The Beginning
It was my first day in Tanay Rizal. We drove early from Manila to reach Camp Capinpin and do my latest documentary about soldiers on training. I was very happy that my father, Mon Santos allowed me to observe the military way of life. My father is a good man. He raised me with much love every daughter will ever dream of. But it does not mean that he never scold me. He establishes in my young mind that true love is beyond those material things. The worth of it is not measure by simply pleasing the senses. As a daughter, I saw and understand what he means in loving me. He loves me enough to prepare me to be a responsible but mindful adult. Although he gave me freedom he made me understand that true freedom is not simply being of without limitations. It is liberation from the restrictions one have within oneself. That kind of limitation that holds one to learn, grow and find the truth of life. Yes, as a missionary who traveled to many places, my father taught me that living under the guidance of truth will make me free. It is not roaming around and seeing places. It is living and being with one"s self each day with open mind to accept who I am and be the best of whatever I can become. It is like traveling to every mystery of my being and discovering the richness of God"s goodness in me. Once, he compared me with a flower bud. He said, a bud is like our soul that awaits to spread its petals before the sunlight to cheer the eyes and be a sweet smelling to everyone who passes by. We are here to love and be loved. We live to love and share our uniqueness to our fellow men. And it is hurting nd saddening that many people cower in the dark sides of their minds because they were disenchanted by continuous trials. If we can only be our own bestfriend or our parent to ourselves, trials may not be that heavy to carry and too complicated to surmount. Yes, my father loved me as his own even if he merely adopted me 19 years ago.
My parents were both military officers and part of the medical corps.They died doing their mission while curing the wounded soldiers in the battlefield. The bomb was miscalculated and exploded to where it should not be. I was then left to the care of my grandmother who later on died due to old age. It was then my father Mon Santos took me. He said to me that he is grateful to my parents for having saved him and his co preachers way back in the mountains. The rebellious troops hostage them while they were doing their work as such. It is a long story to tell. I rather tell it by living my life and show what made me.
