Carrots, Eggs and Coffee

Here is something my sister Erma, the most incurable optimist I know, emailed to me. Definitely worth sharing with everyone. Read on.

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling. It seemed that as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her mother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans. She let them boil without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes, she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter, she asked, “Tell me what you see.”

”Carrots, eggs, and coffee,” she replied.

Her mother brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft. The mother then asked the daughter to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the mother asked the daughter to sip the coffee. The daughter smiled as she tasted its rich aroma. The daughter then asked, “What does it mean, mother?”

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened. The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

”Which are you?” she asked her daughter. “When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?”

Think of this: Which am I? Am I the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity wilt and become soft and lose strength?

Am I the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat? Did I have a fluid spirit, but after a death, a breakup, a financial hardship or some other trial, have I become hardened and stiff? Does my shell look the same, but on the inside am I bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or am I like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you. When the hour is darkest and trials are their greatest do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

May you have enough happiness to make you sweet, enough trials to make you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human and enough hope to make you happy.

The happiest of people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the most of everything that comes along their way. The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches.

When you were born, you were crying and everyone around you was smiling.

Live your life so at the end, you're the one who is smiling and everyone around you is crying.

The Parable of the Prodigal Son: A Reflection on Luke 15

My Bible reading for today dwelt on Luke 15, specifically referred to as The Parable of the Prodigal Son. I am currently in the mood to share with you, dear friends, my reflections on said passage.

So to all the men out there, let me sound this stern warning: this will be a man-to-man talk. In Filipino, usapang lalaki. To all the women out there, let me offer this equally admonishing note: it will rest upon you to let this transcend the level of girl’s talk. This is because this piece will talk about men. And a lot about women, too. To the women out there, this will speak about the characteristics that make up your ideal man. To all the men out there, the kind of man you simply wanted to be. To all of us, this will deal with the kind of person we simply wanted to become.

Luke 15, also known as the Parable of the Prodigal Son, has already become a very popular biblical story. In fact, we have now also grown so familiar with its message, that is, the forgiving love of the God. But please note that there are only a few characters in the story: the father, the prodigal son, the elder brother, the father’s servants, and the man who hired the prodigal son in his farm. I’d like to focus on these characters, try to examine each one of them and choose from them our own ideal man, our ideal person. In Filipino, ang tipo nating lalaki.

Let’s start with the prodigal son. To say the least, we can say that he is selfish. His selfishness leads him to demand his inheritance in advance of his elder brother in violation of prevailing custom. At the lowest point of his life, still guided by self-interest, he decides to return home.

What about his brother? We can say that the elder brother’s failure to appreciate the return of his prodigal brother is understandable from a certain point of view. His own obedience and loyalty, commendable in itself and never equally applauded, have dulled his appreciation of what family ties mean. Just like the Pharisees, he views the whole situation from the perspective of duties and obligations. He puts emphasis on law and conformity. And because of his exactitude and sense of justice, he also becomes self-righteous. He becomes no different from a rooster who believes his crows effect the rising of the sun, that he is the straw that stirs the drink.

Notice that oftentimes, we act like the elder brother. Perhaps because of our relatively exalted place in society, or perhaps because of false pride and hubris, or perhaps because we always like to think we know better than others, we already oftentimes think righteous enough like the elder brother. But it is precisely our exactitude and sense of justice that would oftentimes hurt our relationship with others. And to the ecclesiastics out there (this is the advantage of owning a blog Reverend Fathers: you’ll have no choice but to allow me to give the sermon), is it not regrettable that for so many people their first impression of the Church is of an organized, exacting and even harsh institution? Too much emphasis on law and conformity has often hurt the Church. Its better side, its Christ side, with real concern for people, does not leave the dominant impression.

What about the father’s servants? The father’s servants constitute the crowd, people who assume anonymous identities. They are passive, noncommittal and merely wait for and follow other people’s orders or examples. Soren Kierkegaard, the father of Existentialism, would call them the “herd.” They are people who could never be like the kites. Kites sail against, not with the winds. These kind of people sail with, not against the winds. Unfortunately, these people also constitute the majority. And who knows, by reflection, we may even find ourselves among their kind. Their role after all is the easiest one. They merely follow and obey and let other people direct their lives.

What about the man who hired the prodigal son in his farm? We can say that he took advantage of and abused the prodigal son, masquerading the situation in terms of a servant-employer relationship. He applies a lower form of quid-pro-quo standard of relationship, manipulates and abuses others. And again, his equivalent for today abounds in our present society. There are the profiteers, people who rejoice and make gains over the mistake and misfortune of others.

What about the father? What can we get from him? Well, let us try to consider this:

Have you ever experienced losing someone? Or at least, being separated from a loved one? It is painful, is it not? Separation is a kind of death. It is the death of the bond that ties the heart to its other half.

Have you ever experienced being betrayed or abandoned by a loved one? It is painful, is it not? Indeed, pain is most intense when caused by someone you love most.

But have you ever experienced forgiving and accepting back someone who has betrayed or abandoned you? How does it feel? Sadly, I believe that because we very seldom do it, we are not even very familiar with the way it feels. Forgiveness, because it opposed to pride, is not something we easily give away. Forgive, and you lose not only your face but also your wings which fly your ego to exalted heights.

The father in the parable, however, has undergone all these. He lost someone, was abandoned by a loved one, and was betrayed by his own son. But the pain of loss and betrayal notwithstanding, he still unconditionally forgave and accepted back his sinful son. This is the reason why the parable should instead be called the Parable of the Prodigal Father. For to refer it to the sinful son only fails to highlight the father as the central figure of the narrative. While the son was prodigal with material things, the father was prodigal with loftier things, with the things that really matter. The son was prodigal with money and material riches; the father was prodigal with his forgiving heart, with his love. The mean-spiritedness and selfishness of the prodigal son is the shadowy background for the bright hues of the father’s love. On the other hand, the exactitude and sense of justice of the older son only serves to accent the absence of parameters in the unquestioning embrace of the father. The prodigal son spent his riches and became poor; the prodigal father spent his own riches, the true riches, and gained more.

There is one person who best exemplifies the kind of love that the father showed in the parable. He died on the cross for his friends. He died for us, for you and for me. “Greater love than this no man has than one who lays down his life for his friends.”

Friends, I have thus tried to show you a number of role models as provided to us by the Parable of the Prodigal Father. Who is our ideal person here? In Filipino, sino ang tipo nating lalaki dito? As an old teevee commercial - yes, I am old enough to remember an old teevee commercial - relevantly asked, Sino and bestfriend natin doon? The prodigal father, the prodigal son, the elder brother, the father’s servants, or the man who hired the prodigal son in his farm?

The choice is yours.


P.S.: By the way, there is still one character in the parable. Which means we have yet another choice of role model in case we cannot decide on the role models we first mentioned, or just in case we find them simply not suited to our taste. And for sure, if we aren’t going to choose the prodigal father as our role model, we will soon find ourselves no different from them.

Friends, they are the PIGS.

Lolo

A very important person is celebrating his 101st - repeat, 101st - birthday tomorrow. Below is a diary entry I wrote a few months before he celebrated his 100th. I am reprinting it herewith as a humble tribute to someone I will always look up to: my Lolo Serio.

A DAY WITH LOLO SERIO: AN ATTEMPT TO DECIPHER LOLO SERIO'S SECRET TO OLD AGE (DIARY ENTRY: 5^th OF JUNE, 2007)

Every time my sister Erma would emphasize to this balding world's pilgrim that in today's age, what matters most is no longer how long you live but how well you live, I would always look at my Lolo Serio.

Lolo is my best example of a man who has lived long and, well, well beyond the meaning of the word "well."

Lolo is turning 100 years old this coming August 27, 2007. He wears no eyeglasses or hearing aid, uses no cane, and his mind appears as active as people less than half his age. He still sings in the videoke, dances the Pantomina - the Bicolano traditional folk dance - and plays the piano and the guitar. He reads his Bible daily, composes poems and songs and types in his old manual Olympia typewriter. Ever since I could remember, Lolo has been singing the Pasyon alone in his office every Lenten season. He goes to church everyday, at four o'clock in the morning, seven times a week, by walking from the house to the church and climbing the 76 steps of the hilltop church. He attends vigil at the Perpetual Eucharistic Adoration chapel every Friday evening.

Lolo has always been in the pink of health, this despite his age. He is not hypertensive, not a diabetic, and with no heart problems. He very seldom gets sick and therefore becomes absent from the daily four o'clock Masses.

Lolo laughs heartily, almost like Santa Claus. He talks to everyone with a smile - one that is so simple but always lasts. Lolo has the patience of a saint, an aura of a saint. And believe it or not, at almost 100 years old, he ironically also has the smell of a baby. That is because Lolo is always clean to a fault and would always radiate in splendor with his favorite perfume: Intimate.

What is Lolo's secret to old age? How does one dissect a contagion of warmth and peace as radiated by one's aura? How shall we run our fingers on the anatomy of a completely fulfilled life?

Lolo would always say he has no secret at all except his lifestyle - a life defined by prayers.

Lolo's day officially starts before three o'clock in the morning. It would be easy to see that because at this early hour, you would already hear him reciting the Holy Rosary. I have occupied the basement, right below his bedroom, for several years as my bedroom and I would know the first signs of Lolo's movements the moment he awakes. I recall, too, that as a child, I have had on countless occasions, the rare opportunity of sleeping beside Lolo and our departed Lola in their bedroom. And ever since I was a child, I have always heard him recite the Holy Rosary in Bicol although he narrates that he would also sometimes recite the prayer in Spanish when his parents were still alive. After the recitation of the Holy Rosary, you would already hear him singing and moving around in his bedroom preparing for the first morning Mass which is scheduled at four o'clock. One would normally hear him sing liturgical songs, oftentimes the Latin ones like Tantum Ergo, Ave Maria, Te Deum, or sometimes the Bicol ones like Daing siisay man an nabubuhay para sa sadiri lamang. You would also know once he is ready to leave for the church. The fragrant smell of his perfume would unfailingly announce his exit from his bedroom door. I believe that his collection of perfumes is the only vanity he would indulge himself in. And he would walk from his bedroom to the main door reciting three times the words Ave Maria purisima, sinficado concevida.

Lolo has been attending the first Mass scheduled at four o'clock in the morning since I don't know when - everyday, seven times a week. In fact, Lolo's absence at the altar during the first Mass would instantly announce that something wrong has happened with Lolo - he could have most probably gotten sick.

Since 1984, Lolo has always been attending Mass in formal or semi-formal attire. He would either be in a Jusi-tailored Barong Tagalog or in white long sleeve shirt with necktie. This is because he was installed in 1984 as a lay minister by the former bishop of Sorsogon, Bishop Jesus Y. Varela. Since 1984 therefore, he has been serving in that capacity the local parish of St. Michael the Archangel.

He walks from the house to the church, and from the church to the house which totals about three kilometers, more or less. He has always shunned riding on any kind of vehicle. The reason: he easily gets dizzy and he easily throws up during travel. In fact, he would rather walk going to Lagundi or Lamboon - each about three kilometers from the house - than ride on a vehicle. About two or three years ago, in one of my visits to Irosin, I had the chance of joining him in going to church to attend the Misa de Gallo mass. My Lolo was actually running while climbing the 76 steps of the hilltop church of St. Michael the Archangel, taking two and three steps at a time. It is just amazing at his age.

From the church, he brings the Sacred Host to some ailing people he knows. This has been an apostolate since he was installed as a lay minister. Thereafter, he proceeds to the bakery of Piaca, which boasts of the best hot pan de sal in the province, and buys some hot pan de sal and ensaymada. It would also be easy to know of his arrival from the church. The moment he opens the door of the house, he would again be reciting three times the words Ave Maria purisima, sinficado concevida. And of course, his perfume would always fill the air.

At about six thirty in the morning, he would already be taking his breakfast. His morning meal would usually include the hot pan de sal and ensaymada from the bakery of Piaca, Sunnyside eggs, fried rice, and a glassful of milk. No cold water for Lolo - he advises against drinking cold water especially in the morning.

Lolo would announce every meal and would therefore invite everyone to the table by ringing his antique bronze bell. The antique bell was unearthed in barangay San Juan during the reconstruction of the barangay's waterways. Today, I am told that the antique bell is now conveniently installed in the barangay chapel of Relief, Bacolod - one of the chapels he built for the local church.

After breakfast, you would see him feeding his pets - the dogs and the cats and the pigeons. I recall that he used to have dozens of dogs and dozens of cats when I was still a kid. And even today, he allots several sacks of rice every year for the pigeons. He loves pets - dogs, cats, birds, and even the exotic pets that my father used to have - deers, wild pigs, eagles, tariktiks, wild doves, bingalas, and different species of wild animals.

The rest of the morning would be spent reading his Bible and other books, writing - which we later found out were pieces of poetry and Bicol songs - and typing in his old manual Olympia typewriter. At about 10:30 or 11:00, he would watch television from his rocking chair. Sometimes he would play the piano or the guitar, singing his own Bicol compositions.

Lunch would be at 12 noon. Lolo eats more vegetables and fish. He very seldom eats meat. He cherishes anything ginataan. I have learned that as a child, Lolo had been called "Kinagod," in reference to the scraped coconut jelly. This is because as a child, Lolo accordingly had the habit of eating "kinagod."

Lolo would be taking siesta at around one o'clock. At times, he would fall asleep while watching television, on his favorite rocking chair. The rest of the afternoon would be spent on reading, writing, playing his guitar or piano, or playing vinyl plates on his old stereo. Lolo's favorite records include the usual classics - Bach, Chopin, Beethoven, and Mozart as well as classic Tagalog and English songs. At other times, however, Lolo would be humming along favorite march compositions which do not exclude marches played during graduation rites and parades.

Just a few years back, Lolo would be working on a field - weeding and planting - at four o'clock. With an old "buri" hat on his head, the finest bolo tucked in his waist, boots on his feet, and a rake that would also serve as a cane on his hand, he would indulge himself on his favorite exercise until twilight. The haciendero tending his farm.

Lolo's love is agriculture. He just loves to plant. For which reason, he bought several hundreds of hectares of land, a large chunk of which he later distributed for free among his hundreds of tenants. Lolo was already distributing and giving out lands even before Agrarian Reform was made into law.

Dinner would be announced with the peeling of the same antique bell at seven in the evening. Meals would usually come with often-funny stories and anecdotes. In fact, it was during meals, on the long sixteen-seater dining table, where I've come to be acquainted with the sagas of Buroablo and Kuyukuti, tales which would later form part of my sweetest childhood recollections.

Lolo would often be strumming his guitar after dinner. Or he would be narrating personal anecdotes or discussing biblical narratives to avid listeners.

He would retire in his bedroom before eight. And he would again recite the Holy Rosary before he sleeps.

What I have spoken of here is only about Lolo's schedule for a day. There are definitely a lot more to say and write about him. In fact, it would be an understatement to say that Lolo is someone who never ceases to amuse anyone who knows him. For me particularly, he will always be of particular interest, someone I will always look up to, someone I will always be very proud of, someone whose very life will always be a model.

You cannot choose your ancestors, but whoever has chosen Lolo Serio to be my lolo is blessed indeed. To Him, I will forever be grateful. As my dear father Erning would always say: "Pambihira ini si Lolo mo. Di ka makakuwa sin pareho son. Sana lang, di man siya makakuwa sin pareho saato."

Long live Lolo Serio!

Postscript: Lolo became seriously ill just two months before his 100^th birthday. He was hospitalized and fought for his dear life due to what we only recently learned was ulcer. He spent several days in the hospital but he held on and recovered fastly like he was given a second lease on life. He triumphantly cheated death, all thanks to God and happily celebrated, with pomp and aplomb, his centennial last year. Except for a significant effect in his sense of hearing, Lolo is now back in his usual form, up and about, and as the song he sometimes sings goes, alive, alert, awake and enthusiastic.

Only about two weeks ago, I received a barrage of text messages from relatives in the province, all filled with hearty hahahahaha and a collective conclusion that Lolo would be up to live several decades more. The reason: Almost twenty years since my late Lola Salud died, Lolo is young at heart again, Lolo is once again ... in love!

My jaw dropped, as yours would perhaps do, too. "Shocking!" a cousin remarked. "Unbelievable!" another exclaimed. Hmm... I say:

On to the next 100?

This is Lolo Serio's baptismal entry in the baptismal records of the St. Michael the Archangel Parish. Based on this document, he was baptized the day after he was born (August 28, 1907) by Fr. Pascual Gacosta. Fr. Gacosta served the Parish of St. Michael from 1898 to 1914.

This is the almanac from which Lolo Serio's name was lifted. Entry for August 27 lists the name Licerio while an entry under letter G lists the name Glicerio.

The earliest available photo of Lolo Serio where he was about 2-3 years old. Clockwise: Eustaquio Pura, a teacher; Sabiniano Gacias, Lolo Serio's elder brother; Don Pedro Gacias y Gabiazo, Lolo Serio's father; Asuncion Gacias, Lolo Serio's sister and Don Pedro's and Dona Rosa's second child; Dona Rosa Gacias y Galindes, Lolo Serio's mother; Lolo Serio; Dona Emeteria Pura y Encinares, Lolo Rosa's mother and Lolo Serio's grandmother; Maria Gacias, Lolo Serio's sister and Don Pedro's and Dona Rosa's third child.

A 22 year old Lolo Serio swimming in San Benon Hot Springs. Photo taken on June 25, 1929.

Lolo Serio as a Lay Minister. Lolo Serio was installed as a Lay Minister in 1984 by the former bishop of Sorsogon, Bishop Jesus Y. Varela.

























Lolo Serio dancing the Pantomina - the Bicolano traditional folk dance - with Ms. Lilia Gonzales, current mayor of the municipality of Irosin.

A more pensive Lolo Serio contemplating the beauty of Dancalan Beach in Bulusan, Sorsogon.

Lolo Serio giving a talk to members of the Association of Senior Citizens of Irosin. Needless to say, Lolo Serio is the oldest member not only in the municipality but also in the whole province of Sorsogon.

Lolo Serio giving a short talk during the 2001 Christmas party of the Association of Senior Citizens of Irosin.

Lolo Serio rendering his Bicol version of Anniversary Song, one of his favorites. Lolo Serio still sings in a videoke and sings his Bicol compositions while playing the piano or the guitar.