Hope and Promise

"For the mountains shall depart

And the hills be removed,

But My kindness shall not depart from you,

Nor shall My covenant of peace be removed,”

Says the Lord, who has mercy on you.

- Isaiah 54:10

Every new year is an opportunity to start all over again... A fresh start on a clean slate, as it were.

I see the wisdom of our heavenly Father in creating the seasons. Our life on earth runs on chronos time - sixty minutes, twenty-four hours, one day, one week, one month, one year... 

And each ending provides a closure, and a new beginning.

We do not need to live imprisoned in our past mistakes, failures, or poor choices. Each day the sun rises God's mercies are new, and His compassions never fail. That is the promise contained in His word.

Each new beginning is accompanied by a fresh word from the Father. He is always speaking life to us... breathing life.

So I grab this opportunity to close the door to my past fears and anxieties which burdened me in 2018, and go through the open door of 2019 with all its promises.

It is so refreshing that the rains have been gently falling ever since I arrived here in Metro Manila last Friday. It was raining in Bacolod City as well when I left.

To me, the gently falling rain is a beautiful harbinger of hope and promise.

There are two kinds of rains that every farmer hopes for: the early spring rains, and the latter autumn rains. Rains for the planting season, and rains for the harvest season.

I am looking at the rains as God-sent moisture to water the seeds of hope and promise being planted in my heart as 2019 begins.

Luke 1:45 goes this way: Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfil His promises to her.

What a timely word! 

Hope and promise. 

I had felt in my heart as the year was ending that these were the two words God was giving me for the coming year. The Luke 1:45 passage seals it. 

The following verses are worth meditating on:

Surely none who wait for You will be put to shame; 

- Psalm 25:3

It is just as the Scripture says: 

"Anyone who believes in Him will never be put to shame.” 

- Romans 10:11

The new year has begun, and I am standing at the threshold of an open door. It is a new beginning.

Obedient One and I celebrated the year start with a sumptuous lunch at NIU at The Podium. I purposely requested her that we start the year with a feast. And indeed we feasted to our heart's content and delight.

It is a prophetic picture of all that Abba Father is preparing for me and my family this year.

So I receive all that God has prepared for me for 2019. 

"For the mountains shall depart

And the hills be removed,

But My kindness shall not depart from you,

Nor shall My covenant of peace be removed,”

Says the Lord, who has mercy on you.

- Isaiah 54:10

Giving Thanks: A Divine Exchange

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Do all things without complaining and disputing,
 that you may become blameless and harmless, 
children of God  without fault in the midst of a crooked 
and perverse generation, among whom you shine 
as lights in the world, holding fast the word of life, 
so that I may rejoice in the day of Christ 
that I have not run in vain or labored in vain.

- Philippians 2:14-16

...To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,

And the day of vengeance of our God;

To comfort all who mourn,

To console those who mourn in Zion,

To give them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;

That they may be called trees of righteousness,

The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified...

- Isaiah 61:2-3

I began this year 2018 on a high note—the same note on which the previous year ended.

However, that high note is one not often reached, because human nature dictates that when things go wrong, or plans miscarry, or misfortune strikes, it is easier to grumble, complain, and point an accusing finger at someone.

That high note is not popular for the simple reason that most people prefer to live with a sense of entitlement, the belief that one is deserving of special treatment.

And so, that high note of gratitude and worship is often left unsung.


I began this year on a high note, but somewhere along the way, I lost it.

Being thankful doesn't come naturally. It is easy to be thankful on the smooth roads of life. But when "there's pain in the offering," then it's another story.

This is my 65th year. And though my birthday was a well-celebrated event with family and friends, I have to admit, this has not been the best year of my life.

This also hasn't been the year when I was closest to Abba Father. There were times when I didn't want to draw near... I wanted to stay away.

There was too much pain, either in my own life, or in the lives of dear friends.

And, for the most part of this year, I have not remembered to be thankful.

My fifth grandchild passed away in June, fourteen days after she was born. She suffered much in the last days of her life.

In October, my close friend Cora lost her husband ... after months of pleading before God to heal him.

Five days later, Jing, another dear friend of mine, also lost her husband... this time so suddenly and unexpectedly.

Then one week later, my best friend Melanie also passed away. Another unexpected death.

Loss upon loss, grief upon grief...

I was in a season of mourning. And for the past five months before this month began, I was wearing the veil of grief.



Then... on the first of December, I went to Manila to be with my daughter Obedient One on her birthday.

On the morning of her birthday, as I was preparing a special breakfast for her, God reminded me about His promise on the day she way born, thirty-four December mornings ago.

You see, my third child was conceived when my second son was barely a year old, and my first born was three.

I wasn't ready for her.

It's not that I didn't want her... I just wasn't ready for the heavy responsibility of raising another child; not when I was still raising two very young boys.

And here she was, making her presence very much felt ... on that cool December morning when Ernie and I were in our car at the parking lot of Riverside Hospital, listening to Christmas music while waiting for the contractions to grow stronger before we would decide to check in.

I found myself offering this heartfelt prayer, Thank You Father for this little baby inside of me. He (or she) is Your Christmas gift to me this year, and I am so very sorry for thinking I was not ready for him... Please forgive me. I want to thank You right now for this precious gift of life.  (At that time, ultrasounds to determine the sex of the baby before birth was not yet popular.)

I will never forget what the Lord spoke to my heart, in response to my prayer. He said, This baby will be a constant reminder of My faithfulness to you.

I could have knelt down right then and there. The impact of His words to me took me by surprise. Just twelve words... but I still remember them clearly each time this child's birthday comes around.

God is never late... He is always on time. And at a time when I thought it was too soon to have another child, nothing was a mistake, or an accident to God. He had a divine exchange ready for me—His sure faithfulness for my unbelief.

I suppose God taught me my first major lesson on thankfulness that memorable December morning.

A few hours later, a healthy 8.10-pound baby girl was born. 

She has grown up to be a delight to us her parents. I call her Obedient One. And as I always say, to this day, she has never broken my heart. She is indeed a beautiful reminder of God's faithfulness.

I named the previous month, Bittersweet November. But as December came in, I sensed the season changing. 

The Passion translation of Song of Songs 2:11-13 beautifully describes it for me:

The season has changed,
the bondage of your barren winter has ended,
and the season of hiding is over and gone.
The rains have soaked the earth
and left it bright with blossoming flowers.
The season for singing and pruning the vines has arrived.
I hear the cooing of doves in our land,
filling the air with songs to awaken you
and guide you forth.
Can you not discern this new day of destiny
breaking forth around you?
The early signs of my purposes and plans
are bursting forth.
The budding vines of new life
are now blooming everywhere.
The fragrance of their flowers whispers,
“There is change in the air.”
Arise, my love, my beautiful companion,
and run with me to the higher place.
For now is the time to arise and come away with me.

The past weeks of this month I found myself humming that high note of thankfulness again.

As this year comes to a close, I am grateful for this important lesson God has taught me well... through the rough less-traveled roads I have had to walk on.

I have discovered that being thankful, no matter what, unlocks many doors for me. New opportunities show up. Fresh provision arrives just in time.  I wake up with a new song on my lips. There is an open heaven above me.

Being thankful causes the atmosphere to shift, and removes the heavy burden of fear from my shoulders.

Being thankful is an act of humility, acknowledging that I am ever dependent on God.

I still recall what Pastor Joe Ascalon said in his December 31, 2017 sermon, Gratitude is the language of trust. (January 2017 blog post here)

Yes, being thankful reminds me that I am trusting, not in my own strength, not in my own abilities, not in my own resources, but in God alone.

Pastor Joey Bonifacio also spoke about being thankful in yesterday's message at Victory Katipunan. He said thanking God at the start of each day reminds us that we can't make it through this day on our own.

What a timely confirmation that message was!

Being thankful helps me boost my faith that God is doing something beautiful, in the midst of my circumstances.

Being thankful helps me have a change of outlook, enables me to see my life from God's perspective.

The enemy seeks to steal my joy, cloud my vision, and derail me from my destiny, but giving thanks is God's divine exchange for me.

Indeed I am grateful that as this month and this year come to a close, I am ending it on a high note, the very same note I was singing when this year began.

Thanks to God for my Redeemer Traditional Hymn

Give Thanks by Eddie James

Dance With Me by Paul Wilbur

2019: A New Day of Destiny by Elaine Tavolacci

Bittersweet November

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Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat
falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone;
but if it dies, it bears much fruit.
- John 12:24




Every day we experience something of the death of the Lord Jesus, 
so that we may also know the power of the life of Jesus 
in these bodies of ours. Yes, we who are living 
are always being exposed to death for Jesus’ sake, 
so that the life of Jesus may be plainly seen in our mortal lives.
- 2 Corinthians 4:10ff (JB Phillips)




Life at best is bittersweet.
- Jack Kirby

bit·ter·sweet

adjective /ˈbidərˌswēt/

1. (of food, drink, or flavor) sweet with a bitter aftertaste.

2. containing a mixture of sadness and happiness.

This November marks the tenth year since my husband Ernie went home to heaven. It is also the month of his birth; he would have been 72 years of age if he were still alive today.

On November 2, I woke up in a pensive mood. It was Ernie's birthday—a special day that I wanted to celebrate all by myself. At 8 a.m. I was dressed and ready to go to L' Fisher Hotel for their buffet breakfast. In my tote bag was my journal where I had planned to jot down some of my thoughts about the past ten years, while enjoying a leisurely breakfast.  

When I reached McDonald's, a thought suddenly entered my mind, almost like a command: "Do not go to L' Fisher for breakfast, eat at McDonald's instead." There was no hesitation; I entered McDonald's and ordered a big breakfast for myself.

After breakfast, I crossed the street to go to Grace Pharmacy to pick up a few groceries. Then my phone rang. It was Lyndon asking about the whereabouts of my second son Worshiper. Lyndon and wife Ann were at the hospital to pray for our friend Melanie who was in her third day of confinement. Lyndon called because Melanie was having difficulty breathing and was asking for her son Daniel who was arriving from New Zealand that morning.

I told Lyndon that Worshiper was at the airport to pick up Daniel, and that they were probably already on their way to the hospital.

About half an hour later, I received another phone call. This time it was my son. "Mom, where are you? I think you better come to the hospital... they are doing CPR on Tita Lanie."

I rushed to the Doctors' Hospital and went up to Room 302... but Melanie, my best friend, was gone. 

She passed away just a few minutes after her son Daniel arrived.

Autumn 2013, Virginia

There is a season for everything,

a time for giving birth,

a time for dying;

a time for tears,

a time for laughter;

a time for mourning,

a time for dancing.

-Ecclesiastes 3:1, 2, 4

Joyce Rupp in her book, Praying Our Goodbyes, writes these beautiful words in her opening chapter:

Every autumn reminds me of my vulnerability. It carries the truth that life is fragile, that there are no sure guarantees for a trouble-free life, that there is always some dying in living, that change is inevitable.

That just about sums up my location statement for now:  Autumn.

In the Ancient Paths seminars that we conduct, one of the questions I ask during the first small group session is this: "What name would you give the season you are in right now?"  

The second half of this year marked a new season for me. When Marla Elisha my fifth grandchild passed away on the last day of June, there was no doubt that I entered a painful season of loss, a grieving season.

First Born son and his wife God-given are hard-hit the most, but I myself am also going through a personal grief journey.

I thank God for teaching me the importance of viewing my life from the perspective of seasons. Knowing the season I am in helps me understand what He is doing, and allows me to cooperate with His purposes.

When I look at the splendor of the fall season, I am amazed at how the leaves change their color from the different shades of green to various hues of yellow, orange, gold, red, and brown.  Fall is my favorite season, although where I live, we do not even have an official autumn season. What I know of fall is from the books and poetry I have read about it, and from the one-time first-hand experience I had of it in 2013, when I visited my sister who lives in the East Coast of the US, and stayed with her for four months.

Fall represents so many things in life. It is a harvest season, but it also speaks of relinquishment, and letting go. 

What makes autumn so beautiful is the way the trees so willingly let go of their foliage. There is no struggle or resistance, just a perfect cooperation with the way God our Creator has designed it. After the glory of summer, there is a quiet and gentle transition to fall, and in the words of one of my favorite authors, Lilias Trotter, in autumn, "even the fair petals must fall."

Indeed to the onlooker, it is a seeming waste.

But God has a beautiful reason for autumn. After the fruit is harvested, the leaves have to go, to prepare the trees for a season of rest.

How wonderfully God has designed His creation! And as humans, we too have our cycles and our seasons of activity, fruit-bearing, and rest.

I've had my hopeful spring seasons of new life and budding opportunities. Glorious summers of success and accomplishment. But now that I am in my mid sixties, melancholy fall, so to speak...I have to admit this isn't how I envisioned this season of my life would be. 

Some people have perfectly laid-out plans, and either by ingenuity, or self-discipline, it seems that they are able to achieve it.

I am not like that at all. 

Truth be said, I have not come up with any specific plan as to how my life would be—except that I turned my pen over to my Scriptwriter, and did the best I could given the circumstances I found myself in.

Productive years of raising children, building a home, growing in maturity.

And yes, there have been victories and trophies, shining moments of honor. 

And now comes autumn.

I see myself as standing alone in the backstage, the curtains are drawn and the lights are off.

Doubt sets in. 

Maybe I am not really good at making strategic plans. That is not a put-down, or a label I have attached to myself. It is just an honest description of who I think I am.

I like to be neat and orderly... but today, I don't think those words would describe my life.

My husband went home to heaven ten years ago. That was completely unplanned. And where I am today... well, it isn't exactly what I want it to be.

It would have been ideal if Ernie were still around today, and if our family were enjoying a healthy five month old Baby Marla, instead of visiting their graves several times a year. 

But people don't live forever. Sometimes they die.

And as my friend Ruby reminds me: "What about sickness, and ill-health... could we not say that Abba Father has a far better plan in bringing them home to heaven and giving them their complete healing there?"

Yes, of course! Who could argue with that?

However, I am not just talking about the death of a loved one. Autumn, for me, also represents the death of dreams, the death of opportunities, the realization that our plans do not always end up being fulfilled.

If I may count the times I have encountered disappointment in life, I am sure my ten fingers would not be enough.

But as I enter another autumn season, a season of loss, a season of relinquishment and letting go, I do not want to measure it in terms of  of how often I have been disappointed by unmet expectations and unrealized goals.

Rather, I want to flow with the perfect plans of God for me.

David in his Psalms couldn't have phrased it more perfectly:

Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.
- Psalm 139:16


The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup;
you hold my lot.
The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
Indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.
- Psalm 16:5-6

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.

My life is a tapestry in the making, And while I can only see it from the underside, I must not forget God sees it differently from above.

God Himself says it: I hold your lot; you have a beautiful inheritance. 

It's all a matter of perspective.

As I entered the last quarter of this year, I was preparing myself for 2019. It is the year of the open container, Ayin Thet in the Hebrew calendar,which began on Rosh Hashanah.  The open vessel represents an empty womb that is ready to receive new life;  this year represents new birth.

I was in an expectant mode of looking forward to creative miracles, creative provision, and experiencing God as the Father from Whom comes every good and perfect gift.

During our Women of Purpose retreat last October, each one of us offered up to God whatever we felt we needed to let go of, an act of emptying our hearts, to make room for the new things that He wants us to experience in this next season of our lives.

Then, so unexpectedly, Dan Ramirez, the husband of my friend Jing, died on October 27.

We were all so saddened by his sudden passing.

To many of us, Dan's death was a seeming waste.

For Jing, that was a major emptying,

But there can be no doubt about it, earth's loss is heaven's gain. There may be grief, but hope eases the pain of loss. God is doing a new thing.

I wanted to celebrate Ernie's birthday on November 2... and as I had mentioned, I was planning to jot down my thoughts about this season while eating a leisurely breakfast. 

Instead, I had to rush to be with the family of Melanie who went home to heaven that very morning, again, so unexpectedly.

I was not prepared to lose her. Nobody was. 

None of us expected her to die. We all thought God was already healing her, and that soon the cancer would be overcome; and that she would have a wonderful testimony of how God allowed her to survive the disease.

Melanie and I danced joyfully around the hall at the Negros Island House of Prayer seven times on Shemini Atzaret, September 30. We enjoyed the good food in celebration of the event, the day after the Feast of Tabernacles.

On October 15, we were together at the dinner table after our Monday night Bible study, again enjoying the delicious meal and the company of our other friends. There was to be a two-week break, and the Bible study was to resume on November 5. 

Indeed, Melanie's death came as a surprise to all of us.

How I wish I had spent more time with her, my beautiful friend who has loved me so unconditionally and so generously. No other friend could ever take her place.

As I am in the process of coming to terms with this deep loss, the words of Lilias Trotter speak comfort to me: Even the fair petals must fall.

And yes, Joyce Rupp is right. Autumn reminds us of our vulnerability, and that life is fragile. There is always some dying in living, and change is inevitable.

But I do believe in a divine exchange when confronted with so great a loss as this, for instance, the 50:20 vision of Joseph who spoke to his brothers these words:

As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good...
- Genesis 50:20

Whatever the enemy intends for evil, God can turn around for good.

There is life that comes out of death, there is value in exchange for ashes.

The beauty of autumn is in its picture of humility, the bare trees standing tall in their stark nakedness, ready for the new life to burst forth in the next season.

I love the picture of nobility that this season depicts. The glory of summer gladly makes way for the noble humility of autumn.

Yes, even the fair petals must fall.

It is indeed a bittersweet November, but I am embracing this season of loss, knowing that there is a coming day of far better things to come.

It is easy to lose sight of the big picture when things are not what we want them to be.

But I believe this is the best season to live my life before an audience of One.

I sense Abba Father speaking to my heart, "Embrace this season, believe that I am the God who makes all things beautiful in My own time."

One of my favorite quotes is from Ugo Bassi, who writes these amazing lines:

Measure thy life by loss, and not by gain;

Not by the wine drunk, but by the wine poured forth.

For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice;

And he that suffereth most, hath most to give.

And then, here's another one, by Rumi, a 13th century Persian poet:

A poem that has encouraged me:

Life is But a Weaving

Grant Colfax Tullar

My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me.

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside.

Not ‘til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skillful hand

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned

He knows, He loves, He cares;

Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.

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This song of worship, by Brian Littrel, is a fitting one for this month:

And of course, this one as well:

Two blog posts about Melanie:

A Friend Named Melanie

A Touch of Kindness

Storm Watch

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Then He arose and rebuked the wind, 

and said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” 

And the wind ceased and there was a great calm. 

-Mark 4:39-40




For you have been my refuge, 
a strong tower against the foe.
-Psalm 61:3

Today I return to my home city of Bacolod after being here in Metro Manila for the past 18 days.

It's been time well-spent for me: three days of ministry in Tagaytay City, quality bonding time with my daughter, and touching base with a few dear friends. I was also able to do some serious yard work in my father's garden.

Above all, there was plenty of much-needed "alone-time", taking stock of my life, evaluating my priorities, communing with Abba Father, reading, and writing—things I can't do on the move. One needs a long pause for this, an extended time of just being quiet, unhindered by other matters.

And there was much time for intercession.

Among the many verses in Scripture that have a deep impact on me are the words of Jesus about being careful not to flaunt our acts of righteousness, specifically what He says in Matthew 6:6—

But you, when you pray, go into your room, 

and when you have shut your door, 

pray to your Father who is in the secret place; 

and your Father who sees in secret will reward you openly.

And that is why I am not in the habit of telling others about my prayer life. It is something that Jesus says we are to do in secret, together with fasting and giving to others in need. Otherwise, it could become a subtle form of self-promotion, even though we may not be aware of it.

However, since this post is about prayer, I want to share what a blessing my prayer language has been to me. These past months, there have been many important concerns to pray for, and words were no longer sufficient. Praying often in my prayer language allows the Holy Spirit to pray through me. It is no longer me praying my prayers, but me praying the prayers of God's heart. This gives me a deep sense of satisfaction, of being connected to the heart of Jesus our great High Priest, and the Holy Spirit who helps us in our weakness—for we do not know how to pray as we ought. The Bible says that Jesus ever lives to make intercession for us, and that the Holy Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.

There were two storms that made front page news last week: tropical cyclone Mankhut that hit the northern part of our country this weekend, and Hurricane Florence that struck the Carolinas at about the same time. The few days before the storms were expected to make landfall, I found myself praying day and night for these weather disturbances to lose strength or to change course to prevent bringing massive destruction.

Just after midnight of Saturday, Mankhut hit northern Philippines with 205 kilometers per hour sustained winds and over 300 kilometers per hour wind gusts. While Metro Manila was spared, many parts of our country were not. Once again, the deadly typhoon brought widespread destruction and untold loss to infrastructure and crops.

On a more personal note, I want to share how Hurricane Florence impacted a dear friend Elaine who lives in Laurinburg, North Carolina. Florence slammed into Wilmington, North Carolina on Friday morning as a Category 2 slow-moving hurricane. After making landfall, it moved inland bringing destruction along its path. That afternoon, Elaine's husband Billy and their teenage son Jadon were on their way home from church, saw a tree branch felled by the hurricane, and got out of their car to clear the neighborhood road of the debris. While doing so, two other branches fell on them, injuring both father and son, but Jadon suffered a cracked skull and brain bleed. He was rushed to the local hospital in critical condition. An emergency response team from Charlotte traveled three hours braving hurricane force winds to get him. Arriving back at Charlotte near midnight, a surgery was performed to relieve his brain of pressure. (Billy earlier had been treated for head wounds, but he had to be with his wife and son despite the 12 staples that were on his head.)


They could have ignored the debris, looked away, and just driven on. But they did what comes naturally to them, to lend a helping hand. Now one day after, Jadon is in critical condition, fighting for his life.

I cannot imagine the pain. What started as a storm watch, praying for protection and safety, ended in a traumatic life and death situation for them.

And all we her friends can do is pray, pray, and pray some more. Believing, hoping, pleading, and interceding.

In the days to come I know many questions will be asked. Could this accident have been avoided? Just two more minutes, and Jadon could have been spared this accident. Why did he have to be at that very spot at the precise moment that tree fell?

I am reminded of Hannah Smith's famous lines from a book I read when I was a young Christian.

Things in which we can see God's hand always have a sweetness in them which consoles while it wounds...

What is needed, then, is to see God in everything, and to receive everything directly from His hands, with no intervention of second causes. And it is just to this that we must be brought, before we can know an abiding experience of entire abandonment and perfect trust. Our abandonment must be to God, not to man, and our trust must be in Him, not in any arm of flesh, or we shall fail at the first trial.

And so trust God I must.

Last night I went to sleep praying, woke up middle of the night praying, dreamt of Elaine, prayed for her in my dream, and woke up, still praying.

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When the month of September began, the picture of a lighthouse glowing in the dusk kept popping up in my head. And when that happens, I know there is a message that Abba Father is trying to get across. 

To a seafarer on a stormy sea, a lighthouse can spell the difference between life and death.

Lighthouses mark dangerous coastlines, hazardous shoals, reefs, and safe entries to harbors. (source)


Jesus is definitely our Lighthouse, but so are we little lighthouses showing the way through the turbulent waters of this world.

In the many conversations my daughter and I have had over the past several days, I would remind her that no matter what circumstances we find ourselves in, we can be little lighthouses, reflectors of God's light and hope in the darkness around us. But in order to be one, a strong faith is the secret.

And I would keep telling her, "Two things are essential to help keep our faith strong: joy, and gratitude."

When it comes to discipling the next generation, I don't mind sounding like a broken record.

The joy of the Lord is your strength, I had told her countless times. If you have joy, then you are strong. Nothing can discourage you.

In everything give thanks, I would also remind her. A thankful heart is a heart that trusts God. It is the language of trust.

And now, I find myself speaking these words to myself. I am holding on to faith, choosing joy, and choosing to be thankful - for my beloved nation the Philippines, and for my dear friend Elaine.

This is Elaine's latest update (Saturday evening, September 15, 2018 EST) about her son, and I quote:

It's hard to know what to write as an update. My heart is so full. My heart is so empty. What I want to do is wrap my boy up and take him home like I did in November 2000. What I am doing instead is warming his way too cold toes with my warm breath. There have been highs and lows today. Jadon's bp has stabilized and his temp is manageable. Coming off sedation went smoothly. We didn't get as much movement as the doctor wanted, but there was some minimal. He opened his eyes fully when the doctor kneaded his shoulder with some applied pressure and yelled loudly. It was enough to buoy our spirits momentarily. However the doubt in me quickly swelled to overflow when he went back to a deep sleep. He is off sedation now, on a thousand other drugs, and doesn't seem to be in distress. He had a CT scan as well as scans of neck and lower back to make sure there was no damage to his spine. We don't know the results yet. We were buoyed by visits from a few who made the drive despite the rain. He's been prayed over and over and over again. I won't ever turn it down. I have all my kids in one place. I am so glad they are here. What grace! There is nothing easy about this, but there is a whole lot of good. Right now, I am looking at the best good I know. Jadon Charles Olsen, he whose name means "God has heard." Fight hard, mighty warrior. Fight forward. The best is yet to be. Jadon, remember how very, very much you are loved. Will you pray with us?

My heart breaks for my dear friend. We have not met face to face, but I love her nonetheless. I am praying for her, with sighs and groans too deep for words.

And I know how it feels. When you are in deep waters, you need others to be strong for you.

I am being strong for you, my dearest Elaine.

And I am with you in this, waiting for the storm to subside.

Sometimes it takes a storm to find a hiding place...

Jesus, You are our Lighthouse... Lord, You are our Hiding Place.

The More I Seek Him

Aslan and Lucy in Prince Caspian

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“Aslan," said Lucy. "You're bigger."

"That is because you are older, little one," answered he.

"Not because you are?"

"I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.”

- C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian: The Return to Narnia 
The Chronicles of Narnia (1951, Harper Collins, 1994) 141. 

But from there you will seek the Lord your God, 

and you will find Him if you seek Him 

with all your heart and with all your soul.

Deuteronomy 4:29

...give thanks in all circumstances; 
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Thessalonians 5:18

By him therefore let us offer 
the sacrifice of praise to God continually, 

that is, the fruit of our lips 
giving thanks to his name.

- Hebrews 13:15

I haven't been around blogger much the past months. There have just been too many things on my plate, and writing blog posts has not been at the top of my list. I have written a few brief posts on my other blog Holy Ground ; otherwise, I've been mostly silent on blogworld.

Much as I want to keep this blog updated, lately it has been difficult to sit down and come up with well-thought-out posts. This saddens me, because writing blog posts helps me to hear myself think and brings a little clarity into my inner life. It is also one of my "emotional tank fillers."

To be honest, there has not been much time for me the past months for soul-searching, solitude, and reflection.

It's not that I have backslidden or drifted away. Nothing of the sort. God is my All in all, and there will never be a time that He is not my true source of life.

We all go through seasons.

I do feel the inner hunger and longing of my soul to connect to God at a much deeper level, to drink from the fountain of His wisdom and quench my thirst for His healing presence. Yes, the parched ground of my heart is waiting to be flooded again with life-giving water.


These days I am in my father's home in Manila to spend a couple of weeks with my daughter after a time of ministry in Tagaytay City. And for this much-needed respite, I am truly grateful.

It affords me some quality time to listen to my heart, commune with my heavenly Father, and write my thoughts down.

The year 2018 in our Gregorian calendar overlaps with the year 5778, or Ayin Chet, in the Hebrew calendar.

The number 8 is represented by the character chet in the Hebrew alphabet.

The picture we get from the character chet is that of a doorway in a wall or fence. It is a passageway, and connotes a crossing over from one place to another.

As I look back at the past months, it does seem that the crossing over idea implied in chet fits my circumstances perfectly.

When the year began, it felt like I was in a waiting season, and that God was positioning me for something He had yet to reveal. Although I welcomed 2018 with a sense of quiet excitement for what lies ahead, I was also aware of uncertainty lurking in my heart as the days and weeks went by.

Several reasons account for this.

I am in the middle of a legal battle, one that is not of my doing, yet the only option open to me is to face it. During the times I had come to Father's throne room regarding this, His word seemed like this was the path to removing hindrances from my past that stands in the way of new kingdom assignments He has for me. God means it for good; nevertheless, I have to go through it.

I am praying for and believing in a favorable outcome, and wisdom for both my legal counsel and the judge. But I admit fear of the what ifs floods my heart every now and then.

And naturally, where there is fear, there is no real joy.

There's no doubt that heavenly Father knows my heart—He knows my spirit trusts Him, but my soul is in the process of working it out.


In January my daughter-in-law God-given was in her third month of pregnancy with her third child. Knowing it would not be easy for them, given their work schedules, I had decided even then that if needed, I would take an active role in caring for my new grandchild. This would mean a major adjustment for me, but I was willing.

They also needed a bigger bedroom for themselves and the new baby. Immediate plans were made to remove the furniture and things belonging to Ernie and me that were still in our old bedroom in our former home next door that now belonged to First Born Son and God-Given.

After First-Born Son and God-Given were married in early 2008, Ernie and I decided to move to our other house next door so they could have the house to themselves. We were still living in Chiang Mai, Thailand then. We returned from Thailand end of September that same year, three weeks before first grandchild Forerunner was born.

Ernie passed away unexpectedly in November.

With events happening one after the other—re-entry after a year-long absence, getting settled in a new house, new daughter-in-law, new grandson, Ernie's death, grieving—that old bedroom had remained virtually untouched for nearly ten years. It was the bedroom my husband and I shared for thirty years of our life together and many valuable memories were made in that room. I knew I had to deal with it sooner or later, but had kept putting it off.  Maybe subconsciously I was waiting until I was emotionally ready.

New grandchild was arriving sometime in June, and the room would require repairs, so I had to move fast. My big question was where to transfer all the things inside the closets, as well as most of the furniture in the room. I really did not have that much extra space in my home.


Meanwhile, my 65th  birthday was approaching, and I wanted a quiet but special celebration.


Our ministry, the Family Foundations International - Philasia, shifted into high gear beginning January. New doors were opening, and more ministry opportunities were coming our way.


The past months our nation has been undergoing too many changes all at the same time, and there is serious need for fervent intercession for our government and people.


In April, my daughter Obedient One left for a month long trip to the USA and Peru. I made two trips to Manila—one in April to see her off, and another one in May, to welcome her back.

Obedient One, on the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, Cusco, Peru

May 2018

Obedient One in Machu Picchu, Cusco, Peru
May 2018

And life goes on.

My weekly commitments continue: Monday night Bible study, Tuesday FFI ministry team lunch and meeting, Thursday lunch devotional with the women at church, Friday evening Shabbath meal, Saturday morning intercession, Sunday morning worship service, Sunday family get-together, special birthday celebrations, coffee meetups with friends...

Then there's my daily routine of domestic duties, garden maintenance, and marketing, not to mention looking after five medium-sized dogs needing my personal touch and attention.


On top of all these, a structural issue with my right foot has hampered my physical mobility and I can no longer move as fast as I used to.

My ayin chet. Going through the passageway of mixed emotions.

Waiting...

Quiet expectation...

Uncertainty...

Hope...

But never forgetting my two words for this year: gratitude and worship.

In early May I was finally able to empty our old bedroom. Boxes and plastic crates of clothes, books, personal effects, ornaments, letters, photographs, picture frames, memorabilia, bed linen, comforters, suitcases, a wicker chest, modular shelves and many others... found their way into my living room. 

The good thing about it is that it was all done in one day. Without the emotions that I feared would arise in the process. 

Another good thing is that it gave First Born Son and God-given just enough time to do repairs on the bathroom and the bedroom—re-tiling the floor, repainting the walls and ceiling, replacing the window screens, etc. 

I am very happy that light and life have once again entered that beautiful bedroom which was once a very special place for me and Ernie and our three children. 

However, the not-so-good thing is that all those things are now sitting in my front room. Thirty years of accumulated stuff, all of which I did not touch—or even need!—in the past ten years. 

Next comes the hard part of sorting through it, discarding and giving away most of it.  

But even that has to wait, for now.

On Saturday, June 16, my daughter-in-law God-given gave birth by C-section to her third baby. She developed pre-eclampsia during labor and her blood pressure went very high. Even two hours after the operation, her blood pressure had not normalized. She had a severe headache, the kind she had never experienced before.

Marla Elisha, my fifth grandchild was a tiny 4.1-pound baby at birth, but we were happy she had an APGAR score of 9. She was in the neo-natal ICU (NICU) for tests, waiting for her mother's blood pressure to normalize so she could finally be breastfed. She had an IV drip to keep her hydrated. They tried to feed her by dropping milk formula into her mouth.

God-given started feeling better on Monday morning, and she went to the NICU to breastfeed her baby for the first time. A second blood test that same day showed that Baby Marla had a blood infection and was put on antibiotics.

It is a long story.

They were able to bring Baby Marla home on Friday evening, a week after she was born. Thankfully, the baby was breastfeeding vigorously by then. But she still needed antibiotics, so she was brought to the hospital twice a day for the next four days for the injections.

Precious Baby Marla, six days after birth

Just after midnight on June 28, God-given noticed Marla was having difficulty breathing, so they rushed her to the hospital. The baby was admitted to the Pediatric ICU where a long struggle for her life took place.

I will not go into the painful details. Too many procedures were done on her fragile body in an attempt to address the issues. Too many tubes attached. Too much blood drawn several times a day to monitor how she was doing. At one time, six baby specialists were on board, each one with his or her set of medical protocol and management.

A tiny baby can only take so much.

Yes, we prayed for and believed in divine healing. But in His wisdom and compassion, Jesus took her home to heaven on June 30, 2018, exactly 14 days after she was born.

I was in Manila at that time for an Ancient Paths seminar in Tagaytay City. All the while this ordeal was going on for my dear daughter in law, God-given, I was being updated by phone calls and text messages. What a blessing it was to have Ruby, a precious friend, close by, upholding us in prayer and helping me to keep my faith strong. What a blessing indeed!

Our pastor, Pastor Joe, Ruby's husband William, my second son, Worshiper, my sis-in-law Sue, and a few other close friends, were around to give support to the family during and after baby Marla's last few moments here on earth.

I arrived back in Bacolod the following day to a grieving First Born son, daughter-in-law God-given, and first grandson Forerunner.

The pain is deep and the grief is overwhelming at times. Were it not for the grace of God, where would we be?

We had all looked forward to Marla's arrival, but God had other plans. She left us much too soon...



On July 4 we buried my newest grandchild, Baby Marla Elisha.

This is the season of our grief, and I am embracing the pain, and not wasting my sorrows. I believe in the Divine exchange. The day is coming when our mourning will turn to dancing, and our sorrow will turn to joy. Meanwhile we hold the hand of Jesus and cling to the truth that Abba Father knows what is best for us.

I know we will all go through the tunnel of grief ... for reasons known to God alone.

Even as I write these words, tears are falling. If I am grieving, how much more Marla's mother and father?

But  through my tears, I sense my heart saying, "Consider it an honor...that God would entrust you with this."

Yes, it's an honor...

So we will grieve in faith, in hope, and in the comfort of God's love.

I know we will not go through that tunnel alone.

There is One whose Son also died, One who understands and feels our pain. He holds our hands and collects our tears in His bottle.

How long does one grieve for a loved one?

They say the grieving never ends, you re-build your life around that grief.

And how does one respond when there is pain in the offering?

My heart will choose to say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord."


But what is God saying in the midst of all this?

The timing of the seasons is not accidental.

Tomorrow, at sundown, we will celebrate Rosh Hashanah, also called Feast of Trumpets or Yom Teruah. The year 5779  in the Hebrew calendar begins.

In my previous Rosh Hashanah posts, I have written much about the significance of the decade of the 70s, called ayin in Hebrew.

The ayin has a numerical value of 70, and its pictorial symbol is that of two eyes. As we know, 70 is a prophetic number in the Bible - Jacob's family numbered 70 when they moved to Egypt, and there were 70 disciples sent out by Jesus on their first assignment. It is the number of years that Jews were in Babylon; 70 stands for the end of an exile. In Daniel 9, the angel Gabriel gives Daniel the prophecy of 70 sevens (or 490 years), the prophetic timeline for the second coming of Jesus Christ.

The two eyes of ayin speak of two perspectives - good or evil. We choose what we see. But God is activating a divine perspective in His people in this decade. The eyes of our hearts are being opened like never before, and we are receiving understanding to know the times and the seasons of God not only in our personal circumstances, but in the rest of the world as well.

ayin

It is said that "each new Hebraic year combines with the years before. The new year does not negate the prophetic activity or meaning connected with the past year. Rather, each year enhances the previous. It’s like God is baking celestial bread and each year a new ingredient is added." (Lance Wallnau, Midnight Prophetic Watch Word)

Isn't that awesome?

Tomorrow, the year 5779 begins. Being the last year of this decade, it is a transitional year.

The number 9 in the Bible stands for the perfect moves of God. It is also a number that stands for patience - the willingness to wait for the fullness of time for God's perfect will to be accomplished. For me, the message implied in this number is clear: God is moving and I am waiting.

The Hebrew character for 9 is tet; it is depicted by a picture of an open container, which can also represent a womb, or an empty vessel.

Beautiful prophetic meanings abound and let me mention just a few.

Tet points to God as Creator. The first occurrence of this Hebrew character in the Bible is found in Genesis 1:4, where God saw the light He had just created and called it tov (Hebrew for "good"), where the t in the beginning of this word is tet. 

God as Creator creates life and is an active agent for new birth.

Tet also represents an empty vessel, a humble and teachable heart that is ready to be filled. It represents the work of the Holy Spirit in hearts that are open.

Some scholars say tet is the picture of the veil being torn in two - from top to bottom, and points to the finished work of Jesus on the Cross. It therefore points to Jesus as our great High Priest who has paid the ultimate sacrifice that we may gain direct access to the heavenly Holy of Holies where God is eternally present.

So much more can be said about tet, but I think I have said enough to make a point.

So,what does this mean for me personally?

I believe I am entering the year when God is revealing Himself as Creator. I am looking for new birth in my circumstances,  creative miracles, creative provision. A crown of beauty from ashes. The oil of joy instead of mourning. A garland of praise instead of despair.

I empty my cup before Him and receive a fresh outpouring of wisdom, discernment, and revelation.

Knowing Jesus as my great High Priest, I enter boldly into God's throne of grace, where I find mercy and grace in my time of need.

One more thing about ayin: it is a silent letter. It does not have to be heard. It speaks of humility. It also speaks of hiddenness, which is very much how I feel these days. To be hidden behind the cross, and to live my life before an audience of One.

image source

It is all falling into place so beautifully as I stand at the threshold of the year ayin tet.

The personal message of Abba Father to me in this season is that if I keep my heart open to receive, He is more than willing to fill it up.

Last night, I was reminded of that great lion Aslan's words to Lucy, in C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia:

Every year you grow, you will find me bigger.

What joy filled my heart when I remembered those lines!

Perspective is everything!

In a place of pain and adversity and uncertainty, God brings understanding... God brings growth...

and every year I grow, I will find Him bigger. 

You will seek Me and find Me 

when you search for Me with all your heart.

- Jeremiah 29:13