A Story of a Love to Remember

My name is James. Everyone calls me by that name. 
My Papa called me Jim and my Mama called me Jimbo. One brother of mine calls me Semaj. 
Wait, let me tell you about one brother who calls me by myriad names. He calls me Hermenegi. Hermenehoho. You get the drift, right? My I.D. actually says the first one because it would not fit on the card.
Let me ask you this. What's in a name?
It's just a name.
For the deaf it doesn't matter at all.
For the mute they would not be able to voice out my name.
Anyway, there are millions of Jameses in the world.
Each of us are special. From research the chances of us being born is one in a Trillion. 
I was not meant to be born. The plan was just to have a dozen children. That's it. Nothing more and nothing less.
But, since God perhaps thought that my father and my mother did a pretty great job of raising 12 children they were blessed by a bonus.
That would be little old me.
As the story goes my mother was advised by the doctor not to have any m…

The Blue House

You're lucky Peter! It was difficult for me. I saw hell. It was pungent there. And the devils really get to your bones and not just crawl on your skin. But, I'm glad you shared your story. It made me see the other side. The better place.
Norma Betty, I tell you it was Him that I saw, God Almighty. He is Pure Light. And, I want to see Him again. One day.

photo credit: ЕгорЖуравлёв Blue_component via photopin(license) License: (license)

Guest Post | Atty. Juan Luis Z. Carpio - EPIPHANY

(by jlzc, January 6, 2019)
In this Feast of Epiphany, Homage to the Blessed Baby. To follow the star of fixed bars, Or could we rewrite our own stars?
This journey of recovery, Prayer and patience, aplenty! Along the shore of gentle waves, Soothing what the soul deeply craves.
In search of what’s precious and true, Where do we go? What must we do? Greater than darkness is God’s light! More than our weakness, is His might!
Gold for the youth, for our children! I’ll dream again, I live again!

Fears: The red car named Doctor

George Bricklodge saw a red car parked on the side of the road. It was parked right in front of the house he used to live in. He had flashbacks.

When he was a young boy he was accidentally hit by a car. His mother prayed that he would wake up and still recognize her.

He did wake up. He woke up looking at an aquarium filled with fishes.

During his childhood he became uncomfortable with any kind of vehicle. He had carsickness. He always brought with him a passenger discomfort bag.

Growing up, he had a fear of crossing streets.

Then, it stopped.

He saw the red car and examined it. It was a doctor's car. 

That fear and other fears went away against all the odds.

He felt safe.

Mr. Bricklodge died at a young age also without fear of death.

His cousin asked, "How did he die?"

His uncle told her, "He got hit by a bus while doing his morning exercise. He lost balance while walking on the uneven sidewalk. He fell on the road and the driver didn't see him. The lamppost was out of ord…

Andrew's Brother

I remember you asking for your photo taken to make her happy. I remember you giving me the things you owned. I remember all the other things.
Well, I guess now you know.
And, now that you know you understand me a lot better.
But, let's forget about those.
I followed everything you said. Every detail.
Now, all I have to do is wait.

photo credit: cyrusoxford Woodstock Barbers 2016 via photopin(license) License: (license)

Guest Post | Atty. Juan Luis Z. Carpio - Sunday: Advent Rose!

Rejoice! It is the season of Advent and The Star is about to rise... Amidst a dark 2018 sickness, death, destruction, fake news and lies. After a year for the consecrated, now comes the year for the youth - Renewed heart with greater compassion and zest for the pursuit of truth!
With the efforts of the United Nations, Yemen is blessed with a ceasefire. With much strife in Syria, there is still hope for healing, music and the lyre. In our beloved Pearl of the Orient, amidst a continuing culture of impunity, The Balangiga bells shall ring again to rally tested spirits weary but free!
In our own limits and confines of wherever we find ourselves to be, On vacation, at work, in transit, heavy traffic, as far as the eyes can see, Much ado about a lot of things and yet they fail to perpetually satisfy. A journey of healing, walking by the bay, up a hill, continues to intensify!
With greater patience, as this unquenchable desire is ready to burst. With joyful hope we look for the spirits, and The Coming! …

Guest Post | Atty. Juan Luis Z. Carpio - The Light

About 2025 years ago, a Light shone bright on Bethlehem town. Wrapped in swaddling clothes far from an opulent royal gown. Emmanuel, “God with us”, such a phenomenon, it must be crazy. To be human like us, taking pain and suffering, abandoning all glory!
In present times when we have the darkest, saddest moments of life, Faced with uncertainties, sickness, death, and unending fraternal strife, Much struggle it becomes to see beyond the pervading storms of doubt. Much emptiness, helplessness, this draining deep experience of drought!
Ah, where could solace in these trying times be adequately sought? Christmases thru the years, this Saviour born in a family has brought. In each home we thus venture to share the Season’s hope and joy; Taking journeys all over to seek the saving grace of Mary’s baby boy!
From Bohol to Baguio, and to Bicol, I have seen Bethlehem’s Light! From the darkness, I have witnessed the saving power of His Might!

(by jlzc, Christmas 2018)

Ascension Presents | Christmas: A Time for Hope

Ascension Press and Ascension Presents in collaboration with Inspires give you this riveting magnum opus.‎..

Condensed Reflection by James Z. Carpio

When my father was imprisoned during Martial Law because he fought against the dictatorship of the late former President Marcos, he wrote to my mother that there was a plant in a small pot and then one day, a flower bloomed. 

It reminded him of my mother. And, he wrote how he missed her.

The flower gave him hope.

It was in 1981 or so when that happened. Our mother and my siblings visited him. I remember that it was a small prison cell. It was dark and had a small window with bars. It was desolate and I felt despondent.

This year a day before Christmas during my early morning exercise I saw a man walking with a shirt that has hope boldly imprinted on it.

It was a reminder for me to write for Christmas yet again.

Hope is a beautiful and precious thing. Nothing is hopeless if you have faith in the same way that nothing is impossible with God. Faith can…

Christmas with my Father and my Mother

Caja de hierro and Servilleta:
Those two words always resonate with me whenever I remember Papa and Mama.
The vault was stolen a long time ago. However, whenever my Papa would say the word, it had a depth and a clarity. One word- security.
The table napkin had Carpio Family embroidered with it. It was a yellow cloth and it came more than a dozen. My Mama would carefully fold them and, then, neatly stack them inside the cupboard.
It is Christmas.
My Holiday memories are neatly stacked like the table napkins inside the vault.
To be simply put, my Christmas memories with my parents are treasured inside my heart.
My parents' love lives on in me, especially, during the Christmas Season.
I remember the two of them making the Season memorable. My Papa would write a poem for the Christmas card. He would put up the tree and the farol. My Mama would decorate the whole house with trimmings and ornaments. The Advent wreath and the Nativity scene were more relevant with their religious significance.
I …

I saw The Light and He spoke...

Do you believe in God? He asked me. Then, I said, "yes, I do". He told me whatever they did that was hurtful to you will all come back to them. I thought to myself no I don't want that...
Then, He told me talk to them. Then, they will be your friends.
I spoke to him. Then, he reached out.
Then, I left.
I met a man of peace.
Then, I became a man of peace.
Funny, how life can be...
When I decided to be a hermit, people from my past and present keep popping up out of nowhere.
Someone once said that you do not meet anyone by accident, it was meant to be.
Living in a foreign country was freedom for me. It was freedom because I am naturally shy and an introvert. And, that is not a disorder, a social trait.  In the same way that being outgoing and an extrovert. Better explained as apples and oranges. Being anti-social is a disorder on the other hand. 
Shy is normal.
When I listen to people I process their statements outright. The good ones stay and the garbage are thrown away. Resilience.

Guest Post | Atty. Juan Luis Z. Carpio - A Mystic Rose for the King!

(By jlzc, November 24, 2018)
Exactly three months have passed since I had a mild M.I. On the eve of my birthday I was on the brink to eternally lie Together with the beloved departed enthralled on High. But The King has a different mission for me than now to die.
Why others have to go on and others stay on, a mystery still. Dreams and choices we make or a higher design to fulfill? What lies ahead we could only surmise and deign to be blessed, With patience, perseverance and unlimited generosity of heart!
In 2018 in support of the clergy and consecrated persons we labored. A wounded heart renewed, what yearnings shall now be favored? Facing my golden year 2019 dedicated by the Church for the youth, Perhaps greater compassion for the emptiness that we seek to soothe.
On this eve of the Solemnity of Christ the King, an offering I chose. To give all gold with a heart as tender and mystical as the Rose!

Ascension Presents | Developing a Clear Vision in Life

Ascension Press and Ascension Presents in collaboration with Inspires give you this riveting magnum opus.‎..

Condensed Reflection by James Z. Carpio
Someone told me once that, "James, you will be a writer for the rest of your life". And, I thought to myself she's right. Why? There is no retirement age for writers.
The only thing that would stop me from being a writer is myself. If I decided to stop or an illness will be a hindrance to my career or I die.
I remember my own father who wrote poems for his Christmas cards.
His friends always looked forward to his poem each Christmas season.
Then, he stopped.
He stopped because his inspiration went away. My mother died.
As for myself, I do not know why I still write. The only reason I could think of is God has a Clear Vision in my Life and that is to keep on writing.
With God, I find it easy to write. He is my Inspiration.
Someone once told me to continue what I love to do. And, I told him that I love to write.
I guess I will continue t…

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