A Time to Pour Thoughts

Eccl 3:1-11

There is an appointed time for everything,
and a time for every thing under the heavens.
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to uproot the plant.
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to tear down, and a time to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance.
A time to scatter stones, and a time to gather them;
a time to embrace, and a time to be far from embraces.
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away.
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to be silent, and a time to speak.
A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace.

What advantage has the worker from his toil?
I have considered the task that God has appointed
for the sons of men to be busied about.
He has made everything appropriate to its time,
and has put the timeless into their hearts,
without man’s ever discovering,
from beginning to end, the work which God has done.

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"He has made everything appropriate to its time,
and has put the timeless into their hearts,
without man’s ever discovering,
from beginning to end, the work which God has done."

People who have been reading my entries in the past say that I am "wordy" when I write. The constant attempt at improving one's writing style is indeed a lifelong journey, and I do not hesitate to take pride at how God has allowed my writing to evolve.

First of all, I am not what people would consider to be an accomplished writer. I have long tried my best to get into competitions, but to no avail. I would often write what I feel my soul drives me to write, often using more than one clause within a sentence to explain a point. Like what I just did.

Unlike most children my age, I was brought up sheltered within the confines of our home, enriched by the books made available to me. My siblings may have engaged in play more often; I often found myself practicing my handwriting or reading a good book instead. Throughout my childhood people would point at me as though I was from another planet.

Well, not entirely. I did play childhood games. I loved playing doctor, playing the traditional Filipino games taguan (hide and seek), patintero, tumbang preso, jackstone and marbles even, but took things sourly in defeat. Which was more frequent than usual.

I guess the time I would have spent practicing the skills necessary to win those games went to reading books. About different countries. About inventions. About religion. About Japanese and Korean writing. About music. About flags and geography. About history. About journalism. About medicine.

But I read not for the sake of passing exams or being able to answer teachers' questions. I loved to read because I wanted to know more. And I wanted to be a better person with the things I had the privilege to read about.

Just this morning I presented a case on cough, while my case partner discussed acute epiglottitis, an inflammatory condition affecting the epiglottis, that movable flap of cartilage supposedly protecting the airway from choking while swallowing.

I was asked questions to which I only grimaced in a vain attempt to answer them.

It is during these kind of moments when I am sometimes doubtful about whether I should have chosen medicine or not. After all, I was about to be a computer science professional, and I had planned to become a specialist in the organizing of various forms of information on the web. God may only have the answers, but I am still confused why I have to take up medicine.

It wasn't really an expected option: I chose Computer Science as my major and had only passed an accelerated medical course intended for people who checked a small box on my application form to enter the University of the Philippines. It was such an unexpected outcome that my scores in the admission test happened to make it to the cut-off. "Are you interested in an accelerated program leading to Medicine?" it said.

Nonetheless, I am still wondering why I seem to have a different take on various seemingly ordinary things. I am still wondering why I seem not able to join when my classmates have fun in each other's company. And I am still wondering why most of the group conversations I have been with others only involve me as an observer. I have seen only a few people sharing the varied interests I have, and they're very far from reach.

But despite my seemingly dysfunctional social behavior, I love sharing experiences and passions to the people I find myself most comfortable to be with. Somehow I feel I am still blessed because God has at least given me the chance to meet people tolerant enough of my mood changes.

Often whenever I write something about my personality and my personal struggles to address my self-issues, I expect myself to cringe after reading these entries in a month or so. I often expect telling to myself how emotional I have become and how mushy I write.

People who are often faced with various problems are usually told to increase their social interaction. But people aren't always comfortable with the people around them to upgrade their erstwhile low level of interaction with them. One cannot force and expect a particular person to warm up with the people he wouldn't ordinarily deal with. Somehow this is my struggle. I find some people not particularly favorable warming up to.

Which leads me to the vocation. I feel that if I am really called to ministry, I have to learn being a brother to all around me. Just as how a doctor should be a doctor to all*.

It will take both skill and prayers to really pull this off. I guess it is not an excuse to be overly conscious of how one feels comfortable with the people around him--for no matter how seemingly unfriendly the people around me be, if ever I become a priest, I must be a priest to all. I must be an example, a holy one, to all.

My previous blog posts all dwell on this particular theme: changing oneself to serve God better and prepare for responding to the call. I pray once again that with this attempt at further getting to know myself, I may learn to do things the right way one step at a time.

Burn within us, holy fire, so that, chaste in body and pure of heart, we may deserve to see God.

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Saint Ignatius of Loyola, pray for us.

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*From an interview with a fraternity brod of mine, Dr. Ting Tiongco, a surgeon and social mobilizer from Davao. He just published his book Surgeons Do Not Cry, available at the University of the Philippines (UP) Press, chronicling his experiences as a UP medical student, hospital resident and young surgeon. Like most great people I have known personally, he is Jesuit-trained: finishing his elementary and high school years at the Ateneo de Davao and his pre-medical course at the Ateneo de Manila.

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Today is the feast day of Saints Cosmas and Damian, patrons of medicine. I pray for their intercession that they help us medical students and professionals increase our faith and perseverance in our journey towards becoming true healers with Christian character.