These past years I struggled to write as much as I wanted and needed. The words didn't flow like it used to, there was too much resistance and not enough drive. I loathed how I sounded, and didn't felt like anything I wanted to share was valid or interesting enough.

As of now, I have 99 unpublished entries, I do not plan to publish them in the future but I read them from time to time. They remind me of my past sorrows and victories.

It's late at night, and the thunderstorm is raging outside the house. The rainy season slowly introduces itself. I used to love summer more than winter, but as I've gotten older I've learned to love the rain and how it makes coffee shops all the more inviting.

The sea, the sun, and the road no longer excite me. They are only vague memories of my youth, the ones I will always wish I could go back to. As my friends moved on with their adult lives, and started focusing on building their dreams, I was left in our small town, barely hanging on to what once was. I have no bitterness in all this, this was my choice, the decision I thought was best for myself, and it is. But making the best decisions doesn't mean it will lead to perfect situations.

But it is true, the difficulties we face make us better. I'd like to say that after so much struggle I am the most confident person I know, my confidence is not perfect, but it is strong. I believe in what I am capable of, I know my worth and what I deserve, and wouldn't settle for anything less. I cannot allow myself to become mediocre at anything, I strive to be excellent, to be genuine, to be creative. If it weren't for the rejections in the past and even in the present, I wouldn't be who I am today.

You see, growing up I was never the best at anything. I wasn't beautiful, I didn't have an angelic voice, my hair always curled the wrong way, and I had very few friends. Even now, I am not loved by many. I used to care about this so much, used to want people to like me, to support me, and to love me. After so many years of wanting that, I realized that I should just focus on the handful that loves me genuinely.

I still feel out of place and unwanted most of the time, but my feelings are not my identity. That's the greatest lesson I've learned this past year. Yes, my feelings are real and it is valid, but it is not IDENTITY. My ''emotions'' shouldn't affect the way I view life, shouldn't affect my view of God, and shouldn't affect the way I view the people around me.

Learning this valuable lesson saved me a lot of tears.

And coming to terms with my personal issues has allowed me to become more productive and optimistic in life.

I woke up with a rock on top of my chest. Or at least, that's what it felt like.

Looking back, 2018 has been the most difficult year for me so far. Plenty of fear, and not much peace, plenty of sorrow, and not much joy, plenty of heartbreaks and not much taste of success. In the last quarter of 2018, I was desperate to excuse myself from the pity party I was about to invite myself in.

And so, I tried.

On the day of my 24th birthday, I got hired for a job in Manila, a place I loved to hate. The job wasn't my dream job, but it definitely was a stepping stone towards '''greater things''. I didn't have any plans of leaving my hometown, but one night in great frustration, and of wanting to belong to some place else, I sent my CV to different companies. The simple act was exhilarating, I personalized each cover letter, and hit the ''send'' button. I went to sleep thinking nothing would come out of it.

A week after, I found myself in a bus headed to Cubao. That same day I went home with the ''good'' news.

My family and I celebrated, but deep down I knew I was just running away.

Several days went by, I was given time to prepare for my relocation. I bought new clothes, new stuff, and started mentally preparing myself. Friends and family told me that this was ''good'' for me. That this experience will expand my horizons and that's what I thought too. But there was an inner struggle, somewhere in my heart I knew I was setting myself up for disaster.

But, who knows maybe I'm only thinking this way because I'm not brave enough? Maybe, I couldn't really step out of my comfort zone?

As the days drew near, the rock on top my chest kept getting heavier and heavier. And finally, on the day I was supposed to leave I broke down.

I didn't get on a bus, I didn't move to Manila.

In the days and weeks that followed, I was constantly reminded of my ''failure'' . I felt like the greatest loser in the world, a woman who was full of fear, a woman who didn't dare to cross the ocean. What happened? I used to be so brave.

Didn't I want this? Wasn't I looking for a place I could belong to? Didn't I say that I no longer find joy in this small town? Didn't I say I want to do something my family could be proud of?

I failed. I lost my chance, I will never live a good life. I will never be at peace.

I succumbed to the shame of my failure.

The enemy, took great advantage of the situation, and spoke lies after lies. I almost lost my identity, I almost forgot who I am, I almost lost my sense of purpose. But God, my Father, picked me up and reminded me that He had something in store.

Then, one Friday night last December, I stood in the midst of God's presence together with the youth of our church, the group of people I love the most. I watched them lift their hands in worship, I listened to them sing songs of praise. It was such a beautiful sight to behold! I would give up anything for more opportunities to join them in prayer and in worship!

And then I thought ''there's no place I'd rather be''.

And all along, I was right where I wanted to be.

Last week, my friend and I got to watch a movie. There was this scene where the guy told the woman
'Hindi mo magawa, kasi duwag ka!"
and the woman replied ''Yung duwag sayo, matapang na para sa akin!''

It was then that I understood, it wasn't because I wasn't brave, it was just that I had a different path I must take.

So where have I been?

I'd like to say that I've been to places, and that I've finally walked on water, that I have an impressive job and that I finally took the great leap of faith. But I really have not, at least in the way people expect it.

Instead, let me say that I've been in God's presence and in it I found my peace.

To whoever is reading this, I hope you are at peace right where you are. And if not, I pray that you encounter God's presence, and experience the kind of peace that surpasses all understanding.

Love,
Treesh

I held my camera with my right hand while I lifted my left hand in praise. I struggled looking through the view finder as water started to fill my eyes again. A young man was submerged in water and made a public declaration of faith. The old is gone and the new has come. I pressed the shutter and then the tears fell.

I have encountered the love of Christ, and continue to experience it day by day; and witnessing others encounter this same love brings me to tears. I've been such a cry baby. I pray to God that I will live my life witnessing baptisms and never lose the joy that swells up in my heart each and every time.

For the past 7 years, I have served in the youth ministry. I have jumped in praise, bowed in worship, and cried in prayer with many young people. I remember nights when we would stay up late listening to their stories and praying earnestly. I have seen many young people come and go, I have seen friends come and go, but I have remained passionate. Because I know that I live for these kind of days. "Is there any scene more powerful than seeing a soul get saved?" I tend to ask myself, and the answer is always no.

The past three days was spent in camp leading young people. My co-leaders talked about how fun it really is to lead young people, to hear their stories, to encourage them , to pray for them and to teach them. There really is something about the youth ministry, 7 years have passed but it felt like we are just getting started. I think of my Dad, who has spent over 30 years in church, and can only imagine how many souls he witnessed get saved. Hundreds? Thousands? I want to experience that too!

Serving in the ministry is not always easy, I've had my share of frustrations and sacrifices, but when I look back to the ultimate sacrifice Christ has done, these are nothing. I hope for the day when I'd be able to count everything as loss and no longer think that I am sacrificing anything at all. I'm not there yet, but by God's grace I will get there. May God strengthen me, mold me, and fill me 'til all they see is Him in me.


They lifted their hands, and sung with all their might, so desperate to get closer to God, so desperate in their worship. I dream of the day when each youth service would be like this. It's so beautiful I just had to take a few snaps.




This year I will be working on some of my greatest dreams. I hope to find myself walking on water, fully confident in God's calling and His plans for my life. I'm excited to further enhance my skills as a photographer and I am looking forward to the possibility of going back to school to study about it more. However, the three days I spent with the young people, made me realize one thing, that I truly love serving in the youth ministry. If it were possible to turn back time, I would give it all again for the youth.

I pray that I will see more lives changed and hear more testimonies in the coming days, months, and years. I think I'm beginning to understand just why at a very young age my Dad counted everything as loss and offered his strength and passion to reach people for Christ.


Around 20 young people got baptized that Saturday morning. After the last one, my dad came out of the pool and said "Ang sarap mag baptized!" with a huge smile on his face, still with tears in my eyes, I smiled too.

I can see the hesitance in Dianna's eyes as Ate Erica puts blush on her cheeks. She shares that she is not like her sister Dianne, who is far more familiar with the experience of having her photos taken. But nonetheless, she showed up on a sunny afternoon wearing a red top and a denim skirt, along with all the confidence she mustered.

Both were oblivious to the fact that this photo shoot was for their surprise 18th birthday party.

I've known these young ladies since they were kids. And to be honest, it was only after they became 13 when I knew how to tell who is who. Thinking about it now, it must be difficult growing up and having people mistake you for your sister all the time. The pressure to be as unique as possible must be immense, but even without effort I think the two of them would have naturally set themselves apart.


The more they grow , the more the similarities fade. It looks like they have long began walking different paths and found different circles. But still at the end of it all, no one can take away the bond that God had created. After all, they were together even before their first heartbeat. They were together as their limbs grew, as their features were formed. Together as they learned to kick inside their mother's womb. Isn't that a beautiful thing?

Last night, the doors opened and their friends and family greeted them to their surprise. Tears rolled down from their eyes. I know that in their young age they've been through a lot, but it's nice to know that last night they truly felt loved.

Happy Birthday Dianne and Dianna! I pray that you never lose sight of your identity in Christ, and that the two of you will always find love in each other's arms.