STORM

[Memories on December 6, 2012 at 2:57pm]

Last night I was still stuck until seven-thirty somewhere in a mountainous town in the Province of Antique.  The reason was not the storm anymore but the supposedly “peace talk” that went not peaceful but rather stormy.

A cloak-and-dagger game is, of course, nerve-wracking and gut-wrenching, but other people find it addictively challenging and extremely exciting. They say if a player just puts his heart into it, it’d surely enhance his intelligence, if any, let alone his wit.

Maybe I also developed this interest in the game because I was, still am, too interested in detective stories in books and films. I tried practice shooting with some pros and pretenders, but each time, distances of my hits in between were getting wider. So I stopped, what for, I said, after all, there’s my high school motto to remember with eyes closed, aim high, and pull the trigger.”

Oh, one thing, if you don’t have any intent to kill or have any other reason, why bother to be accompanied by Beretta, Glock, and Smith and Wesson? You say defense, but as for me I already have my Fortress and my Hiding Place of my own.  In times of trouble I run to the Rock and seek His Face because I’m heaven-bound late or soon.

Besides, wherever we go, whatever we do, surely we all cannot escape Grim Reaper’s wish. That’s why as what Esther 4:16 says that everybody should inevitably face, “If I perish, I perish.” But maybe I can’t say the same without any tinge of fear if I’m already in trance, or I find myself staring death in the face even from a not so far distance.

Like the way we stared at “Pablo” as we cruised along the southwest coastline of Antique the other day aboard my companion’s brand-new toy. This “Pablo” was on his way, heading North, from Mindanao to Palawan, evading Panay like a bad boy, they said not to search but to destroy.

For the four scenic provinces in the whole beautiful Panay Island, perhaps God had some other plans. Whatever they might be, one was to spare from “Pablo” His herein lovely daughters and lovable sons.

My soul praises the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob and of nature. My old Sunday School song was right and is right here to endure: “I can smile at the storm,” though my family and I peacefully live right here along the sometimes tranquil, sometimes angry shore.