The Happiest Hobbits

Truly, a gathering of grace — and the wedding of a lifetime. My Heart Is Overflowing These past few days have been a beautiful kind of whirlwind — the kind that leaves you breathless, grateful, and quietly in awe that so much love could fit inside such a short span of time. My youngest sister got married (yes – our Amazonian warrior, spoiled softie bunso!) and while part of me itched to immortalise it into words immediately, God was just unfolding blessings faster than I could catch them. . . . Filipino by heritage. UAE by childhood. Family forever. Right before and right after the wedding, the very people who witnessed my beginning — my Bestest and childhood friends, including my cousins who had moved to the USA — returned to my world once more. Full or mixed in heritage, we were kids of Filipino expats – born and raised in the UAE, growing up side by side, and united in memory. Seeing them again, some with their parents and spouses and children too, felt like time exhaled and wrapped...

Today, on my beloved father's birthday, I wanted to honour him in the most honest way I know: through story. This is the fuller version of my tribute: a journey through childhood, healing, faith, and grace…  and the story of how God brought both of us home to each other. Below is the full reflection — the one too long, too emotional, and too deeply personal for posting anywhere — but perfect for this quiet corner of my writing world. Growing up, I was the apple of my Daddy’s eye — until suddenly, I wasn’t. From being an only child, I became the eldest of four daughters – each new baby sister softer, sweeter, and easier to adore than the last. Our youngest especially — His perfect little photocopy. His face. His charm. His tiny twin. Naturally, she was extra special. And slowly, I faded. Or at least, that was how it felt in my sensitive child-heart. Daddy was not unloving. He was a doting father, a devoted husband, a public servant, and a humble man of great integrity an...

Tonight, we ended the day with something special – a gentle ritual of love that has become part of our family’s rhythm every year. With my parents and sisters, we have a family tradition we call a birthday salubong . No matter where we are in the world – Dubai, Dublin, Batangas, or travelling – five minutes before midnight in the Philippines, everyone jumps onto a virtual call. At exactly 12 midnight, we gently wake the celebrant, who sees us through groggy eyes as we all burst into birthday song with our own cakes from our own corners of the world, glowing with love. Because of the UAE-PH time difference, this happens at 7 PM Dubai time. We greet, we laugh, we send our love, enjoy a slice of cake, and then we let the celebrant go back to sleep. But tonight we added something new. I always read the girls a bedtime story; and this time I wanted to prepare our hearts to celebrate our birthday star more deeply the next day. We’ll honour him again tomorrow – in church, over a...

A reflection written from a Catholic heart ~ inspired by a quiet afternoon talk with my daughter about myths, motherhood, and how even the oldest stories can lead us back to God’s light . One lazy afternoon, my daughter and I were talking. Ate’s seven, and like me at this age, somehow already fluent in Greek mythology – their tangled loves, rivalries and family trees. I'd been quietly impressed and decided to challenge her. “Does Aphrodite have any children?” I asked, pretending not to know. She thought for a moment. “She does," she said finally, “but I just can’t remember the names.” Almost at the same time, I name the most well-known of the goddess' spawn, “Cupid,” while Ate blurted out, “Eros.” We laughed. Then I launched into explanation mode: “They’re the same: one Greek, one Roman.” That led to a guessing game (Zeus and Jupiter, Aphrodite and Venus, Ares and Mars!) and finally, her brow furrowed as she asked, “But why do they have different names if they’re the same?...

We never met, yet your light reaches us all the same.  Somehow, I know you through the people you loved... in the laughter you passed on, the love you built, and the stories that still make their way to our dinner table. Happy birthday in heaven, Papa.  We celebrate you, dili sa luha, but with gratitude – for a love that outlived time. This one’s for you. A Letter to Papa in Heaven Dear Papa, I never had the honour of meeting you, but I’ve come to know you — in stories, in laughter, and in the way your love continues to live through your family. They say you were palabiro , masayahin , makulit...  the kind of father who brought joy wherever you went. You had a gift for turning ordinary moments into memories, for bringing lightness to the heaviest days. Mamila, they say, was the strict and serious disciplinarian — though now she’s known as our living beacon of calmness, generosity and grace. I imagine how perfectly you must have complemented each other: your la...

I still remember the last time I was heartbroken and  painfully  single. It was an ordinary Sunday in our small parish in Fujairah – a humble, one-story building that’s been home to our local Catholic community for years. The place was packed as always, with familiar faces in familiar pews; mostly families I’d grown up seeing every week.  At the altar, the priest lifted the Heavenly Host as he had done countless times before. He broke it in two, then into smaller pieces – the sound barely audible over his words echoing Jesus’ blessing from the Last Supper, yet somehow resounding through the soul. A soft, sacred crack that lingered in the air like a prayer. Then I was standing in line for the Holy Eucharist, facing the priest as he held up a fragment – uneven, imperfect, yet utterly holy. I said the only word that could hold all that moment meant: “Amen.” It means  so be it . It means  I believe . It means  even this – even...