
25/05/2025
๐๐๐ง๐๐๐ง | ๐จ๐ป๐ฐ๐น๐ฎ๐ถ๐บ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฟ๐
As the semester winds down to a close, time slows along with it. The days drag on, the campus stillsโfinally resting after close to five months of work and noise. The central parking, once filled with cars and motorcycles, brought alive by horns and the hum of enginesโnow bare and empty, blanketed by the clean breeze and rustling of leaves. The long lines in the store and cafeteria are also no moreโreplaced by merely one or two students trapped in the same fate as me; unable to leave and relish in the warmth of home.
โ๐ฟ๐ ๐ ๐ ๐ช๐ช๐ฌ๐?โ
My roommateโs voice shatters the silence of the room. She just finished packing her stuff, not only for vacation, but also because she would be moving out.
โ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ ๐ข๐ช๐ฃ๐, ๐ฃ๐๐ญ๐ฉ ๐ฉ๐๐ข๐ ๐ฃ๐๐ก๐๐ฃ๐.โ
Next time na naman.
Distracting myself, I scroll through social media as the rustling of baggage and conversation behind me flows. It must be nice. But alas, maybe God has other plans. The door shuts close and silence wraps me in a taunting hug, suffocating and unsettling. The room felt too big yet too cramped; the four corners of the wall closing in as I stared motionless at the ceiling.
Parang bago naman nang bago.
Refusing to succumb to the all-too familiar feeling of self pity, I chose to leave my room, opting to lounge in our worship hall instead. My shift ended early anyway, Fridays afforded me that comfort. At a loss with what to do, I decide to call my parents, knowing full well how the conversation will go.
โ๐๐ค๐ง๐ง๐ฎ โ๐๐๐ , ๐๐๐ฃ๐๐ ๐ข๐ช๐ฃ๐ ๐ช๐ก๐๐ฉ ๐ข๐๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐๐ฅ๐๐๐๐ก๐ ๐จ๐ ๐๐๐ข๐ ๐ฃ๐ ๐ฅ๐๐ข๐๐จ๐๐๐ ๐ข๐ค. ๐๐๐ข๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ ๐ฌ๐ค๐ง๐ ๐ข๐ค?โ
โ๐๐ ๐๐ฎ ๐ก๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฅ๐ค ๐๐, ๐จ๐๐๐ก๐๐ฉ ๐ก๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฃ๐๐ข๐๐ฃ ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐จ๐ฎ๐ค๐ฃ. ๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ฃ๐๐ฉ๐๐ฅ๐ค๐จ ๐จ๐๐๐๐ฉ ๐ฃ๐๐ข๐๐ฃ.โ
Within the small screen of my phone, distance was easily conquered. And in between the static and lag, conversations of love and care still flowed. In my motherโs blurry appearance, I see the sacrifice hidden in her unkempt hair, the labor under the sun in the towel around her neck. The soft glimmer of hope behind her tired eyes. In my motherโs laggy video, I see the love that keeps her going. The trust that despite our circumstances, soon, in Godโs plan, I too will be able to come home.
โ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ ๐๐, ๐๐, ๐ ๐ก๐ค๐ซ๐ ๐ฎ๐ค๐ช! ๐๐ฃ๐๐๐ฉ ๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ค ๐๐๐ฎ๐๐ฃ ๐ก๐๐๐.โ
My own reflection stares back at me as the call ended, the silence returns, and the uneasy itch scratches at the back of my mind. I sigh, returning to the room I am forced to call home. Now used to its cold emptiness, I turn to my own warmth for comfortโto His promises and provision. So as I walk to PIC for vesper, I carry in me a quiet prayer of reassurance. Of faith that reminds me that I am not alone; that even as the students filter out of the campus, and as the beds in my room get vacant, God will always be with me.
๐๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐บ ๐๐ฐ๐ณ๐ช
๐๐ณ๐ต ๐ฃ๐บ ๐๐ช๐ณ๐ฌ ๐๐ข๐ฎ๐ข๐บ