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‘WHERE’S
the father of the baby?” the priest asked, a bewildered
look palpable on his face, as he was about to baptize
the baby.
“Father,
he just had to pass by for the balloons because the
supplier got sick and can’t deliver,” answered one of
the godparents.
“So,
where’s the mom?”
“Father,
she’s also on her way. She just had to check on the
party venue to see if everything’s fine.”
“Ayayay!
So what the hell are we doing here?” cried the priest
with disbelief. When the parents finally arrived about
an hour later, he gave them a good lecture on the
importance of the sacrament rather than the grand party
celebration.
This
cautionary story, which really happened, tends to play
back in my head as we have our son christened soon. For
a while back, we, too, were so busy preparing for the
event—the entire gamut of printing the invites,
delivering them, braving Divisoria for the giveaways,
and all that stuff—that we forgot about preparing
ourselves spiritually. But that’s excusable, we assure
ourselves; wouldn’t any first-time parents want to
prepare for their kid’s grand public debut? In the
process, however, we’ve overlooked the reason why we
wanted to bring our son into the Christian world: to be
able to raise our son as a spiritually enriched person,
for him to be kind-hearted, and see life and people with
a more compassionate point of view.
In this
day and age, working parents tend to compensate for the
lack of time by showering their kids with material
things. “If you squint a little, it would feel like
we’re in
Singapore,”
I tell my husband.
“You’ve
said that for the umpteenth time already,” hubby told me
while we were strolling along TriNoma a few weekends
ago.
“Oh, you
know, malls are the places to be with your family on
weekends, instead of at home; dining out is preferred
rather than cooking at home, and we’re starting to take
our shopping, especially the sales, so seriously,” I
replied.
“So,
what the hell are we doing here?” he groaned, as we made
our way through the crowd.
“It’s
50-percent off at this children’s store, and I’d like
our boy to see the outdoor garden right outside the
cinema area,” I shrugged my shoulders.
I swear,
my son looked up at me with his puppy-dog eyes and gave
me a mental telepathic message, “Ma, you intend to raise
me like this?”
Oh boy,
at the rate things are going, I suddenly shuddered at
the thought of my son asking for his mobile phone and
ATM at the ripe old age of five years old. Not a
far-fetched idea, mind you, as banks now are offering
credit and debit cards for your lucky teens.
I’ve
long resisted picking up Anna Quindlen’s A Short
Guide to a Happy Life (Random House, 2000), thinking
it’s not one of the Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist and
author’s major works. But I stumbled upon it at a time
when I needed some direction, and realized how equally
useful it was like her political essays and
commentaries; sometimes, we need to wield our bibles, or
our version of it.
She
writes: “Don’t ever forget the words on a postcard that
my father sent me last year: ‘If you win the rat race,
you’re still a rat.’
“Or what
John Lennon wrote before he was gunned down in the
driveway of Dakota: ‘Life is what happens to you while
you’re busy making other plans.’
“That’s
the only advice I can give. After all, when you look at
the faces of a class of graduating seniors, you realize
that each student has only one thing that no one else
has. When you leave college, there are thousands of
people out there with the same degree you have; when you
get a job, there will be thousands of people doing what
you want to do for a living.
“But you
are the only person alive who has sole custody of your
life. Your particular life. Your entire life. Not just
your life at a desk, or your life on the bus, or in the
car, or at the computer. Not just the life of your mind,
but the life of your heart. Not just your bank account,
but your soul.”
A
friend, whom we’ve asked to be our son’s godmother,
inquired, “You think he’ll also grow up to be an
artist?”
“I hope
so,” I replied. “We want to raise him as a sensitive boy
with soul.”
“Remember, even carpenters, doctors, engineers and
lawyers can have soul,” she said.
Of
course, of course. Spirituality doesn’t just happen.
It’s a long process that we need to work on with our
kids. “Look at the view, young lady, look at the view,”
a homeless man whom Quindlen met at a boardwalk advised
her, and they both stared out at into the blue ocean’s
vast view.
Look at
the bigger picture, I remind myself. Savor each day as
always a new day of getting to know my husband and my
son, and enjoying the daily journey with them. Do
something for the soul everyday, I add, do something you
truly like, such as browsing through a bookstore,
surprising your family with a nice dessert tonight, or
just cuddling your child on a rainy day and giving
warmth to each other. When you feel good about
yourself—when you get a life—you can touch and inspire
others, and show your child the art of soulful living. |
