Pinoy Expat: Blogging the Gospel

Originally published in Pinoycentric on June 13, 2008
 
Almost everyone and his pet has a blog these days. Teachers blog, and so do celebrities like artist Jim Paredes and his daughter Ala. Even international star Lea Salonga has one. So who’s to say this Pinoy monk can’t too?

Cenobite monk Dom Lawrence has been blogging for four years now from the confines of an abbey in the desert of New Mexico, and he finds it a very influential vehicle, not to mention it’s free.

“It has helped me a lot in doing my part in bringing the Word of the Lord to His faithful without having to actually leave the portals of my monastery. By blogging, I am able to send a clear message of the Gospel to God’s people and give them a chance to meditate and reflect on it on their own time and convenience,” says this Benedictine monk who hails from Naga City.

A teacher for 20 years at the San Beda College Grade School, Dom Lawrence joined the religious community Monastery of Christ in the Desert in 2002. When he got to New Mexico, he had romantic notions of “flowing habits, candlelit cloisters, awesome plainchants of an ancient Gregorian music echoing among dimly lit Gothic arches in the cloister corridors inside a monastery.”

The reality was a world away: At the monastery, aside from the eight-times-a-day community prayers, his days were spent doing laundry for community brothers, and washing dishes, scrubbing floors and toilets.

And then he discovered blogging in 2003. “I had been keeping a daily journal of my thoughts, aspirations, and reflections on the kind of life I live inside the monastery, and I thought, why not publish them online? My family and friends in the Philippines will surely love to read and follow it on the Net.”

Discipline, structure in monastic life
In his blog, Tales from the Cenobite, Dom Lawrence shares with an international audience stories about life inside the monastery. Here, everything is done in schedule, he says. “If a monk doesn’t show up for prayers or work, someone will fetch him from his room, and it will be embarrassing.”

Lunch or the main meal of the day is done in silence, Dom Lawrence reports. There is a monk who sits by the pulpit and reads Bible passages or book excerpts about the lives of saints. Prayers are chanted before and after meals.

Lunch consists of fish, chicken, or turkey, with fresh or cooked vegetables, with lima beans and vegetable salad. No beef or pork is served. “When the cook is Vietnamese, we have stir-fried vegetables. Kung ako ang cook, gisado din,” he says. The monks usually have cheese and whole-wheat bread, which they bake themselves, or whatever is left over from the midday meal.

Watching television is discouraged, so the once-a-month DVD marathon (occurring every first Thursday at 7:10 p.m.) is something monks look forward to.

“We’re allowed to watch any movie as long as it’s not violent. No torrid kissing scenes and sexual scenes. No nude scenes or breast exposure. Even shots of men and women in underwear and swimming trunks are not allowed. That’s how conservative our community is,” says Dom Lawrence.

Despite living separate lives from the rest of the world, the monks stay updated on current events with free online subscriptions to leading US newspapers.

“Importante ang Internet connection sa buong cloister,” says this monk. “The whole community panics when there’s no Internet!” Almost every monk has a laptop. Dom Lawrence usually checks his e-mails any time between 7 a.m. and 7:10 p.m. every day, when the connection is available.

There’s a firewall that filters all inappropriate and malicious Websites, but Dom Lawrence gets to update his Friendster, Myspace, and Youtube accounts.

Keeping in touch
Away from the Philippines, Dom Lawrence follows local events through Websites of major TV stations and newspapers. “Updated ako sa lahat ng kaganapan, mula sa national news down to the provincial news, pati na rin sa celebrity news,” he says.

Like most Pinoys in the world’s “texting” capital, this monk also has a mobile phone, but he uses it only on errands like shopping for the community, bringing a brother to the doctor or the airport, or buying supplies for the monastery’s gift shop, which he runs.

Despite the rigidity of monastic life, it’s exciting, he says, because people in the outside world find it unusual.

In this Q&A with former Pinoycentric intern Marge Gonzales, this monk reveals more about his Internet activities (they do Friendster too!), his devotion not just to his mission but to his blog (and how time management helps a lot), and that a monk is human, after all.

Pinoycentric: When did you start blogging?
Dom Lawrence: I started bloggingin the early part of 2003 in Livejournal.com and later shifted to Blogger.com

You mentioned that you have a very tight schedule. How do you manage to blog?
I’ve given up some of my free private moments so I can update my blog regularly. Our daily prayers have 10- to 15-minute intervals, so instead of going to the kitchen, I go up to my room and blog. It’s really time management. When my posts are rather lengthy, I make the draft during the evening after compline [last prayers for the day] just before I sleep at 9 p.m. I save it in Word and the next day, shortly after the 7:10 a.m. Mass, I go online and simply copy and paste the draft I wrote the previous night.

Being a cloistered monk, you’re isolated from people outside the abbey. Doesn’t the Internet goes against the idea of isolation?
I still am cloistered and physically isolated from people because although they read my blog, they do not get to see me in person or hear my voice, hence the idea of being cloistered is still intact.

How does it feel when people read your site, leave comments, or even become your online friends?
It makes me feel connected with them in spirit, and in the end, I am able to make myself instrumental in their edification without having to show myself in person to them, or their hearing my voice, or talking to them face to face.

Are you allowed to chat or maintain social networking profiles (Multiply, Friendster, etc.)?
Not chatting, but Friendster is allowed, although I haven’t updated my Myspace or Youtube for almost half a year. My time is spent mostly on blogging.

Do you have any blogging limitations as a monk?
Actually noong bagu-bago pa lang ako nagba-blog ay pinagbawalan ako ng superior ko dahil siguro naisip niyang baka kung anu-ano na lang ang ipaglalalagay ko sa blog ko, compromising the community or putting it in a bad light. Pero nung nakita nilang puro reflections at homilies ang nilalagay ko ay okay na rin sa kanila.

Siyempre, hindi ko naman pwedeng i-blog ang away-away dito. Just like any other normal community of people of different thinking, lalo na sa community ko na iba-iba ang nationality, expected na talagang magkakaroon ng conflicts every now and then.

Minsan nga nag-blog ako ng isang post about something–nagalit ako–but I had to sanitize it and put the rest of the story in my other blog at ni-link ko na lang ito at Tinagalog ko talaga para hindi mabasa ng mga Amerikanong nagbabasa ng blog ko, lalo na ang mga kaparian, mga madre, at ibang monghe sa ibang congregations and monasteries.

Minsan makulit din ang utak ko eh. Pag may mga hinaing ako na gustung-gusto kong i-release ay talagang sinusulat ko pa rin at ipinapadaan ko na lang through a reflection or meditation at tinutugma ko ito sa readings of the day para hindi lalabas na nagra-rant ako. Pero hindi ko pwedeng i-pinpoint ang isang erring brother or bitchy monk or whatnot sa blog ko.

Do you think this new medium helps your mission?
Blogging helps me reach out to total strangers. In my site, for instance, one can find religious meditations and reflections as well as spiritual insights that inspire people and give meaning to their day-to-day encounter.

Alternative sources of spiritual inspiration linked to my blog by bloggers of different religious orders and congregations may give them interest too. If you take a closer look at their blogs, you’ll be surprised at how their blogs generate so much traffic every day.

Do you encourage other monks, priests, or nuns to blog?
Yes, if their tight schedules will allow them to do it.

What does the Catholic Church have to say about religious people who blog?
The Catholic Church has been so liberal about the religious who blog and has been very supportive of it. Even superiors of religious orders (monasteries) and congregations, both men and women, have their own blogs.

When do you get to come home to the Philippines?
We are allowed to go home every two years. Since I went home last year [2007], my next home visit will be in 2009. Monks are allowed to go home for anything urgent, such as a death in the family member or the serious illness of parents, so I was able to come home again in August 2007, when a family member passed away.

Does a monk have crushes too?
Siyempre, oo naman. Tao pa rin naman ako kahit consecrated na ang aking katawang lupa at kaluluwa at buong pagkatao para sa Diyos. Kaya nga ang tanging panlaban ko na lang pag umaatake ang ganyang klaseng passion sa isip at puso ko ay ang magdasal, magrosaryo ng nakadipa sa loob ng room ko, at ang maligo ng maligo umaga at hapon.

Sa monastic life ang kalaban ng isang monghe ay hindi ang kapaligiran niya kundi ang sarili niyang passions–passion for anger, passion for love, passion for sex, and passion for self- gratification. These are all stumbling blocks to a smooth and pious way of life for a monk. Kapag hindi malampasan at mapaglabanan ng isang monk ito ay asahan mong after some time ay tiyak na hindi siya makakatiis at lalabas siya to go back to the world where these passions that he cannot control can be freely achieved.

Kaya nga meron kaming stages of monastic formation sa mga bagong pasok. In order to attune them finally for only one passion–passion for God and nothing else–the process of monastic formation starts from postulancy of six months. One becomes a novitiate for a year, then three years in simple vows. If the monk, after these years of monastic formation and training, has proven himself to be worthy of becoming a permanent monk, then the community votes for him to be able to receive the final consecration of perpetual vows.

Do you have any message for your Filipino readers?
I am very delighted that among the different races who blog, the Filipinos all over the world have the most beautiful and interesting blogs (content wise), and have the most unique and distinct layout. I am very proud of Filipino bloggers. Keep blogging your thoughts, your aspirations, and your lives as they give inspiration to our own countrymen and to the whole world. Mabuhay tayong mga blagistang Pilipino!

To the Filipinos in general: Life is not that difficult if you will take the lead in accepting the challenges of life and making a name for yourselves in any venture you may have Mabuhay tayong mga Pilipino!

New York's Loss, Manila's Gain

 Pinoy chocolatier Raul Matias elevates Philippine flavors to world-class status with his unique creations, now proudly Manila-made. 

He left for the States a physical therapist. Eighteen years later, Raul Matias came home a chocolatier, bringing with him a chocolate brand that was slowly making its name in New York’s elite circles.

He called his chocolates Machiavelli, after his favorite author, Italian philosopher Niccolo Machiavelli. Bold like Machiavelli, Raul’s sweet selections are a fusion of European and Asian flavors, the strong taste of chocolate tempered by subtle flavors such as purple yam [ube], guava, jackfruit, coconut, and green tea.

Raul’s foray into chocolate making was serendipitous. In search of business opportunities online, he read of a woman who sold personalized chocolate bars. “All she did was wrap the Hershey’s bars. It was tacky! I thought, I could do this. Why not make my own chocolate?”

Through the online Ecole Chocolat, Raul was able to study chocolatier courses in Vancouver and France. Later he took advanced classes with a Belgian teacher in Florida and interned with several chocolatier stores in Connecticut, New York, and Orlando.

Pinoy chocolatier in New York
Shifting into chocolate making, he moved to New York. There he made chocolates at a rented commercial kitchen. His Eurasian-flavored creations such as Mango Lait, Jasmine Blossom, Ivoire Jack, and Purple Yam Yum were sold in gourmet stores or through private orders.

He found fulfillment in chocolate making, never mind if it took him hours to make. “I didn’t feel drained at all. I had classmates in chocolate school who were psychiatrists and orthopedic physicians who left their professions, and later on I understood why. There’s something magical about chocolate. It makes you happy, maybe because of all the chemicals that it gives out.”

Machiavelli in Manila
In 2008, after weighing his options carefully, Raul packed up and decided to come home to the Philippines. Too bad for New Yorkers, but lucky for us Manilans, we now have access to a world-class chocolate brand that’s made by a Pinoy chocolatier.

Sold exclusively through Rustan’s, Machiavelli is fast becoming a hit among Manilans, who have warmed up to the Yema de Manila and the Guava Asia.

In this exclusive tete-a-tete with Raul back in July 2009, he talks about making it in New York, coming home, and his bigger (Machiavellian?) plans of conquering the world as the first Pinoy chocolatier.

Pinoycentric: Why Machiavelli?
Raul Matias: I chose Machiavelli because it’s got substance and character, and the name is universal. It crosses boundaries. If I used my name and sold my chocolates abroad, people will say, “Who the hell [is this person]?”

As a Pinoy entrepreneur, it must have been difficult to penetrate New York.
It wasn’t easy. I came from Orlando and had just moved to New York, so my friend, a physician, drove me around Manhattan in his Mercedes-Benz to hand out samples to the gourmet stores. We were all dressed up because we didn’t want them to snub us.

How was the reception?
It was very good! A popular champagne brand hired me to make truffles for a wine-tasting event. I made some extra ube chocolate, which I let the owner taste. He liked it!

You already had your foot in the door. Why did you come back home?
I always knew I would come back. I loved the life here. Mas relaxed dito [It’s more laid-back here]. I don’t want to grow old in the US.

Also, I realized that while I could make money, I wouldn’t enjoy it kasi ako lahat [because I did everything]. I was making my chocolates in a commercial kitchen in Westchester County, with only an assistant. Thirteen hours, tuluy-tuloy, ang break ko, ihi lang [straight, with only a toilet break].

So what was the takeaway of the whole New York experience?
I enjoyed being independent and learning about the business culture, but I was never comfortable because a big part of me was Pinoy. I was never an American and didn’t feel like one. [In America], you have to be self-centered to survive, because ikaw lahat dun [you do everything there], to the point that you’ll forget yourself. You can’t help it. [It’s] that part I didn’t like.

Chocolate with guava and jackfruit . . . When do all these ideas come to you?
When I’m sleeping, because that’s when I’m relaxed, or when I’m in the car, driving. Even Martha Stewart said, “I think when I sleep.” It’s not when you want them; it’s when you’re relaxed [that the ideas come].

How do you keep your selections exciting?
I don’t want to be boring! I want to always reinvent my products because you have to keep up with other brands.

Also, part of me is Filipino, so I really infuse it in my creations. When people taste my chocolate, I want them to relate to me.

What’s the most challenging part about chocolate making?
I visualize it before I even make it. The hard part is living in a tropical country. I had to adjust some of my recipes because of the humidity. I’m glad I have a background in medicine. It comes in handy.

After New York and Manila, what’s next?
I want to bring Machiavelli to Asia–first to Singapore, Indonesia, and Malaysia. I want to show the world that Asians aren’t second-rate, that we can be as good and as intelligent as the rest. We can do it. This is our time.

Machiavelli Chocolates are available at Rustan’s Makati at at Rustan's Tower in Shangri-La Plaza Mall. Contact them at (+632) 483-9854.

Knocking on Death’s Door

Aida Bilog Sambat stares death in the face every day. As a hospice nurse in America, her work brings her to the beds of the terminally ill, those who are but a few steps away from death’s door.

Trained to care for the critically ill, hospice nurses are often seen as death angels—medical professionals who are tasked to end the life of a patient. But to Aida, who has held the hand of many a dying patient, a hospice nurse does more than prolong life or provide comfort to people during their final hours.

“Medical, surgical, and intensive care nurses help patients become well, [while] hospice nurses prepare patients for their journey beyond,” Aida writes in her book, From the Womb to the Tomb: Diary of a Hospice Nurse.

She’s seen some patients die alone and others with not a single cent to pay for their burial expenses. She’s helped relatives of the dying come to terms with death and most often weeps along with them for a patient that she has become fond of.

Had she known that she would be caring for dying patients in America, she probably would not have left her hometown, Katipunan, 14 kilometers away from Dipolog City. The experience turned out to be “an extraordinary privilege.”

“[As a hospice nurse], I had the opportunity to meet and care for many wonderful people during a different time in their lives, most often until the very end. It is hard to imagine the mindset one would have when they are facing their impending death until you see someone experience it firsthand.”

More than just a diary of a Filipino nurse who has made it big in America, From the Womb to the Tomb is Aida’s advocacy for the terminally ill.

“I feel there is a need for more public awareness when it comes to the needs of terminally ill patients. Death is a certainty, yet it is a topic that is less talked about. [For example,] many people incorrectly believe that pain medication like morphine hastens the death of the patient. Contrary to this belief, good pain management will prolong the life of a patient,” she says.

In her book, Aida takes us to the homes of her terminally ill patients, where she does more than give medication or get their vital signs. We’re privy to private conversations about life and dying. We smile when we read her playful banter with one patient, a former high-school principal who constantly quizzed her about history. She tells us of another patient, an Italian immigrant who hopes to hear from a long lost brother. We nod in agreement with another patient, once wealthy, who would realize that in the twilight of his life, all he had was a shoebox of memories.

Aida’s work doesn’t end when a patient is taken away by the funeral home. Once, she and several nurses offered to pool together their money for the cremation of a dead patient whose family could not afford to pay for it. Another time, Aida was tasked to break the news to a son that his mother only had a few days to live.
What Aida’s book tells us is something we all know but never wanted to talk about: that death is happiest for one who dies at home, where happy memories abound and where they are surrounded by loved ones, that the dying will embrace death when they have lived a full life with no regrets.

One of Aida’s patient sums it best: “Do anything you want to do now, because there’s no guarantee of a tomorrow.”

Keeping the Flame

For Fil-Am writer Carina Montoya, writing two historical books about Filipino immigrants in California was an attempt in knowing more about her father who died when she was seven

Her recently launched book, Los Angeles’s Historic Filipinotown, released by Arcadia Publishing, traces the history of one of California’s largest Filipino enclaves. Historic Filipinotown was where many Pinoy immigrants settled and put up businesses during the turn of the twentieth century.

“Getting to know my father through my books has enlightened me about so many things about the Filipino community. It lit a flame within me to preserve this history that I am very much a part of,” says Carina, a full-blooded Pinoy who was born and raised in the Hollywood area.

Carina’s father, Tommy, a native of General Trias, Cavite, served with the US Navy and settled in Los Angeles, where he found work in Hollywood as a waiter at the Don the Beachcomer, a Polynesian resto-bar that catered to the Hollywood film industry crowd.

Like many other Pinoys who pursued the American dream, Carina’s father had a hard time when he first arrived in the US.

“My father did not have any relatives in America. His friends became his family—they lived in groups, sharing food and money when times were bad,” Carina relates. He met and later married Carina’s mother Rose in San Francisco when she was visiting a brother who worked in the Alaskan fish canneries.

Later diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, Tommy became paralyzed from the neck down and had to be put in an iron lung at the Rancho Los Amigos in Downey, California. Rose was forced to find work to support an ill husband and two young children, Carina and her brother Eric.

“My mother took English and business classes, which resulted in her finding a job at Occidental life Insurance Company in downtown LA,” Carina relates. While she was not earning much, Rose managed to bring food to the table, pay rent, send her kids to private schools, and even afford music lessons.

When Carina’s father died, the family moved back to the Philippines, where they often traveled to see relatives in Ilocos Sur.

“There was no electricity, no indoor plumbing, and water was drawn from the well,” Carina recalls of this Philippine visit. “But the country was beautiful, and I will always remember the beautiful clear blue-green water and the fruit trees.” After a year in the Philippines, Rose decided to bring her kids back to the US as they often fell sick.

Discrimination
While researching for Filipinos in Hollywood, an earlier book, Carina realized that discrimination in fact existed, and Pinoy immigrants like her parents were victims of it.

“My brother and I never felt the effects discrimination and interracial marriage. Language barriers and identity confusion were never issues. We viewed ourselves as American and had no socialization problems,” Carina explains.

Now having come to terms with her Pinoy roots, Carina is working on several projects that, she hopes, “will keep Filipino history alive to pass on to future generations.”

Carina is happy to share that her kids are intent on understanding and preserving their Pinoy roots.

“My children’s cookbooks [with renowned artist/muralist Eliseo Art Silva as illustrator] are also an attempt to preserve our culture, identity, and heritage by passing on this information to future generations.  The cookbooks incorporate Filipino history and food, such as where adobo came from and its Spanish influence, and how it is made,” Carina relates.

Another of Carina’s projects is the Los Angeles Filipino Museum, which is housed in an original Victorian house purchased in the thirties by one of the city’s oldest Pinoy families. Located at the heart of Historic Filipinotown, the museum will display photographs dating back to the twenties when Filipino immigrants first settled in LA. The exhibit will also include prints of the first Filipino organizations founded in LA, among them the Filipino Federation of America, Philippine Women’s Club, Santa Maria Ilocos Sur Association, Pangasinan Association, and the Cebu Brotherhood.

With all of Carina’s efforts in preserving the Pinoy culture for the children of the diaspora, Tommy Montoya must be very proud.

Carina Montoya’s books Filipinos in Hollywood and Los Angeles’s Historic Filipinotown can be purchased at all Internet book stores, Barnes & Noble, Filipino American Library and at her Website.

First Person: Amoy-Amerika

By KC Ramirez

Last March, my older brother, who migrated to the US in 2005, gave my parents one of the most-awaited rewards of pouring their money into sending him abroad. For the entire week that we were expecting its arrival, I brazed the MRT rush and elbowed many mothers to get home as early as I could. It wasn’t sent to the house the day I was cheek-to-cheek with the train door. Nor did it show up the night I spent my last P100 on an MGE cab. It was yet another thing we should start keeping in mind about long-distance family affairs: The Balikbayan box never arrives on time.

In fact, it didn’t reach our doorstep for another week. And when it did, my mom misunderstood my SMS.

I keyed in, “Ma, na-open niyo na yung box? Malapit na ‘ko.” With a fierce game face and hips set into frantic motion, I was brisk-walking for my life toward home, and—well, I was just really excited.

When I finally made it to our living room, strips of silver packaging tape were already strewn over the floor, and my mom’s face was buried deep inside the box: she was reaching in for the last corned beef cans and Dove soap.

The first-ever opening-of-the-box ceremony commenced without me. We were supposed to open it together, but mother dear thought I said they could go ahead. Wha--?

I wish I had complained more but the imported goodies drove me to move on with life. The sofa and dining table showcased so many fluffy towels (that will have be embroidered with “Ramirez” very soon), a box of original sandwich-size Zip-Lock, a sleek Black  & Decker power drill, three big bags of Cadbury Crème Eggs, Bath & Body Works lotion bottles and a cleaning mop that comes with its own soap dispenser! Multicolored backpacks! Car tools! Vienna Sausage! Old Navy flip-flops!

And, oh, the smell of America… my mom, dad and our palaki, Tomas, found ourselves sniffing each and every item, savoring the aroma of “stateside”, picturing the best we could what it’s like in that other world.

My brother is now a registered nurse in the US. He left in December of 2005, taking his wife, who’s always mistaken as my real sibling, and my beloved nephew, who I’ll forever consider my panganay, away from us and into a brighter future. Before we drove them to the airport, my brother caressed the yellow walls of his house (which stood behind my parent’s) in between tears, and had a moment alone with the family car.

He took the CGFNS examination twice. He missed the first one by a point-something and nobody in the house ever talked about it. Between the two of us, he’s actually the moody one so we were always careful around him. To my friends, I fondly refer to my brother, who is 10 years older, as the girl in the family. We didn’t enjoy each other’s company until I was old enough that enjoying each other’s company required no effort anymore. Nevertheless, thank God we had our chance.

Despite being difficult, one good thing was that my brother always knew where he ought to go. In their house, they have their own study table, apart from my nephew’s little blue desk. My sister-in-law, by the way, is a pharmacist, so the two shared a passion for making it there. And they did, despite the months we spent looking out for Mr. LBC to deliver their Immigration papers. Everyone knew what to do the moment they arrived: Sign in behalf of my brother, do not open the envelope, place it on the piano and stare at it until it melted. I guess I should mention here that the consul assigned to them took so many vacation leaves their papers sulked in his office for nearly seven months. The validity of their medical tests almost expired.

Three weeks before Christmas that year, finally, the three left for the States. Without any luggage. They did, however, bring two Balikbayan boxes, each with its contents list, in case my Kuya and Ate forget where they had placed the few things they couldn’t let go of: Vincent’s Spiderman, Transformers and Toy Story figures, his Manchester United shirt from a cousin in London (also a nurse), Ate Camille’s bags and my dad’s winter jacket, which he used while building irrigation systems at the foot of the Himalayas and which was waaaaaay too small for my brother. For the record, when my Kuya wore it, he looked like Ben Stiller in Starsky & Hutch, constipated for the past 10 years. The complete set of Friends DVDs had to be left behind.

Days after they got to the US, they had already received their green card. Then it took them several months to fill the box to the rim. So long that the contents had become collectible, commemorative items: the shoes were bought at a sale in November, the watch was made available with a 50 percent discount when spring had come. The Nano accounted for a number of 16-hour shifts. The box itself was sent months delayed because their second baby, little Enzo, was born in October. Each piece already had their own story.

On with that night, I was trying my Chucks on andtinkering with the iPod Nano, which I would not buy by myself. My dad refused to wear his Kenneth Cole watch, except, he says, during really special occasions ( I vote never), and my mom kept busying herself with trivial concerns in the kitchen. Deep inside, she was just afraid that the Mossimo swimsuit would not fit.

When the excitement had subsided somewhat, I couldn’t help but caress the box myself. I thought, “Vincy helped packed this, Ate Camille and my Kuya took pains to seal this part…” It was overly sentimental, but it was as close to them as we’ll ever be, at least for the next two years.

In the days that followed, my parents had to endure well-meant jesting from relatives, such as, “Wow, katas ng ‘Merika,” and, “Uy! First blood!” Corny, tacky, but true. Surprisingly, however, we couldn’t be prouder. And it provided us with so much more.

Sometimes I feel like I’m their parent, too. I feel scared and anxious how they will do after a sheltered life here, how their new world would suit them, and how much they would change.

When the box arrived, we felt freed from worry. Who would have thought that the balikbayan box, which is decreasing in size, by the way, could grant us the assurance we have been waiting for since they left?

It meant they’re gradually making it there.