It must be love

Jeweled phrases that have made a quiet home in my thoughts the past few weeks range from a lunch with very spiritual and insightful ladies, a text message, an unexpected package, a sleeping child, Mother Teresa’s book, solitude, the person in my favorite bookstore, a song from a favorite childhood movie, spaces, and a small purse filled with coins.

Loving is always about letting be and letting go, no matter how much they pain you.

Over lunch two weeks ago, one of the three delightfully spunky women I was with was thinking out loud. She said that the sadness that comes with saying goodbye and letting go is anchored on selfishness. At the heart of our woes is the shape of our thoughts – what and how we want things to be. Why were we, at birth, not given a handbook to teach us that hopes that melt with reality and dreams that set with the sun are not green lights to feel bad, feel sad?

Because it is something we learn best the hard way, in the rough and tumble of life. And there is much to learn. There is much to accept. A bigger picture to appreciate. God’s wiser plan. Loving is never about putting the other person in your pocket, swathing him in bubble wrap so he will never get hurt, move too far away, grow too fast. It is never about stifling his joy, his growth or clipping his wings. True love is about letting the person be who and what God designed him to be. Loving is not about always getting what you want, when you want it.

I remember how much I cried when my brothers (who stayed with me through their college life) had to go back to the province after graduation. I seemed to have conveniently forgotten they were no longer little boys but young men who needed and wanted to find their own place under the sun. They had their own lives to live, their own dreams to fulfill. I had no business hoping they would stay with me forever just because that made me happy.

I remember how I worried when my five-year-old daughter wanted to balance her little body on formidable, wobbly roller blades. And how I wanted to cry a million tears when father and daughter walked into Toby’s at The Podium to buy the whole helmet-elbow pads-knee pads-rollerblades combo. I knew it would mean scrapes, bruises, and tears. I had conveniently forgotten that it would also mean a hundred delighted squeals, sparkly eyes, a valuable father-daughter bonding activity (yes, it is only her daddy who can patiently and ably teach the daughter who is very much like him in terms of having a sense of adventure), a slice of a normal childhood, pools of triumph in her little heart for every progress made.

I remember how I would cry with every farewell (when I had to come home to Manila after a long stay in Ormoc), not realizing it only meant we had to go on with our own little lives so we would have much to share with each other the next time we were gathered together. If not for the reality of time apart, we would never truly appreciate time together.

* * *

Everything unfolds in its own time.

This was a text from my Aunt Fergie as she helped her son pack up for a long stay away from home. Exactly a year and a half ago, she helped him move in to his own place. Further and further away he seemed to be going. But as a mother, she also knows he has to keep growing. With a light heart (and by the grace of God), she has beautifully come to terms with saying farewell yet one more time. See, she said, this trip could very well change the direction of his life. True. And if I were in her place I would probably be bawling from sun up to sun down. My, oh my, I really still have much to learn in that department.

But then there will not be much room for God’s ways when ours take up all the nooks and crannies.

* * *

You can never out-give God.

As you give, so shall you receive.

My favorite household chore is organizing. I can spend the whole day going through our closets and pruning stuff I know I will never use the same way other people would. Growing up, mom and dad always taught us to give not only because something was no longer useful to us but because it was just not useful enough. So, it could be slightly used, brand new, in style, costly – if giving it away meant it would be put to better use by someone else then so be it. That said, it was a no-no to give anything that was badly damaged or totally worthless to even the most needy person. Give thoughtfully and never insult the recipient with the item, that was always the guiding principle.

You may not believe this but the cliché "the more you give, the more you receive" has held true countless times in my life. I saw that happen many times over with my parents. And it always happens to me. Every time I give something, it comes back to me in ways I never expect it to. Last week, I gave away three big shopping bags full of clothes. The following day, a dear, dear friend of mine sent me three luxuriously beautiful blouses from Max Studio (which incidentally happens to be one of my favorite brands). Three days ago, another friend arrived from Cebu, and as pasalubong she gave me two really nice tops. A few weeks back, my ninong sent me a big bagful of clothes. So you see, my closet is never empty. And this kind of thing always happens, too consistently for it to ever be a mere coincidence.

Once upon a time I embraced the "one in-one out" mantra. Whenever I buy something I always make it a point to also give away something. That way, I never ran out of closet space. As it is, I have not adhered to that self-imposed rule. My closet is always bursting at the seams (and I already told you it is not because I buy and buy). I just keep on giving, and somehow I also keep on receiving. Strange but true. I cannot complain though.

That is just as far as my closet goes, by the way. There’s more but that is another story to tell.

* * *

Let there be spaces in our togetherness.

A good friend once asked me if the fact that she enjoyed time away from her beloved was something to worry about. I could see where she was coming from. Did that mean she loved and needed him less? Did that mean she did not really want him as much as she thought she did?

Back in high school, I knew of a clingy girlfriend who thought the world of her boyfriend. Young love, very intense at that, she seemed to measure love by how much time they spent together. Addict, we laughingly would call her. Lovingly addicted, she would laughingly retort. One day, he just left without even bothering to say goodbye. The phone calls and letters stopped. Just like that. When they finally had the chance to talk years later, long after she had licked and healed her wounds, she gathered enough strength to ask him what went wrong. "You just never gave me the chance to miss you" was his quiet reply.

Yesterday, I was at one of my favorite bookstores at The Podium, Ink and Stone. I like it there because it is cozy, a lot of the books though not mainstream are beautiful and well-selected, and the person manning the shop is always well-informed about the titles. I asked Tat, the person in-charge that day, if the volume I was holding in my hand was a good one. It was Kahlil Gibran’s The Reader. On cue Tat quoted his favorite line from the book, "Let there be spaces in our togetherness."

It is a beautiful thought. Do not clutch at all cost. Give each other breathing space, growing space, the chance to pursue personal interests. There is much beauty in sharing during the time you spend together what each of you did during the time that you spent apart. It keeps each of you interesting to the other.

Of course, I bought the book. It would make a nice gift for my friend.