I don’t know how to start this post, except that last night, I tossed and turned in my bed past 2 am after the excitement that was the Royal Wedding, and the sheer joy of seeing a woman walking herself halfway down the aisle, aided by two pages, and she was black, a divorcee, an American in Hollywood’s exposed community, and she was about to marry a prince.
Add to that the fact that she will be embraced by the British royal household, who lavishly endowed her with an extravagant celebration, in which event an American black pastor spoke the message that tells about the unquenchable love, and that love could change the world, and this act was followed by a black choir singing, appropriately, Stand by Me. If you would say there is too much blackness in this wedding, I could only rejoice, for like an Esther moment, the now-Duchess of Sussex has paved the way for her culture to enter a world where non-melanin-skinned people rule.
Into this stark-colored tapestry of life, gold threads are being sewn by God, mostly in sections where we less expect it.
And on Saturday, I saw a black man taking the platform and spoke to the world’s royal elites about Christianity, about love, right inside a strictly Catholic church. I saw a woman sitting firmly, beautiful and unfazed with her prince who embraced her, no matter her past. I saw a mother cry with pride.
I also saw hats.
Things always happen in the background.
Today, as my brother and I faced the morning weather that felt like noonday heat, we had unfortunate series of stopovers caused by some traffic down the streets of Paombong. The long line of vehicles before us wasn’t a good sighn. I thought it was because of the bus, but up one bridge, we saw a long trailer truck in full halt and two men trying to get it fixed.
I thought we won’t get to church on time.
Surprise. We did. Time, I reckon, is subjective. And during the waiting and groaning, it is good to carry your gravity, and carry it well.
This week gave me many opportunities. I was able to reconnect to an unresponding client. I passed on an opportunity to write for a local post due to lack of time. I started querying again. And, just as I am mulling over if my first lines work, here’s another revision idea that will lead me to having my character, as agents preferred, “show, not tell.”
Junjun dropped by dad’s office this morning and she shared her three-year-old daughter is not going to school. “That’s the start of everything,” I told her; I meant the tuition fees, but I saw in her heavy eyes a big fear about parenting. She nodded.
Let her take her time. Encourage her. These were words that came from me, who was not a mom (but frequently surrounded by kids). I don’t know if that helped. All I know is that women help each other. And when they’re in doubt of themselves, women lift each other.
She did the same to me too, for she asked about my book, and told me that, and I quote, “maraming nananalangin para sa ‘yo dito.”
And for the first time after a good one year of serving here, my heart feels so warmed.
People help people. That is the only proof that we are not alone in this journey.
I hope this week, you lift someone up. If you’re down in the pits, I hope you find a hand reaching down for you. x