CONVERSATION WITH THE OTHER SON

Yesterday's gospel is about the Prodigal Son.  You know how it goes - rebellious son makes an advance claim on his inheritance, squanders it in a foreign land, comes home and ask forgiveness, Dad throws a party.  What the parable does NOT say is that, amidst all the fanfare, the prodigal son wanted so badly to leave the crowd and talk to the one whom everyone else had forgotten – the other son.  The one who remained faithful.  The one who stayed behind.  He wanted so much to tell him of the regret.  Of the scars that will never go away.  Of the wasted time that is forever lost.  This post is about the brother-to-brother conversation that never happened but should have.  Words of love from the prodigal one, spoken from the heart, to the other son.

1.  Appreciating that you have everything is difficult unless you've experienced having nothing.  I get it.  Father may have said "Everything I have is yours".  But you couldn't see it.  I know why.  I, too, was blind to the riches of my Father.  Until I had to get on all fours, just to share a meal in the mud.  The three little pigs are overrated – they are actually smelly, noisy and have no table manners.  And in that pig sty, when I had been reduced to nothing, that was my moment of epiphany.  Life with Dad is heaven (literally) compared to this.  With Him I had everything.  Dear brother, open your eyes to all that Father has given you.  Hop on a camel and take a tour of his granaries, pastures and hordes of gold.  Bring a lot of water for the trip, as it will be a long one.  Mark my word, halfway through the tour, you will return home and tell yourself that indeed, Father CAN give you everything.  Just ask.


2.   Envy the home, not the homecoming.  You think that being away from Dad is cool?  Just look where I ended up.  Sure, the pictures I uploaded showed me having the time of my life.  But that's all they were - pictures.  None of them showed the secret ache in my heart to go back home.  You envy me now, brother?  But this is just a party.  Would you still envy me if I told you that nothing in this world would ever give me back those years I spent away from you?  Would you still envy me if I showed you the scars from the beating of my cruel masters, and they will forever remind me of the pain?  Would you still envy me if I told you that I am haunted by memories of a past I cannot change?  Envy me not, brother.  This homecoming? It's just a party.  But Father's word to you that "You are with me always"?  I would give everything I have just to hear Him say those words to me.  But those words are forever yours and yours alone, and only because, you decided to just stay home.


3.  Celebrate.  You didn't think I heard you grumbling, did you?  About being the obedient one and yet not even a goat was roasted for you and your friends?  Do you know how ridiculous you sounded out there?  Have you seen Dad's herds lately?  You could have a frickin party every night!  Question.  Did you ever ASK him for a party?  Look at me and answer the question.  Gees, you might be the good son, but you're not very smart.  Father wants to celebrate with you - every day, every night, every minute!  This robe?  It's not even my color.  These rings are a size too big and the sandals are a size too small.  Dad had to whip up this shindig and didn't have a lot of time to prepare.  But you, you had all the time and opportunity to party with Father while I was away, but you didn't.  But it's not too late.  Start now.  Party with Dad. 


4.  Smile more.  Ok, so you served the Father and not once did you disobey His orders.  Was one of his orders not to smile?  Even before I left, your smiles were scarce.  Do you know that one of the reasons I left was because you were always so angry with me?  You kept looking at what I wore, what I did, what I didn't do, etc.  Maybe if you paid less attention to me, and started looking at how great YOUR life is for a change, you would have more to smile about.  Father never threw parties for you because you were always so serious.  Smile, brother!  If I were a man who had everything, I would be laughing all day!               


I, the Prodigal Son, never got the chance to talk to my brother, so I hope he's reading this.  Brother, I dedicate this post to you and others like you, who think that staying home and being with the Father has lost its meaning, its purpose, its joy.  You who are tempted to think that evil is more fun, and envy those who have taken that route.  Trust me, that path leads to death;  I just got out in time.  Ask, and you shall receive.  Knock and the door will be opened.  Go ahead.  Father's waiting.

Note to self:  At noon mass tomorrow, ask for a party.  And for Tito Benny Albano, your party has just started.     

GOING ON THE UN-DIET

I know, I know, there is no such word as un-diet.  In fact, any nutritional regimen, whether to lose weight or to gain it, is referred to as a diet.  But since the term is usually associated with the excruciating deprivation of food, I will refer to my weight-gaining program as the un-diet.

One of the side effects of the kidney illness I suffered from 2006 to 2010 is a form of anorexia.  I had lost my desire for food and for eating.  Nothing, not even a no-holds-barred treat in any of my favorite restaurants, could motivate my palate.  Post-surgery, I had dropped to a mere 94 pounds (41 or so kilograms, if you are using the metric system), just 4 pounds away from my wedding day weight.  Next to taking the residual antibiotics from my hospital confinement, the second most resounding instruction I received from all my attending doctors is GAIN WEIGHT.

So, much to the envy of my sisters and friends, I went on an un-diet.  Unlike the starving diet-holics around me, I on the contrary had to binge on everything and anything that would tip the weighing scale in my favor.  I defied the norm of pinching calories, and instead indulged myself in gustatory experiences limited only by my imagination (chicharon Cebu and root beer float, steak with mashed potatoes, with lechon sisig for dessert).  And in the course of undertaking the un-diet program, I asked myself - in our culture and society today, why have we gotten so used to depriving ourselves of the delicious and satisfying?  When we say "guilty pleasure", have we actually convinced ourselves that feeling good is a bad thing?  In withholding our desire for food, have we accidentally put our minds, hearts and spirits on a diet as well?

1.  Carbo-loading.  Rice, bread, pasta.  Our bodies are designed to metabolize these carbohydrate-rich foods to generate energy for all of our bodily activities.  We can compare carbohydrates to the fuel (petrol to the British) that we fill up our vehicles with if we want to go places.  Similarly, without carbohydrates as fuel, our bodies cannot energize the physical and mental demands of life.  Without energy, we cease to live.  We cannot give if we do not take.  We cannot teach if we do not know.  We cannot share blessings if we are too ignorant, or too proud, to receive them.  Carbo-loading.  Fueling our minds and bodies with the nourishment that comes from food, supplements, exercise, family, friendships, books, movies, prayer - clusters of energy we can draw on everyday to live our lives with joy, enthusiasm and positive anticipation.

2.  Feeding on the fat - again, in the science of metabolism, our bodies first burn the carbohydrates for energy.  If this runs out, the body moves on to what's next in line - fat.  Low-carb or no-carb diets flourish on this principle - that a body devoid of carbohydrates will have no choice but to burn the stored fat.  FAT is the enemy, fat is the target, fat must go.  Going on the un-diet made me see and appreciate all the fat in my life.  People who know me are probably saying "You?  Fat?  Hello!?!  If you're fat, what do you call me?!?"  Hold on,  I'm not talking about body fat.  I'm talking about the excesses that I keep in storage, saving them for the so-called "special occasion" or "if we have important guests".  The expensive perfume that I will spray on only if I am going to a party.  The clothes that I bought to wear for attending seminars in posh hotels or meetings with VIP clients (some of these clothes I bought months ago are actually still in the paper bags they came in, promise!).  The Noritake dinnerware set that I received as a wedding gift close to 20 years ago - plates, cups and saucers that I have been saving for THE fine dining experience.  In the end, a lot of the perfume had evaporated or thickened to a gooey oily consistency which I think is what happens to perfumes that never leave their boxes.  Many of the clothes had gone out of style.  The Noritake? Sneezing from dust allergies as we speak.  All that fat to burn.  What am I waiting for?  Why did it take this long for me to understand that every single day that God allows us to spend with the people we love IS actually a special occasion?  That every client IS a Very Important Person(can I not count this client who was really rude to me last Saturday? Pleeease?)?  That every meal with family or with friends is a dining experience that is so FINE?  You know the other thing that diet books don't say about fat?  It's that fat warms our bodies and heals body parts that have been injured or are not well.  Warmth and healing.  How could I have allowed myself to miss out on these for so many years.  Fat is beautiful.

3.  Milking it.  The last fictional novel I read before being wheeled into surgery is a book entitled Plain Truth by Jodi Picoult.  The background of the story is an Amish community where every meal that is put on the table is grown or raised in the vast farmlands the Amish families call home.  And the first farm task of the day is always the milking of their cows.    This routine does not end until mama cow has no more milk to give, for that day anyway.  Milk.  It's also a verb, you know.  On-line Merriam Webster defines it as "drawing advantage from to an extreme degree".  Relishing every moment.  Squeezing all the good that every experience has to offer.  Watching movies till the closing credits are over.  Taking every chance I get to be with my parents, listening to their stories, even the ones I have heard for a godzillion times (Dad, remember this Filipino guy who died helping you during the Japanese time; Mom, how all the sweets in your family had to be divided by eight, because you had to share EVERYTHING with your 7 siblings - yup, those stories).  Having coffee with a friend who will soon be migrating to Manila.  Milking it.  So that in the end, I would have no regrets about missing opportunities to love.

4.  Sugar Rush.  This is what they call the sudden surge of energy that one gets when eating sweets.  The thing about the sugar rush, though, is that the energy boost is quick but short-lived, Soon after, there is a rapid energy meltdown and the hyperactivity metabolizes itself into lethargy.  Parents of young children avoid giving them sweets in the afternoon because they anticipate the insane rowdiness that will die down into an ill-timed nap.  They keep away the good thing because they see the bad thing just around the corner.  Sadly, I too avoid the sugar rush because I am so afraid that it is actually just a prelude to future disappointment.  Whenever a sweet thing comes into my life, I look past it and scan the horizon for the oncoming disaster.  I don't take the time to luxuriate in sweet moments, because I am already gearing up for the meltdown.  Surely, I tell myself, life cannot be sweet for very long; surely, the bitter aftertaste is just up ahead.  Looking back now, I get this sinking feeling in my heart about missing out on what could have been the sweetest minutes of my life.  But instead of dwelling on those times that are forever lost anyway, I will from now on keep a keen eye on all the candy-coated moments coming my way and just suck on that sugar.  I WILL bask in the exhilarating feeling of jumping into the pool with my clothes on, and NOT worry about the laundering nightmare afterwards.  I WILL buy knee-high boots and wear them with a summer dress, and NOT worry about the snide remarks that we live in a tropical country, blah blah blah.  It's called a "rush" because there is no time to waste.  Slowpokes get nothing.                                    

Today, I am back to my fighting weight of 110 pounds.  My teenage daughters have since inherited the tiny, tiny shirts and skinny, skinny jeans I had accumulated over my 4-year anorexic period.  And while savoring the un-diet program over the past 2 months, I have gained more than just pounds.  I have also learned one important allegory about life - it is a meal.  It can be as bland or as flavorful as we make it.  We can starve ourselves or indulge.  Eat up or go hungry.  The next one I'm having is on a Noritake dinner plate.

Note to self:  Ask my sister Jessette where to find a hot pair of knee-high boots.