There is a Japanese proverb which tells us we fall down seven times, yet get back up eight. (Much like my life motto: what won't kill you will only make you stronger. Thank you, Daft Punk/Kanye West.) 

At this particular moment in life, I am listening to Ed Sheeran's crooning of This. The lyrics are quite relevant, this is the start of something beautiful. Relevant because my rather timid life has taken an unexpected turn during the final quarter of twenty-fourteen, which I suppose may be dubbed aptly as the start of something beautiful.

I've spent ample time reflecting on these events, which felt like dominoes colliding one after the other, happening quickly, even before I could fully comprehend one event. 

First, the sheer lack of motivation experienced in Duzon due to twists and turns of events, which I like to refer to as The Downfall: mysterious demotions; change of leaders who preferred to strut like bosses (okay, just two or three people, maybe); lack of clear plans & direction for the future; hasty, not-carefully-thought-out decisions. I could go on and on, but the bottom line was, I've lost faith in the company which I loved. And when that happens, you also lose the motivation and enthusiasm to drive to the office daily. I guess it's safe to say things go downhill from that point on. 

So when the second event came my way, I did not hesitate to take on that God-given, (work)life-saving job offer on a Saturday morning (second of August). I remember, still vividly, sitting in front of the laptop in my brothers' room with the reading lamp switched on, spotlight on my face, tears and (disgustingly enough, but what a raw moment!) snot uncontrollably dripping from my eyes and nostrils. Add facial expressions of disbelief and gratefulness because this truly was an answered prayer! And how unexpected that was! (I am still amazed up to this day how God orchestrates the events in our lives.) I joyfully cried with my mother upon the announcement because what kind of parent wouldn't? Two days after the offer, on Monday (fourth of August), my first-ever resignation letter had been submitted, which carried both relief and sadness on its pages.

The third event came a day after I had rendered my thirty days: there was no time to waste as I had to start as soon as I could in the new office. As it is not unusual for me to simply keep to myself, the adjustment had been pretty good (though it does not warrant that others perceive(d) this similarly). I moved happily in my new world, and in this precise moment I still move just as happily, if not even more excited about all that is happening (in terms of work/the company). As mentioned over and again: I love what I do.

When it was time for the fourth event to occur, I wasn't quite prepared for it despite having had the time to do so (for months). Because truthfully, how does one prepare to wake up one morning and start living alone? The parents, whom I had all for myself for a couple of years (after both brothers flying off to the tiny island) had flown to said tiny island themselves. No more prepared meals upon waking up and after coming home from work; no more not needing to clean the house and finishing the laundry; no more free halo-halo at SM on random (most) afternoons. Still, I knew in my heart that this was a good event.

As if the fourth quarter of my twenty-fourteen did not already have enough roller-coaster loops intertwined with it, the fifth event was rather heart-shattering: Lola's death on the twenty-eighth of December, approximately two weeks after my parents had flown out of the country. I still tear up when I think about that event because I was the last person whom Lola had spoken to on this Earth and I'm glad we kept saying I love you to one another and I'll never forget that comforting smile, which lit up her entire face despite the aches and pains, when her bunso, my very own Tatay, was mentioned during our small talk, minutes before she uttered her last words, "Good night."  On the morning very morning of the 28th, I felt her cold, lifeless body with my very own hands. Just like that, her soul has flown out of her tired, 89-year old body. (The immediate events following Lola's death involved incidents not worth mentioning, except that God brought forth strength and courage and even more love from within me.)

And then twenty-fifteen arrived. Bless my Tito Boy & Tita Baby for the love, prayers, care, and constant check-up. The year started off on a happy note, and perhaps, if I'll be honest about it, a very slight underlying sense of poignancy. Most likely because it was the first Christmas and New Year without my parents and brothers present. But I remember feeling happy and hopeful on the first day of the year; it even rained, which I love, and automatically refer to as a blessing. 

It's amazing how half of twenty-fifteen has already come to pass, but it has been nothing short of, well, amazing. I like to view this year as a year of bringing out the best of myself, and okay, a year of preparation to become the ultimate role model, Mrs Proverbs 31 (verses 10-31, technically). Maybe that long-awaited moment is on the verge of occurrence, or perhaps I have still have a long way to go (and so much more to learn, no doubt). One thing is for sure, I can attest to this: God's timing is always perfect. There is no need to rush, no need to feel any sense of pressure of being "left behind". I am enjoying this period of God-led self-preparation because I know it will result to something wonderful, the kind of wonderful that goes beyond your expectations, leaving you with the inability to comprehend how amazing His Grace is. Who wouldn't want that?

Life's events are unexpected, as they should be. We stumble, we rise, we stumble, yet we rise again. What else is left to do but to keep moving forward, right? I am always left in awe, when I'm a few steps ahead and I glance behind me, as all I am able to utter is, "Thank You, Lord."