“Play tayo kay Jesus”

We probably should have done this earlier, but recently, we’ve begun the practice of praying short prayers aloud with the twins—during mealtimes and bedtimes, mostly, but it can also be in other times too, like when I prayed for their cough and cold to go away as I gave them an oil massage.

I’m not sure about the extent of their grasp of the concept, but Ulap for one is loving it. She is always the one reaching out for our hands and reminding us, “Play tayo kay Jesus. Play.” See, she means “Let’s pray to Jesus,” but because she can’t pronounce the “r” properly yet, she ends up saying “play.”

I didn’t think much of it at first, but suddenly, I realized: it’s such a beautiful thing when you think about it. For them, praying to Jesus is much like playing with Him. Like when a parent and a child play together, praying to God pretty much achieves the same things. It is reveling in His presence. It is a communion of spirits. It is a method of learning and communicating. It is a sure-fire way of getting to know Him. It is a gift of time.

Lord, may we always remember to seek You in prayer, and may You grant us the grace to raise prayerful children, children (and eventually adults) who are just happy to come to You and spend time with You, always.

A Conversation I Did Not Want, But Actually Needed

This past week has been a tough one. What started as a cough for one twin quickly escalated to pneumonia for both of them. I kept getting jarred by one development after another. First was the worry at having to be admitted to the hospital at all, then the shock at finding out from xray results that both twins had pneumonia. Then, as one twin started getting better, the other one who didn’t seem much affected at first and was not even put on IV started getting worse! So what happened was the first one who got sick was also the first one to be discharged, while the other one had to stay longer for added treatment and observation. Every day I would be hoping to be sent home, wishing it would only be a couple of days, but we ended up spending five days in the hospital. Every day I would nervously think about the twins’ progress, the work that I was not able to do, the medical expenses that were piling up, the logistical difficulties of taking care of the twins and shuttling from home to hospital to pick up supplies and needed paperwork. It also didn’t help that Don was on travel and we were less one person in the rotation.

So last night, when I was finally able to sleep in my own bed, I could only be grateful.

Grateful, and a little bit chastened—because of a few minutes of conversation with a hospital staff who was then doing chest physiotherapy on Dahon while I was holding her in my arms. Continue reading