundry detergent and water, and started mopping the place twice to make sure.

For a good rag, I thought of sacrificing an old shirt in my collection. But sentimentality got the best of me, so I did not have the heart to tear any for the meantime. Thankfully I found a good piece of cloth, washed it, and started wiping the dusty surfaces of my dresser. I had fun at it.

The sun was shining and I was left alone to put things in order. I was in charge and that felt good. I was sweating profusely and I knew I smelled like a man then. But I loved the feel of the aftereffects of tasking. I arranged my stuff back in precleaning stead and locked the door. It was time to clean myself up.

I looked at my shoes and decided to take them with me to my bath. I took my old toothbrush and sprinkled laundry powder over my shoes. I brushed as hard as I could. I felt happy while I was rinsing them. After that, I washed my hands with soap and water, singing happy birthday to the shower as I rinsed. And then I took a very satisfying bath.

We went to my father's place in caloocan. I wasn't so thrilled with the waiting...and in my waiting I spotted something on the mess table which brought me back to my confinement last November.

It's been five months since I left the hospital...and I still recall that day when I was made to drink this gatorade lemon lime against my will. That time I found it hard to eat. I just wanted to be left alone in my bed without food and laughter (because it hurt then to laugh and even move...and all kinds of food, even adobo, made me nauseous). But during my last day of confinement, my mother, seeing that I was dehydrated, forced me to take this whole bottle of water with electrolytes.

Now see, even without my condition then I'd never drink gatorade because I find it eew. My brothers tell me that it only tastes great after sweating out. So naturally, for a nonsporty person who is fond of living the sedentary life, I abhor it.

Anyway, just seeing this drink made me feel nostalgic and made me think about my confinement days...
Meanwhile, I went to the house there. I was eager to see my niece Gracie, who happened to visit there too, and when I saw her I felt ecstatic...but not before my aunt told me, "Ano ba naman yang suot mo, shobe- ganyan ba talaga yang damit mo?" I looked at my brown loose pants and fun shirt which read, "I'm having a nice day- don't screw it up" and felt slightly put out.

What's wrong with what I was wearing then? It's decent...though too basic, I must say, but that's just me and it's not like I'm violating an event's dress code, come on. But instead of arguing with her, I suggested tactfully, "E di ba ikaw po ang nagbigay ng shorts ko na 'to?" And she had to soften her statement after that, hahaha. I'm so cute- at least I make them think so.

After socializing with them girls I went to the other side of the house to watch TV. My brother called me to the kitchen. I saw him cooking lechon paksiw. He had to answer a call, so he told me keep watch. I asked, "For what?" He said, "For rats." And so I did. But he did not know that I was the kitchen rat, so with amusement I took a piece of lechon kawali and bit at the sinews. I was taking this pic as he came back from the bedroom. I smiled sheepishly and ran off before he could tell me off. Hahaha. Yeah, I know I find it hard to grow up...

Towards the oh so boring eve, I had to wait on my father, who was taking his time talking with his drinking buddies out in his usual hang-out spot in front of his friend's store. I wrote a piece...texted some people...got bored some more...even threatened by my dear brother...and then my father finally came back. After some topic discussions, me and my bro headed off back to our home where it was comfy.

I spent the rest of the even talking with my Dii about her preaching during the day (she's a pastor). She discussed to me the significance of "fear of the Lord."

Now in school I was made to believe that this fear we are talking about is not really fear as in takot, but just reverence which will push us to obey the Lord who loves us so much. But then consider this phrase in the good book which also talks of fear of the Lord: "...with fear and trembling." Also, in the old testament (forgive me, I don't have the specifics at hand at the moment), the word they used for fear literally translates to English as the fear that we know of.

So in other words, fear of the Lord means to literally be afraid of what the Lord is capable of...so much that we fear to disobey him because it will disappoint him. Fear of the Lord compels us to abhor evil and say no to sin. Fear of the Lord makes us avoid being lenient and prompts us to always be on guard with our everyday actions.

Usually we especially as kids are made to believe that the Lord is loving and loves us so much. True. This is one important dimension of God's nature. But we cannot deny the power of God. God is also just. With this we know anything can happen with his will.

To illustrate, I consider my mother. Typically, I do know that my mother loves me so much, which is why I am still alive and I am in a good school...and I am as I am now. But it is not a secret that I fear her, because I know that she knows more about life than I do and when she gets angry, that means I am not doing well with my decisions.

Similarly, I know God loves me so much through the saving power of His son whom he gave us to pay for our sins. But I should also be aware that God, as the omniscient one, has an understanding that goes beyond all forms of human understanding. And he is omnipotent. So if I want to lead a good life, I should listen to him. If I miss, I should be afraid. If I sin, I should tremble if I have not asked for and received his forgiveness, because the consequences are great.

So what's the difference if we fear and tremble before the Lord? The school setting can be a good illustration of this: When we know that the teacher is lenient, always smiling and amicable, we let down our guards and go smooth-sailing in her classes. While this is not true for all, we are, at the very least, at risk for leniency with such a teacher. But picture your classes with terror profs. More often than not, we strive to accomplish our tasks here, looking out for every possible risks of falling out of the teacher's favor. We watch our actions and make sure that we stay in line with such a mentor.

God wants us to be wary of our actions in life. He is looking out for our best interests in His glory. After all, it is not about any one of us. It is all about him that we live. And in obeying him, we are assured of a better and a less-stressful life.