Month: January 2012

(Day 2 – Nicknames)

Mariding (aka Marimar/Marilou/Maria/Mariposa/Maring/Mareh/Jang) smiles and her eyes immediately crinkle into tiny slits. She’s the cheery friend who wants to bring a light mood to everything. She’s the girl who thinks and processes in song. She’s the melancholy writer who pours her heart out into letters and animated chronicles of her more than occasional (mis)adventures.

Madishu (aka Jeli/Madi/Mawi) knocks on her cousins’ door and returns the novel she borrowed two nights ago. She stops, crouching to pet the cat that has started to rub its head against her feet. The door opens and it’s her aunt who greets her. She grimaces as she gets her cheeks pinched but laughingly hands over the book and says goodbye and thank you.

Anggolik blinks as sunlight enters her room. She can hear her mother exercising in the living room. She can also hear her father heating up water in the microwave oven. She looks at her watch. 7am. Her brother is probably getting ready to fetch and send his girlfriend off to work. She snuggles deeper under her warm comforter. Five more minutes.

Pangging sits prim and proper but has her hair tied up in three ponytails. She’s well mannered and well behaved but has that streak for the uncanny. She finds herself predictably unpredictable, childlike yet mature, an old soul but with a heart of a youngster still.

I read these lines and find myself amazed at the complexity of humans, our souls, and our roles. We can be different things to be different people while remaining true to who we are. Still, privileged are those who see not just one aspect of our personalities but have an encounter with all.

But only one Person truly knows us. Only One has a knowledge and understanding of everything we are.

¹ You have searched me, LORD,
and you know me.
² You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
³ You discern my going out and my lying down;

¹³ For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

Psalm 139:1-3, 13-14

Yet parts of us still remain undiscovered. But upon looking into the heart of our Maker, upon asking Him what was in His mind when He created us, it is then that we begin to truly discover.

¹ But now, O Jacob, listen to the LORD who created you.
O Israel, the one who formed you says,
“Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you.
I have called you by name; you are mine.”

Isaiah 43:1

We go by different names. Different people refer to us in different ways.

But only He can call us by our true name.

Are we brave enough to hear it? Are we humble enough to respond to it?

Hear Him. He is calling us by name.

(Day 1 – Introduction and 15 facts about yourself – I’m not sure if I came up with 15 but by my way of counting, I’m pretty sure I did.)

I could start this story by saying that I’m a renowned writer with hundreds of bestsellers under my name. But you would say that that’s an outright lie. I’ve never written a full-fledged book. And I have never published anything save for a few scientific journal articles and a huge number of blog posts. But haven’t you ever heard of “prophesying and declaring”? It’s when you proclaim something to be true, to be real, even though it may not be so at the present. Because you believe and know that it will be – in the distant or not so distant future.

So with that cleared up, let me start again.

I am a renowned writer with hundreds of bestsellers under my name.

I can see the about the author section in one of my books already:

Mari Anjeli B. Lubrica is an educator, web developer, and of course, storyteller.  She writes code but at the same time types out prose and poetry during her free time. She fell in love with writing at an early age and was known to have churned out very creative pieces during her primary school years. Her favourite piece, entitled “Stranded in the Middle of Nowhere”, is a fictitious tale about a nine-year-old girl who becomes separated from her family on a road trip to Central Australia. She inherited the writing gene from both maternal and paternal parts of the family. She believes, however, that the love for the literary arts was awakened and cultivated by all the reading she did in her younger years. She thanks her mother for forcing her to read classics (“Little Women” and “The Secret Garden” for example) early because, at the time, she was only interested in reading “Babysitters’ Club” and Roald Dahl books.

Mari also pens out songs when inspiration strikes. She mostly writes worship songs and is yet to write a love song that is not full of cheese and mush. Mari’s instrument of choice is the acoustic guitar. She was taught by the “School of the Holy Spirit” but she still doesn’t know how to read tablature. She probably needs formal instruction for that.

Other things about the author that the reader may or may not like to know is that she will eat anything put in front of her. Okay, maybe not anything. She will munch on frogs and crickets though. But she might have second thoughts when she’s served with a dish containing a big fried rat.  This proves that looks can be deceiving because most people will not assume her to be adventurous with food. But then most people’s assumptions are wrong because most would presume her to be quiet. Yet that would be wrong because on the contrary, when one is able to get her talking, she’ll talk, talk, talk, talk, and talk one’s ear away.

Talking comes in handy though because she loves to teach. She loves inspiring the youth and imparting knowledge that she knows to them. She also loves pushing the youth to become catalysts of change and has involved them (and herself) in several volunteer and outreach programs.

When she’s tired teaching the youth, Mari turns to educating kids. The author loves children and has taught Sunday School for several years before she retired from the profession. The profession, however, apparently hasn’t given up on her yet. She still interacts with kids. Truth be told, Mari sometimes prefers watching cartoons with them to hanging out and doing grownup things with adults.

 The last and most important thing that the reader should know about the author is that she loves Jesus. She trusts that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life and that no one can come to the Father apart from Him. (John 14:6) Because of the Cross, she has been redeemed and has entered a world full of abundant life. She believes that the invitation to life is also open to anyone who wishes to accept it and all one has to do is repent, confess, and believe.

I doubt that there’d be any publisher or editor who’d allow an “about the author” entry that long though. Five hundred and thirty words.

On second thought, that doesn’t seem too lengthy to me.

Because when you’re a renowned writer with hundreds of bestsellers under your name – the length of that section shouldn’t be a problem.

Diba? ;)

I’m going back to writing. Back to getting my creative juices up and running. Back to living out that intricate love affair with letters, words, phrases, sentences, and paragraphs. Back to doing this thing that I honestly, well, miss doing.

Over the past days, I’ve realized just how far back I’ve buried that desire to really write. I’ve apparently tucked it into the back pockets of my heart, forgotten about it, and let dust and lint gather all around it. How and why that became so – and forgive me for rhyming here – I truly don’t know.

But do you know what that feels like? To have something that you truly enjoy doing get so overlooked that even you would forget that that thing has been one of your greatest passions since the beginning of time? It leaves a strange feeling of emptiness, an unusual sense of ache in your heart. A friend of mine asked some time ago if I wrote poetry. I fell silent, trying to remember if I did. He took the words out of my mouth. “Oh. You used to,” he said knowingly.

I used to.

While it is true that I’ve apparently just shifted from poetry writing to song writing (and I’ve forgotten that songs are still poems), I still can’t get over the fact that I was only able to answer him with that uncomfortable silence. What if he had asked me if I wrote stories and the like? Would I be able to bear it if my answer would turn out to be the same silence and the same “I used to” feeling would in turn linger in the air?

I used to write.

No way is that going to happen.

My desire to write has been rekindled. The fire has now returned. I’m going to start writing seriously from this point on – I’m starting to see those books again and I’m beginning to visualize all the touched lives once again.

I’m starting with this. It’s a 30 daw writing challenge shared by Kay Four but I’m being flexible and won’t necessarily stick to writing every day for the next thirty days. But I will write whenever possible. And I will finish the thirty items on the list. And after this, I’ll write more things and take on other challenges as well. Oh. And I’ll try to keep it interesting as well, flexing up these literary muscles that I have long underused.

Who knows, by the end of the year, I might even get a book done.

Our senior pastor released a word that this 2012 is our year to build. I agree with him wholeheartedly.  There are several important things that I am set on building this year and this – the art of writing – is one of them. I’m ready to face the empty spaces head on with a trowel in one hand and a sword in the other.

So here I come, trowel in one hand and a pen – the writer’s sword – in the other.