If I consider myself lucky, would that be a sin? You are, after all, not a god of chances according to Ms. Bless Pascual, my theology teacher who also happened to be my science teacher, and who incidentally, once praised me for being a terrific writer after she read a written piece I turned in for a school project.

But really, how much of that accolade is based on being at the right place at the right time? Perhaps the happy circumstance that Ms. Bless Pascual was in a good mood as she was reading my paper, or that my classmates somehow managed to turn in terrible work, making it seem like my piece was a cut above the rest?

Now if you think little of that, let me tell you about that one time when I watched a movie at the mall: it started later in the day than usual and I lost track of time until I realized halfway through that the movie was a piece of crap and decided to get up and leave. That when I got out the cinema it was already dark outside, the rest of the mall was closed and I just barely missed the last jeepney ride in the terminal, that otherwise I would have walked home in the dark in an unsafe environment (this is the city of Manila we’re talking about).

Come to think of it, was my life-long admiration for art and literature — which wouldn’t occur had I not been trained to read books at a young age by a grandmother who also happened to be a well-read professional teacher, making her therefore a major force behind my educated taste when it comes to what makes art (in whichever incarnation — the case in point being, a film) good quality or not; responsible for the turn of events I wrote down earlier? Had I been a sucker and could not distinguish between what makes good art to what comes out of my asshole then I would have watched that awful movie until the end credits, and with that being said, I would have missed the last ride home, which would then result in me being forced to walk those dark streets alone, and as a teenage girl (back then) one could only count on one’s fingers the scenarios which would have yielded as much potential danger to my personal safety.

I don’t believe for one second that all of that was simply because I got lucky. It was You, Lord.

You were the spirit that guided my hand to write down the right words, as much as You were the afflatus that pumped to life the bullshit-radar in my head. It was You who paved the way for me to build up on my aptitude as a writer, it was Your presence that brought me home to safety.

As Ms. Bless Pascual put it, You are not a god of chances, my Lord; in a perfect 20–20 vision, Your eyes are everywhere, and You see me.

I didn’t see it coming, but my soul cried out to You and You came to my rescue.

I took for granted what talent I have, believing myself to be a total loser, and yet You loved me, that’s why You used Ms. Bless Pascual (and Ms. Castillo — who wrote in one of my papers that I had ‘a flare for writing’, Ms. Sangawa — who personally told my mother that I had excellent writing skills for my age, Ms. Frialde — who told me my writing style was unique, albeit a little weird, and Ms. Gomez — who always praised my ability to elaborate my ideas in writing, and do so with both style and substance) to open my eyes in order to see that You’ve given me a gift, a talent worth cultivating, and in return Lord, I intend to use it for Your Greater Glory.

I became careless with my safety, believing myself to be invincible during my teenaged years, and yet You loved me all the same, that’s why You made me remember that one rule when it comes to movie-making: “thou shall not bore.” (another insight from another teacher, Sir Roy Iglesias, who was a huge influence in me landing my first job as a scriptwriter for a major television network here in my country) In light of which, and with the rest of the details written down earlier in this letter, You forever imprinted in my mind how much You really cared, and still care for me.

These happy “accidents” are not the only manifestations of Your love, but are among the sweetest-smelling in the bouquet of blessings I constantly receive from You year after year.

Your love is a rose that never withers, Your greatness the thorns on that rose pricking away the hands of evil that it may never tarnish the petals of eternal life which you are preserving for Your children.

And I am forever and eternally grateful.

Love,

Aiko ❤

Labels: christian, faith, hope, love