Posted in deconstruction

Seven Years Post Baptism

Posted on by Rachel

Today is May 10.

When I was 16, I fell in love with Jesus. I got baptized on May 10 and it was the best day of my life.

Or atleast I convinced myself it was the best day, even though when my Mom and I got home, Dad screamed because Mom bought chicken for dinner before the sunset was over.

(Research about Jews and Sabbath and sunsets if you don’t know what this all means.)

He got angry and grabbed his mug which signifies he was going to drink water before going to bed. And he went upstairs without a word, leaving us with a roasted chicken who was dead enough to say something.

I tried to make the best out of the situation by not letting anything bother me because it was my “best day ever.”

I thought “nothing could take away my joy now.”

I felt loved and rescued. I even cried on the spot while the pastor prayed for me. My kindergarten teacher asked me why I was crying.

I wanted to tell her that I watched porn and was so dirty and disgusted with myself to the point where I convinced myself I have to be splashed in water to be washed clean.

But I just smiled through the tears.

If you only knew.

That night, a guy claiming to be the leader of a youth program messaged me and asked for my number.

I was so excited because I thought he was going to invite me to youth group activities and then I’ll gain some Christian friends.

What happened the next morning horrified me, as he sent multiple texts, inviting me to go to church with him at night. When I said no, he kept pushing further. He told me I was beautiful and he wanted to meet me at school.

I was 16. He was 26.

Every morning I got a text from him.

“I’m going to your school.”

Sometimes this is what he said. Anxiety would feel me and I would go around the campus with my head down and my heart feared what would happen in case he found me.

Eventually, I changed number and it stopped. I also blocked him on Facebook.

Those were some of the memories I got from my baptism. Aside from the relief I felt when I came up for air.

Was it all my imagination? Or was the feeling of relief and cleanliness a true message from God?

Who would have thought, Rachel the nice Christian girl is now a feminist bitch who supports the LGBTQ community and premarital sex? She breaks the Sabbath too and doesn’t care if her food has pork in it.

I haven’t been to church in a year. I wonder how they will react if they knew how I think.

Maybe they will pray for me because I’ve been led astray. Maybe they will be so sad that I’m on my way to hell.

They’d gossip in those voices that scream she’s a pity and we’re better than her.

I think the older men in church will blame my boyfriend for all of this. As if he led me astray, which of course he did not. When I announced my change of beliefs he even asked me if I was sure.

Seven years later, I’m not the nice Christian girl anymore. Or maybe I was never truly nice.

I was just pretending.

I wanted people in church to like me since I don’t fit in the outside world anyway. I might as well try everything I can to fit in, inside the church.

And so I did. Oh, I did.

I earn compliments and praises for my prayers and participation. I earned approving looks for my modest attire every Saturday. They all told me I was different from the rest. I thought I was holier than all the youth combined because I already read the whole Bible and they didn’t.

And I basked in the compliments until I remember I’m not supposed to like this, I’m supposed to be humble. Then begins the cycle of shame, humiliation and constant mantra of “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

I feel like that was my mantra for years:

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

Shame and humiliation. I don’t feel it anymore to the extent where it would drive me to my knees in tears. I feel twinges of it sometimes and out of habit I apologize to God.

But most of the time, I feel like I’ve been set free from all the burden of rules and regulations.

I can now watch porn freely without remorse. Watch movies or clean my room on the Sabbath without guilt. Eat pizza or carbonara pasta topped with ham, without feeling the need to fast after.

I hate to admit it, but the people who told me we were too restrictive were right.

I’ve been fooled, without a choice in the matter.

Seven years ago, I thought officially baptizing into a religion I was raised in, would set me free.

Seven years later, what set me free was letting go of the religion I was raised in.

My chains are gone, I’ve been set free.

Posted in Rachel's Journal 🌼

Thoughts at the Mall

Posted on by Rachel

3:30 p.m.

I am sitting at a salon waiting for my mother to get her eyebrows done, as I contemplate about how much money I spent on Booksale after I promised myself I’ll only buy the ones on sale for 20 pesos. OF COURSE I ended up spending much more than that. How much? I won’t tell.

In front of me sits a lady probably in her seventies, getting her haircut done by a short man with highlights on his hair, who moved in a businesslike manner intent on getting the job done.

The old lady is wearing something vaguely familiar. I try to squint and recall where I’d seen it. `Til it dawned on me and I cringed.

I use to wear the same blouse once a week to school during freshman year in college!!

I mean what on earth was I thinking?! Good thing I gave that blouse away years ago. Ughhh

Once, a friend jokingly said I had an old woman’s style and now I literally see why she would say that.

My reasons of course for my “old” fashion sense was this:

I once read that in order to hide your ungodly huge boobs you have to wear prints and patterns. So prints and patterns I scoured through every department store I landed on. Even if it meant devouring the ancient women’s section which consisted of floral patterns.

I didn’t get to enjoy a decent t-shirt starting at the age of 15 when I discovered that 99% percent of the time, boys are perverts whose eyes laser on huge boobs when they see one.

I used to cry myself to sleep when I recall seeing a boy staring at my chest or hear a stupid secret code they whisper when they see your basketballs bounce.

That time I was still a devoted Christian, believing in a church who teaches that women are responsible for men’s uncontrollable lust. So if boys are staring at you mischievously, it’s probably your fault. And you should cover up.

But Lord, how can I cover up these ridiculous amount of saggy fat plopped on my chest?????

I apologized profusely to God for having boobs in the first place.

But then God, you made me right? So you made these too? I thought.

If God made my body fearfully and wonderfully, why did I treat it like a sinful part of me?

Why was I shamed by the church for having a body?

Sixty percent of the time nowadays, I don’t care. Because my once padlocked mind has been opened. It blossoms with the realization that these things are just fats with nipples on top. There’s nothing special about it, really. And boys have probably seen a million porn videos that the familiarity of how boobs look like are deeply ingrained in their brains.

Mine would eventually get carried away in the sea of boobie images they have garnered in the corners of their minds.

Today, I am wearing a black v-neck with holes you can probably see through. But I am wearing a huge black sports bra that covers half of my torso. So I’m good.

My cleavage shows time to time and I still catch glimpses from men, but no guilt forms within me this time. Which is good news.

Maybe today is a good day.

Or maybe because I have fooled myself by thinking that any boy who stares at my chest, have actually a tiny one down there. For sure, if they knew I thought that, it would hurt their massive ego. So it feels great to think about it.

4:01 pm

I am sitting waiting for my Mom as she orders at KFC. I have grocery plastic bags surrounding me, reminding me of my adolescent years spent accompanying my Mom to the grocery whilst worrying what my Dad should have for dinner.

My Dad makes everything hard. For some reason he took a nazirite vow which means he can’t eat anything with vinegar which involves ketchup, mustard, etc.

Which means when Mom orders, say for example, burgers she has to specifically tell the cashiers about not putting any ketchup on it. Just patty and cheese. Most of the time they get it wrong, and Dad throws the burgers while yelling, “Damn!”

So you see, I had a lot to worry as a teenager. I worried for a man in his fifties as a teenager because of his moods. And that was just the food area concerned. Maybe someday I can elaborate more about the other areas.

While my peers were out having dates or going to the movies, I was stuck carrying approximately 2 plastic bags in each hand, with worry looming over my head about my Dad’s picky appetite.

In the midst of it all, I’d have a tug of war fight with my Mom who would discreetly pluck away the groceries in my hands, as she scolds me that I have scoliosis and shouldn’t be carrying them. But I held on to the bags for dear life, as we cross sun-filled streets and waited for a jeepney that passed only once in every 15 minutes.

My pleasure would consist of taking the favorite spot which is on the exit side of the jeep, putting my earphones on and blasting music, while imagining that I was out on a date or with friends or that I was a cool girl and everybody wanted to hang out with me.

What’s changed now, is well almost everything.

  • This is one of those rare moments that my Mom goes to the groceries with me.
  • I don’t worry about my Dad’s picky appetite anymore.
  • I’ve been on multiple dates with my boyfriend, sometimes hang out with friends and
  • I’m a cool girl… (nope not there yet, with the cool part.)

5:00 p.m.

We took the taxi home with a driver who thought he was in a Fast & The Furious Movie.

Who should I pay to have his guts when I go driving?

As soon as my butt hit the upholstered seat and put the groceries on the taxi car floors. I quickly pulled out my earphones to listen to Sinead O’Connor sing her heart out in “Nothing Compares to You.” At the same time the driver thought it was a good idea to crank up his music and start to sing a little bit.

Was he trying to spite me?

I cranked my volume too and relaxed while Sinead sang over me.

We got home in 20 minutes thanks to his speedy drive.

Right now, I am lying in my bed half naked, writing this and wanting to doze off, with thoughts of listening to Sinead again undisturbed and I think I’ll do just that.

Posted in Career Journey - Ups & Downs

Building Up A Career

Posted on by Rachel

I made a mistake of telling my Mom that my friend finally quit her stressful job at a local office and found a BPO place to work in.

It was mistake because I know, she secretly wished that for me too.

I know she wishes I work in a prestigious bank. Then she’ll tell all of her friends and strangers too even if they didn’t ask.

I know she’ll be so proud of me if that was the case.

Instead, when her friends or people ask me what I do she doesn’t know how to tell them her daughter is unemployed and spends her time designing products no one buys.

She keeps silent, like she wishes the ground will swallow her up. She looks at me with those eyes that seems to say, “You’re on your own now. Explain to us what you do because I don’t understand either.”

Even my boyfriend’s parents are quick to come up with an answer for me so I don’t have to. Before I even open my mouth, they’re quick to say, “She used to work in an office,” when their friends ask.

Which translates to, “She’s not working now, but she used to. And don’t ask what she’s doing now because we don’t know either but it doesn’t matter because she used to be employed. And maybe you can overlook that and okay, let’s talk about something else.”

And I don’t blame them really.

Because I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

All I know is I like what I do. Even if I don’t earn much.

When I was a little girl, my Mom used to love bringing me to the bank. As we waited in the large crisp chairs, she’d tell me, “Someday you’ll work here.” As if handing me a precious gift, she’d point to the bank tellers and whisper how nice they looked and that one day I’ll be like them too.

My little mind would agree and think, yes, I’d like that. Even though I felt uncomfortable in a place such as a nice bank —where everyone looked neat and tidy, while my hair was unruly, my posture unheard of and my shoes, dirty.

I didn’t realize until I was 21 that this precious gift of a dream she handed to me, was hers and not mine.

I used to spend my free time in highschool inside the library reading books on Psychology. It amazed me that it can explain people’s behavior.

That was the first time I learned that there is a reason for why people act the way they do. I’d flipped the pages and think about our former Ms. Highschool who’s off to a well-known school in Manila studying Psychology.

Or about my churchmate who wanted to take this course but her Dad said that it didn’t make a lot of money. And my Mom told me that she agreed.

I closed the book and thought, this isn’t for me. I’d stick to accounting like everyone else in my family. I’d work in a bank and make my Mom proud.

That was 16 year old me. I wonder what she’d do if she met me now.

I think she’ll probably rethink her career decisions and go for that one thing she really wanted.

In college, I spent my free time googling business ideas, because I needed the money to buy new clothes after realizing a classmate was keeping track of my clothes and fashion sense. I didn’t know there was a thing such as a thrift shop, back then.

That was when I fell in love with the enormous idea of selling things or designing, etc. I also fell in to this make-money-through-blogging phase. But that didn’t work out pretty well. The business idea stuck with me like a gum though.

The possibility of making your own money by doing your own thing?? Outrageous!

I like it!

I never fell in love with accounting but I didn’t hate it either. I felt bored and indifferent toward it. I didn’t relate to my classmates and teachers in terms of brain wavelenght and personality.

They were all……… competitive and so brainy. It seemed as if they were all trying to prove who the smartest one was or who could do solve this or blah blah blah.

Nobody dared to ask me for help during homework or before quizzes.

Maybe it was so obvious I didn’t give a damn.

I’d take a quiz or an exam and forget about what it was all about within 10 seconds after I passed my paper. Meanwhile my classmates with panicked voices would discuss the questions and analyze and worry, while I stand by listening and waiting for them to move so we can have lunch or snacks. Sometimes I want to snort out loud and shout, “Get over it!”

While they worry about their scores, my mind wandered far away. I didn’t care. At all.

(Okay, I cared a little bit. I just wanted to pass. That’s all.)

It didn’t make me feel alive or purposeful as something you love doing should.

I know I have second chances in education. I mean I can always go back to school or learn online, but there are moments when I wish I could go back.

I’d do it all over again. I wouldn’t be so afraid to make my own decisions.

I was reading a book today, Meet Me At Midnight, and the main character Asher says this to his Dad about his career choice:

“I’d rather try for that and fail than go for a sure thing that I’m never going to care about.”

So this is me. Trying for this thing, setting up a small business taking it one step at a time. I’m doing this, instead of the sure thing that is working in an office and not giving a shit each day.

I know, I know. It’s not practical. How’s it gonna be 10 years from now, when I don’t have savings, insurance, investments and all that?

Will I live on the streets? Or beg for scraps of food? What will become of me?

These thoughts haunt me in the middle of the night, but surprisingly I’m up for the challenge. Because who’s to say I’m still going to be here 10 years from now.

What I’m sure of, is I’m given today. So I’ll make the most of it. By doing what matters most to me.

Posted in Books - Reflections, Reviews and Thoughts

The Unwritten Rule by Elizabeth Scott

Posted on by Rachel

**Warning: May contain spoilers.**

I finished this book at one am on a Saturday. It’s the kind of book that makes you want to turn the page over and over to find out what happens.

The Plot

Everyone knows the unwritten rule: You don’t like your best friend’s boyfriend.

Sarah has had a crush on Ryan for years. He’s easy to talk to, supersmart, and totally gets her. Lately it even seems like he’s paying extra attention to her. Everything would be perfect except for two things: Ryan is Brianna’s boyfriend, and Brianna is Sarah’s best friend.

Sarah forces herself to avoid Ryan and tries to convince herself not to like him. She feels so guilty for wanting him, and the last thing she wants is to hurt her best friend. But when she’s thrown together with Ryan one night, something happens. It’s wonderful… and awful.

Sarah is torn apart by guilt, but what she feels is nothing short of addiction, and she can’t stop herself from wanting more…

–From Goodreads

Reflections

When I was 12, I liked my best friend’s, what should I call him? They were texting and certainly had something special going on.

But he said he liked me, at first. So I was shocked to find out he was texting my best friend instead.

I remember sitting beside my best friend at a pizza place and listening to her talk about them that I felt my hands go clammy while I shove delicious slices in my mouth.

Thankfully, we graduated soon after. And all was forgotten. I was just 12 anyway and it was nothing serious.

It wasn’t the same with what Sarah felt for Ryan. But it made me reminisce of my own experience.

I love reading stories like this, because it always reminds me that there are two sides to every story; that there is a reason for people’s choices. Or that maybe it’s much deeper than what is on the surface.

Brianna was certainly a toxic friend for Sarah. I like the part where Sarah’s Mom mentioned that she feels Brianna isn’t such a good friend to her. And Sarah defended her.

I had similar experiences where my Mom would notice toxic traits from my friends that I ignored. I defended them. Then years after, I realized she was right all along.

It’s the same with Sarah. It took her long enough to realize who Brianna really is. (Though I can’t blame Brianna because of her toxic parents.)

Ryan liked Sarah first. He liked her all along. If Sarah had the courage to assert what she wants and be confident in who she is, then maybe none of the troubles would have happened.

That’s one of the lessons I learned from the book. Recognizing your own value.

I also liked this quote:

Sometimes love can be messy. But it’s still love. Not all of us get to experience a clean, smooth and perfect love.

Love is love, no matter what it looks like. And sometimes you have to let friends go no matter how much they mean to you.

I also made a playlist based on the book.

Posted in Rachel's Journal 🌼

Happy Anniversary

Posted on by Rachel

Dear Hermes,

First of all, thank you for reading my blog posts. You deserve a whole post for that, so here it goes!

I remember the first time I saw you. I was sixteen and you were seventeen. It was at a Computer Quiz during the University games. You were sitting directly in front of me. You had dark black hair in a slicked back style and rings on your fingers. I thought you were attractive.

I was stressed and nervous that time, in contrast, you were smiling and laughing with your teammates. Annoyance started to build up in me, “How could he be so cool about this?” I thought to myself. Here he is being cute and having fun when they get the wrong answers meanwhile my stomach would churn everytime the quiz master shouted “WRONG!” at us.

I never realized you saw me during the contest, but you told me that was the first time you saw me too. And you said I looked beautiful. Though I can’t imagine how. My hair was short and curly, it looked like a bird’s nest on my head.

In those days, we were both pining away for people who didn’t give us a chance, who never liked us back.

I was seventeen when I saw you again. My hair was longer now and I was a freshman in college. I’d see you in the hallways, or around the campus while going to class and you would look at me. No, not look but STARE. Your eyes would go wide and your lips would form in a small smile. It was as if you wanted to say something. (And now you keep telling me it was all my imagination but I beg to differ! 🤪)

I felt smug everytime I saw you. “Who is this guy? And why is he staring at me like that?” Months passed when I realized that you were actually really good-looking.

I started to see you in a new light. I kept wanting to catch a glimpse of you everyday. Whenever you were near, I’d get nervous and happy at the same time. I wanted to get to know you, maybe be your friend. When we crossed paths, I willed myself to smile but I couldn’t because the butterflies were overpowering me. I was so shy!

There was this one time, at the half-moon drive, you were right in front of me buying siomai. I mustered the courage to get up and talk to you but you walked so fast I couldn’t catch up. I thought I lost my chance to be your friend.

But then I stopped and thought, “What am I thinking? I don’t go up to boys, especially boys I liked and talk to them.”

One day, I was sitting on a bench when you passed by looking annoyed while talking to your friend beside you. Then you turned to glance at me. And I thought, “Wow he looks hot.”

I was mortified with myself. Hot?? I never thought of guys before as “hot.”

I realized then that I really, really like you.

Fast forward to the glorious day you added me on Facebook. And! I had to wait a day before accepting it as to not look desperate. 😁

You messaged me and that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship turned into a relationship.

On our first date, I was so nervous I couldn’t even eat properly. I was finally sitting with a boy. A boy I liked so much and he’s even better than my imagination. I didn’t care if you liked me back or not, I was more than content to just be your friend.

Hermes, you became the best friend I ever had. You were my first date, the one who held my hand because he wanted to (not forced like in those school dances), the guy not afraid to hug me in front of everybody, my first dance, the first one to give me a bouquet of roses, the first to kiss my cheeks and years later, my lips.

So many firsts.

I feel extra special that I’m your first girlfriend.

You chose to stay with me even when I was delusional about wanting my first kiss to be at the wedding and such. You didn’t ran away. You waited for me. You never forced me and when I said I wanted a kiss, you even asked if I was sure.

There was one guy in college who abruptly told me, “You’ll never have a boyfriend because you’re….” And he never finished the sentence. But I was mortified. “Am I really that horrible?” I thought.

Then you came along and proved him wrong. You respected me in a way I never thought was possible. You’re the first guy and probably the only one who has never mocked or teased me in a degrading way. Boys were always making fun of me for my voice or my innocence and quirkiness. Rather, you loved all this about me.

For the first time, I gained security that I could be myself and you would still love me.

You’re the first person to tell me I am strong and wise. I’ve never been called that before. You recognized that beneath this weak exterior was a strength that people never knew about me, because they don’t know what I’ve been through. But you do.

Because I tell you everything. I feel safe to talk to you.

You always make me feel safe, warm and fuzzy inside.

You were the kindest boy I’ve ever met. And now you’ve grown into a man. You are sweet, gentle, funny, laid-back and carefree, hot and handsome.

Remember that time we were in the karaoke? I’ve never sang in front of anyone before. Even though I sounded like a dying cat, you still encouraged me to sing.

You were sitting beside me looking for songs, and I was staring at you. You looked incredibly handsome and you were so kind. I thought my heart was going to burst and I needed to show you, how much I cared and loved you. So I leaned in and kissed your cheek.

I was battling with anxiety in those days and every day I thought it may be my last, and I didn’t want to go without telling you how I felt. You already told me you loved me but I didn’t respond.

Weeks after I whispered the words, “I’m in love with you.” But I felt it wasn’t enough.

Months passed, we were standing beside Supermart Mandurriao, waiting for a jeep to get me home. It was crowded and full of pollution. Not exactly a scenic spot but I had this incredible urge inside of my heart to say it.

I love you.

And you smiled. Yes you had won my heart.

My dearest Hermes, I love you more and more each day. I wish I can be by your side always. I wish I can let you feel all my love for you every single day.

I want to make you happy. I want to see that handsome smile and hear that wondrous laugh of yours.

I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

I never thought I could feel this way. You’re my best friend and boyfriend all wrapped up in one. How lucky could I get?

Two years ago, at our favorite restaurant, you whispered the words that melted my heart.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

I wish I didn’t let logic ruin my moment. All I could think was our plan for it to be after graduation. I was totally caught offguard. I thought for a minute and what the heck of course I wanted to be your girlfriend! I wanted it to be official!

So I answered.

“Yes.”

Here’s to happy two years of love.

Two years??? You might say.

Because we know better. We’ve been in love for almost five years now.

I love you and only you.

You always said I saved you, but the truth is you saved me too Hermes. I found someone I can be myself with. I found love and genuine friendship.

Thank you for everything. You made me feel alive again. I’ve always felt alone but now I don’t. I have you.

You are my home.

I love you.

With hugs and kisses,

Rachel

Posted in Rachel's Journal 🌼

A Sunday Afternoon Under the Mango Tree

Posted on by Rachel

Under the mango tree, I stood while my mother sat on a worn out plastic chair. I quietly splattered hair dye around her greying locks. While I worked in silence, she chattered endlessly about trivial matters, jumping from one topic to another. I stared at her brown skin revealing the fact that throughout the years, the sun had not been tender towards it.

I realized that my mother is growing old and no amount of hair dye could hide that. In silent reverie, I made an unconscious promise to be kind to her.

The wind intensely and gently blew around. It was as if she was reminding us, that though she is kind she can be fierce too.

Our dogs, Susie and Viola came to join us after awhile. And when all was finished, the ambience felt light and comfortable.

I reveled in the wind, the trees, the chirping of the birds, the sun casting bright lights and at our dogs looking so adorable.

While walking around, I saw what yesterday’s wind had done to our trees.

I also took a selfie with our pandikaki plant and thank God I was not bitten by this tiny creature. (see below)

Also! Indian mangoes are back in season! I’m hoping to eat some in the coming days.

In conclusion, it was a pleasant afternoon that I rarely experience. Emma is at her grandparents’ house so I get to have a little peace and quiet today. I do miss her though.

I just want to capture this moment in a blog post since I seldom spend time outside these days.

Posted in deconstruction

I just have to sit through this

Posted on by Rachel

I used to think I was right about everything related to faith and belief.

My parents said so.

My church said so.

But now, I don’t think so.

Everything I hear that is related to the Bible or Christianity, I now take it with a grain of salt. It’s like I have developed this wall of protection around me. I don’t want to be led blindly anymore.

My sister in law now lives at our house and she joins our Bible reading during Saturdays. I’ve noticed that my Dad is beginning to teach her everything he knows just the way he used to teach us at first.

And now it’s like I get to listen to it once again but not from a vulnerable girl’s point of view, but from a perspective of a woman who has been lied to, throughout the years.

It’s hard to admit that I don’t take everything he says as truth anymore. Sometimes what he teaches makes makes sense, but other times I see it for what it is: a blind faith. A plot to make you feel guilty for believing otherwise. A plan to unconsciously hurt you in the long run.

I find it unbearable to sit through those Bible discussions because it reminds me of all the things I’ve missed out on and the trauma that this false religion has given me.

I try to shut down several times and build a wall so high that everything I hear, I now deflect. I do admit sometimes it sounds stupid. Everything just sounds weird and stupid. I don’t want to be forced to believe in a lie anymore.

Maybe it will get easier someday but for now I just have to sit through every Saturday afternoon’s fiasco.

Posted in Earth Psalms Reflection

Week Three: Variety in Creation

Posted on by Rachel

This week is all about observing and appreciating the differences of the people around you.

I learned that there are 7,500 kinds of apples in the world! I never knew that before. I have only tasted the Red Delicious and Fuji. After reading the chapter, I looked inside the fridge for an apple and ate it with delight while contemplating about the different kinds.

Throughout the week, I also thought about my family and friends. I pondered upon their different characteristics and was even amused to remember their good and bad traits, as well as their quirks and habits.

It blew my mind just thinking about how no one is exactly alike in every single way. If I deeply ingrain that fact in my mind, it makes me respect God more. I also gain a sense of appreciation for myself because I am the one and only in this whole wide world!

In what ways do you think our culture encourages sameness?

In terms of beauty, body and personality, the media and society itself have set the standard of what is deemed as “acceptable” and “beautiful.” We see billboards that promote the same body type and sends a message of what we should all strive to look like.

It wasn’t until last year, that I learned there are different body types such as the apple shape, pear shape, inverted triangle and many more! This made me realize that I shouldn’t try to look like someone else but rather to appreciate my own features and body. We are all different in varied ways.

There’s also different personality types. You can learn more about your personality by taking the Myers-Briggs Personality Test Online.

And even with these categorizations of body types, personality, hair, facial features, and whatnots, there’s still a huge amount of uniqueness that each one possesses.

How does variety in appearance, attitudes, talents and personality reflect God’s character?

We find a little bit of God in ourselves and in every person that we meet. I think that’s amazing.

I’ve been watching the reality show, Pinoy Big Brother, wherein several people with different backgrounds, age and personalities all live in one house while undergoing a series of tasks. It’s been a fun show and it made me realize the variety of characteristics in each one of them. Their stories and personalities also make them unique.

There is so much variety not just in people, but also in nature and I am filled with gratitude that God made it that way.

Posted in Earth Psalms Reflection

Week Two: Prayer Leads to Peace

Posted on by Rachel

This week was all about cultivating a sense of peace by trusting that God will care for us.

The author compared our “worries” to an annoying woodpecker she encountered in her home. This spiked up my interest as to why these birds love to peck on wood. Here’s a video clip I found:

What worries are keeping you from God’s peace?

Lately, I’ve been worrying about my status in life. I also worry about my time each day. I want to make each moment worthwhile. I also want to earn money through my online shops but motivation is so hard to find these days.

I guess my worry is mainly about how I’m going to make it in this world.

The two challenges this week is to (1) spend time outside or look outside the window and observe how God cares for nature (2) repeat Philippians 4:6-7 when worry comes through.

I wasn’t able to spend a lot of time outside this week because I’ve been caring for my 10 month old niece, Emma. However, on a cloudy day, I saw birds flying around the sky while it was drizzling. It made me think of what happens to the birds when it rains. Here’s a short explanation:

Where do Birds go When it Rains?

This Friday, my sense of peace was shaken when Emma’s bottle of milk was spilled all over her parent’s bed. I had to move fast to dry up everything, while my niece was crying for attention.

I was about to burst and blame myself for not checking her bottle, but then I remembered to stay calm and be at peace. I asked God for help. And quickly managed the time I had, to clean Emma, change her clothes and wash them, dry up the bed and change the bedsheets. All under one hour.

It was a challenging task but one I enjoyed because I chose to have peace and stay calm.

All throughout the week, I would repeat Philippians 4:6-7 to myself whenever worries come crashing in.

I wish I can tell you it stopped all my worries, but it didn’t. They’re still here like a woodpecker pecking on the corners of my mind. But this week, I gained hope knowing that God can give us peace.

I like this quote mentioned in the book:

Worry is like a rocking chair: it gives you something to do but never gets you anywhere.

Erma Bombeck

I guess it is a matter of choice. Will we choose to spend our time worrying? Or will we choose to be present in the moment and make the most of what we have?

One thing I failed to do this week, is to pray about everything that’s inside my heart and mind. Definitely something I will work on in the coming days.

Playlist for Earth Psalms: