... and I'm back. Lets get this blog out of the dusty storage bins and bring it back to life.
What better way to come back than by writing about coming home - and paying tribute to people who matter most - my parents.
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We moved into our old/ new home recently. Old, because we
lived here some years back before moving somewhere else outside the city. New
because we've come back after so many years and as a gift my parents gave the
place a new look, adjusted the layout of the old structure and gave it new
dimensions. My husband and I are basking in the new paint, and the
significantly greater space. More importantly, we have come home to a place we
call our own.
It is not an impressive structure. No architect was involved in the designing.
No fancy fixtures. No big construction. It is not something that could be
featured in magazines. It is a mix of concrete and galvanized iron, bits and
pieces of materials brought together, almost like a mosaic of the old and new. The
frontage is the remnant of what used to be a sari-sari store - with galvanized
sheets covering the grills, and a foldable door converted into a wall.
I walk around, opening the doors, going up and down the small, wooden spiral
staircase that didn't use to be there. I couldn't help but well up with emotion
feeling the love that my parents have for me in every corner and crevice of
this house. Here I am, already an adult, supposedly capable of earning my way
to have my own properties and yet, here are my parents - bona fide senior
citizens - giving what they could to show their affection. This house was
literally built with their own hands. My father is a carpenter and along with
my ever entrepreneurial mother, they held the hammer that placed a nail in
place, carried a shelf to put into position, and held the broom that swept the
dirt to get the place ready and clean. To expand the floor area, they gave up
their own private space. They did not tell us about the renovations nor asked
for money that was necessary to see it through. It was meant as a surprise.
Surely they have used a portion of whatever savings they had, and my brothers
have certainly chipped in one way or another. My youngest brother willingly
gave the tiles which could have been used for his own house. Thank you my dear brothers - older sister will try to make it up someday, somehow.
Just the thought of how much a labor of love
this gift is makes me cry with gratitude. Thank you Daddy and Mama - for this
precious gift - an expression of your great love for us. We could not ask for
more, and pray to God that He would allow us the opportunity to bless you back.
We love and honor you!
“Honor your father and mother. Then you
will live a long, full life in the land the Lord your God is giving you.” - Exodus
20:12 (NLT)
