[Backtracked: Oh yay I have posts in my drafts folder, look! Why I didn’t publish this at the time I wrote it, I don’t know. So yeah, here’s something I wrote sometime in November when I was in Sydney. Hee.]
God does have a flair for drama. He paints the Makati skies with a breath-taking sunset just when you start complaining about how awful your boss or your day is. He shows you a 500-peso bill stuck in the backpocket of your jeans, just when you realize that sweldo is still several days away and you don’t have enough lunch money for the week.
And then He answers prayers just when you start thinking that He’s already closed all doors.
In the past four years, I’ve gone through all sorts of phases in this quest — from excitement, anticipation, and “this is it” moments; to frustration and discouragement; even to the point of giving up.
But hey, Hillsong happened to me last night [November 16, that is]. And if you followed my blogs from day one, you’d know how much this means to me.
How great, how great is our God, indeed.
[Until we meet again, Hills. See ya soon.]
I miss a lot of things. I miss blogging what’s on my mind without worrying if someone will think that my posts are too icky or too unprofessional. (Fine, I miss blogging, period.) I miss pasting receipts, candy wrappers, and movie tickets on my journal, and trying to record moments in writing so I could easily look back.
I miss wandering aimlessly in a foreign place, getting lost, and figuring out my way back by counting hotdog stands. I miss listening to the sounds of a busy subway, and watching people walk their dogs in Central Park. I miss enjoying the sight a *real* cruise ship, and watching the sun set over Darling Harbor while munching on fish and chips with people you love. I miss taking pictures of everything and nothing in particular, and spending hours post-processing my shots.
And then sometimes, I miss myself. Which I used to think was bad. But now, in the course of missing myself, this whole picture of who I *really* am, and who I want to be becomes even more clear in my head.
Icky, all of this, sure. But hey, I’m not scared to be myself anymore. I’m 25 and life’s too short to worry about what other people think. From now on, that’s who I’m going to be — myself. And let me start by being reacquainted with the things I miss.
Oh hai, 2009. I think you and I are going to be good friends. I’m excited to get to know you. :)