The dark says “Oh, you mean, God’s dead.”
I realize it’s there. But you know, just like a teacher responsible for a class of 20-something children, with that one child who seems to always have a joke or comment or a retort (is that a word?) of sorts, I’m learning that the dark side, or that unruly kid has a story he/she is covering up or a critical need that wasn’t met long ago.
So, dark side – God is NOT DEAD, but FULLY AND ACTIVELY LIVING. RIGHT NOW… as
I write this and as the snow falls on the ground outside. CREATOR LIVES.
Back to the subject matter: God’s Deed.
I was compelled to cook some palabok today. Palabok is the more fun counterpart of the famous filipino pancit. I write this because palabok IS a lot more fun. It has more colour. It has less veggies (I still like the veggies but sometimes salt and MSG and fats and meats are just SOOOO GOOOOOD).
[Playing: Don’t Apologize – Cheryl Fortune]
It has meats. It has seafood. It has eggs. Green onion. And…CHICHARON. Oh, squeeze the juice of kalamansi on top. And then to drink…the good ol’ Coca-Cola.
My mouth’s watering…and I already had two bowls of it!
You see what I mean? Palabok is a lot more fun. (I do have to say though – If you’ve got a list of allergies or dietary restrictions, palabok may not be the FUN for you)
[Playing: Never Alone – Tori Kelly]
Okay, let’s try this again: God’s Deed.
I’m not sure if you’ve read or guessed about the ever-growing distance that’s formed between my dad and I. But it’s there. Or more like… we operate (a lot of the times) on different wavelengths. Or… I speak a language and he speaks a different one… a language that was my life growing up but now realize (as an adult) that there’s some parts of that language that needs to … improve.
Despite this chasm, different wavelengths, different language (however you want to call it), I was given the task of packing some of the AWESOME palabok I made for lunch, and drop it off to my dad at his place of employment.
I tell you, Dear Reader, I was battling myself the entire time after I was graced with this task.
But I did it anyway. A white plastic bag containing: a green-lid tupperware containing the palabok, a sticky note that read “Have a Good Day, Dad,” a snack-bag filled with crushed chicharon, a can of Coke, a small bottle of water, and a napkin-wrapped fork – dropped off to my dad’s place of employment. (I could go on and on about that exchange, but I’ll save you the details).
It was the simplest and hardest task.
And I’m glad I did it.
[Playing: Only You – Bad Boy Remix — 112 ft. The Notorious B.I.G. & Mase]
I do have to admit, though, I balled like a fucking baby on my drive from my Dad’s place of employment to the girls’ school. I was trying really hard to keep it in.. and not to ruin my makeup.
But I just let it go.. opened the emotional dam.
How did it feel after?
After I was able to compose myself… or more like notice the song that was playing as I made that Northbound turn from Burrows to McPhillips, I chuckled…
A piece of Art by Jessica Reedy was playing:
[Playing: Put It On The Altar – Jessica Reedy].
God’s got a Supreme Sense of Humour. Trust me.
I think I’ll leave it at that.
I acknowledge Creator – without Him/Her/It, nothing is; I acknowledge the Canadian and Treaty 1 soil I and my people have been allowed entry and resources to live and prosper; I acknowledge our Elders who made their choices to leave their Motherland, sacrificed many aspects of their lives told and untold, and aimed to give the next generation better opportunities than they had; I acknowledge our various Peers from past and present who have taught us lessons, shown us skills, and provided us with Good Company; I acknowledge the growing generations after us who look to us for guidance, knowledge, and example – may you find and do what is GOoD.
Thanks for Reading, Dear Reader.
[dove][yellow heart][yellow sun]