The Language

I have been confused these past years. I was literally at loss for words. I have been swayed like a shrimp in the sea, tossed here and there with the different languages that I’ve heard and mastered. Then the ultimate question came one day… what is my heart’s language? I mean the heart language that I can communicate with the intimacy as well as respect to one dear being, to God. As a child, I’ve prayed in Chinese. So my Chinese prayers have terms that define my reverence and submissive spirit.  It would seem that I have inherited the formality of prayer in the Chinese language. Then I started feeling comfortable with a bit of Filipino in my prayers and Bible reading as a young adult.  Filipino is the language that I used to converse, it is a “street” language where I can easily express the joy and sorrow in my heart. It is the language that I speak and joke around with my good friends. So addressing God in Filipino is using a language that seems to express the vulnerability of my heart. Then I switched to English when I moved abroad. It is the language that I read with and compose with the most. It was in schools and academic writing that I’ve fluently mastered this language.

Now in the prime of my life, few days before I reach the 40 status quo, I am still learning another language that would eventually shape my identity.  I do feel that I’m in this cocoon where I will emerge, although, it does escape me as to what I will become. Yet the search remained crucial: how do I speak my heart to God?  My greatest consolation is that, God will understand the slightest sigh that I’ve made in any languages.

The Riddle of Love

 This week the riddle of love began. It started out at the beginning of February when Ahmad celebrated his birthday. Our friends gave him a surprise party. Oh, what a surprise it was for him, to have his friends and family surround him on his birthday. I’m pretty sure he felt special. He was speechless for a minute or two. Unlike me, birthdays in Ahmad’s family is not a big deal. Some years, it just passed without the celebrant noticing that it’s his birthday. Even his mother does not remember any of her children’s birthday nor her own birthday. Understandably, there is no calendar for her to go by.  

Then the ripple of love goes on. Ahmad called me on Sunday morning, checking out with me if we could visit his nephew that night. It was his birthday after all. So, we visited his nephew on his 27^th birthday. We brought a special dinner of grilled chicken, meat and kebab! We had some yogurt and eggplant salad. We brought the sweets “Kinafa” instead of a cake for a contextualized party. Most of all we spend some leisure time with him and his family.

 Every year, I wanted a special birthday too… not necessarily a party. Just the feeling of being loved and thought of on that certain day called a birthday. Of course, I was miserable in my expectations in the early years of our marriage. It was not normal for him to remember. So he made sure that it was in his cellphone reminder.

So  this song just kept playing it’s happy tune in my heart. It goes like, “Show it, share it and give it away. Love will come back to surprise you someday. ‘Cause the love that you give always goes while it’s gone. And the riddle of love goes on and on.”