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Name: Jaycee Angeline C. Lorenzo Student Number: 2013-19803 Paper 1 Personal Narrative Essay Prof. Miren Morales

Comm1 Degree:

MHA

Date: August 22, 2013 _ BS Physical Therapy________

Last Day of Summer I was a dedicated Protestant until the day I started to explore new choices. Choices that were long before laid out in front of me, just waiting for me to notice it. Well for starters, I woke up just like on any other Sunday, with the waft of breeze carrying our neighborhoods distinct smell, of leaves rustling and playing with the wind, of the clucking of chickens and the sounds of early risers cleaning and rummaging through their things, awakening me from my sleep. But our house was eerily quiet, just like how it has been for the past couple of years or so on every Sunday. Nevertheless, if you would listen carefully, you would probably hear the humming of the refrigerator or the thumping of electric fans, but no noise were created by its residents. Well, besides the occasional snoring from my little sister, our family members were sleeping like the dead. Perhaps I shall convey to you the reason behind this, of our unspoken rule, of Sunday being the official rest day, therefore garnering me the allotted time to reflect and just think peacefully by myself. And as usual, I was the first one who was up; I rubbed my eyes to see clearly and stifled a yawn. I at least had another half hour before someone else wakes up. Same old, same old, just another peaceful Sundaywho knew that today would be the particular day I would actually change my view of the world as I know of it? I went out of bed still dazed and abscond to the kitchen to forage for food. I was in the middle of deciding between Yakisoba and pancakes when I heard the lucid footsteps of my mom heading down the stairs. Hearing her approach, she broke of my concentration and reminded me that Iindeedpromised to agree to attend one youth assembly of their church. I grunted a yes back and turned with no more than a glance then proceeded to cook myself some pancakes. Well in case you were wonderingnoI am not holding a grudge towards my mother for making me attend the assembly. Weirdly enough, it was by my own will that I decided to do so. But you should also know for a fact that I am not exactly a morning person, giving me just the enough alibi for my actions. But something inside me tells that that is not a reason enough to snap at my mom, so turning around to face her, I murmured a soft sorry. In turn, instead of heeding a lecture about being disrespectful to elders, mama just hugged me and kissed my forehead. Those simple acts she doesthat loving gesturemade me remember why I really loved my mother. The mother who knows me so well, through my strengths down to my weaknesses, yet still accepts me as that of her own.

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After that heartfelt moment at breakfast, I ascended to my room and ransacked through my cabinet to find a pretty, yet appropriate outfit for the event later. The day breezed by like any other, of us eating, the occasional small talks within the table , the annoyingly constant bickering among siblings, and the exhausting job of tryingand failingto put the little ones to sleep. Now heading back to my room, I felt consumed and sleepy. I flopped down on my soft inviting bed and tried to get some rest, but of course, not after making sure that I had set my alarm for later. Awakening to Ed Sheeran singing Lego House, I noted that it was already 5 in the afternoon, giving me barely one hour to get my sleepy self ready. I hurried to my bed side table and got my bathroom necessities then proceeded swiftly to bathe. Secured in the relaxing atmosphere I always stumbled upon whenever bathing, I let my thoughts flow freely, one after the other. Wondering about how the assembly would go, would I just keep to myself , or attempt an awkward conversation with whoevers unlucky enough to sit with me, the new girl? Defenitely a lot of what-ifs, and there is only one way to find out. I briskly walked out of the bath tub, carefully so not to slip, and found myself inside the comfort of my room trying to wear the clothes I have chosen earlier. Prim and ready, I looked at myself in the mirror to check if everything was set, modest pink tank top tucked under a floral printed skirt cascading just to my knees, a gold belt added over it, plus a green cardigan completing it, after securing my hair in a twisted bun, I was ready to go. As I began to descend the stairs, I caught sight of our dining room set-up in a way that could only mean one thing: my relatives were coming for a visit. I was outraged, why did anyone not tell me they would be coming? I would not have agreed to go to this stupid assembly, I would rather have spent time with cousins I grew up with than with mere strangers. But as if coming back to my senses, I suddenly remembered that my relatives were known for their frequent unannounced visitations. Calling two or three hours before their arrival and making our grandmother hastily prepare for the intended feast does not exactly give them plus points, but hey, I will gladly take up any time they could give. At that point I would willingly stayed behind and just let ate Belen, our house keeper that was already a part of our family, go on and attend the event without me. Summer was ending and time with my cousins were precious now that it was limited. You see, we all grew up in one house not until six years ago, when the siblings of my father decided to move to Taguig, leaving our grandparents, and us, here in Makati. Three years after, my father began watching television shows from Ang Dating Daan. He was influenced by my grandparents, but was first of the family to really follow the teaching of the religion. He stopped attending our Protestant church, as he said that he could not go back to the wrong preachings anymore. That went on for almost a year, until my mother saw the light of

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my fathers religion and stopped attending as well. Together, they seeked different Locals or Branches of the Church of God nearby, attended their expositions, went to the Indoctrination sessions and were eventually baptised. That left ustheir childrenconfused about our own religion. They encouraged us to attend worship services but made it clear that they did not want to force us in doing so, because it appears that free will is important in their religion. Sometimes, I would attend masses in our old church just to meet and catch up with my cousins. Due to my parents recent conversion, going there was hard since travelling without a car was surprisingly tiresome. Attending became harder and harder until I just gave up and succumbed to my parents hope: that I would see the truth. At first I only went to their worship services every Sunday, but as time went by, I also began joining them in Thanksgiving masses on Saturdays. I did what I think would please my parents, I sacrificed my time and followed the dress code needed which was modest apparel, meaning shirt and a long skirt. As my attendance became regular, I learned things other religions did not dare to teach, and soon, admired the institution and its members. All of these came back to me as I reminisced the events of the past. I indeed admire the religion, but something was lacking, perhaps a force that will give me the enthusiasm to willingly be a part of it. And right now, that enthusiasm is definitely lacking. I would tell ate Belen to go on without me, I strided the remaining steps and crashed directly into my mother. She smiled to me and told me that she was glad I finally gave the Youth Assembly a chance. Her eyes were filled with warmth and hope that I did not have it in me to break her faith. So I took the other optionI went to the assembly. Arriving just on time, I was dazed the program had not yet started. Knowing that these people were following God loyally, I assumed that they were uptight and would strictly implement rules. But I was wrong, devoting yourself to God did not make you any less than a person. You would still make mistakes, the only difference is that you would ask for forgiveness and try to make it right. As if on cue, the band began taking up the stage and apologized for the long wait. Wow, a band, if anyone told me that this was gonna happen, I would have bet my long hair to contradict it. Just then, a familiar man took that exact moment to sing Ang Huling El Bimbo by Parokya ni Edgar. The room filled with a soulful voice narrating and including us in a tragic story, leading most of the audience to tears. Memories and sadness of the song was so tangible I could almost taste it in the air, like it was leading me closer to the circle. The circle I once percieved as impenetrable, seems to be opening up, encouraging me to take the little step to formally be a part of it. As I inched a little closer, just a little closer, the spell was suddenly broken as the band changed the song into a cheery one. It was about a man who got more loyal and untouchable as different challenges came along. The upbeat tempo seemed to have synchronized with my heart,

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and soon, I was longing to be the man the song was talking about. To have a vast amount of faith to face anything, for the sake of Gods name; to remain untouchable to others scarring opinions; and to be free of the puissance withholding me from openly serving God. As each of the songs came to pass, different singers with different messages, they touched a part of my heart longing for so long to soar and explore the greatness of the sky. Making me feel an emotion long forgotten, hope. After jamming, games were played where the audience were divided into two. All the games required the immense cooperation of the group, which I would totally say worked for my benefit, gaining myself new friends and spreading the spirit of competition. The first was Pinoy Henyo with a twist, limiting it only to words found in the bible. I was just starting to get the hang of the game when another one started. By this time, without crossing the awkward conversation, I have acquired a new friend, and finally felt that I had a place in here. Hand in hand, we faced the next challenge masked as a game. The objective was to carry a pail full of watertied intricately with ropes of complex looking positionsto the other side of the room without spilling much. It seemed simple in theory, but was really hard to do in application. In the end, our group lost for reasons I could not comprehend, but in reality, I came as the biggest winner of all that day. I attained passion, empathy, wisdom, the sense of belonging and my faith back. Games are challenges in life that differ from one person to another, depending on how they take it. The right amount of seriousness may lead to success, while too much of it leads to stripping away the supposed fun in ones journey. Many choices have come and gone with time but one thing I learned is that it is never too late to decide fighting back. With new courage and a friend to accompany me, I strode to the table of busy people eating and took in the scene. They have spread banana leaves to serve as plates and no one was using a utensil of any kind. Looking at the joyous cluster of diverse yet contented people, hearing the buoyant laughter and glee conversations sharing the enticing aroma of delicious food, I knew then and there, that these people would soon be my family. Happy thougths in my head, I gladly joined their feast knowing that in our house, another feast was going on. But unlike earlier, I wanted to be here because I chose it to be. Each one of them welcomed me not only to the festivity, but also to their hearts. Many pictures were taken that day, that if I were to show you, would convey the happiness radiating through me. Gone was the selfishness, anger and atrocity. I took in the familiarity of the room and wondered how I have never noticed the comforting aura it enunciated before. The confidant walls had me unconsciously assert that this day would undeniably be my last carefree summer day. For I would be passionately dedicated to walking thyself with my God in the days to come.