Sometimes it takes years, sometimes just days, sometimes even hours, but if you're like me, a journey back home will always be hard if what you left behind are filled with broken promises and painful tears.

The first time I found home, I was ugly, broken, bitter, angry and in tears. I wasn't even really a child of that home to begin with. I didn't expect to be welcomed because honestly, if an ugly and dirty child matched with a crappy personality came up to you, it's going to be pretty hard to welcome her into a perfectly clean world. But He did. He welcomed me to His home, and He told me that it could be my home.

The first time I came home, I didn't think I'd have the gall to leave again. How could I leave and spit upon the kind Father who took me in? How could I slap in the face and say I needed something else?

But I did leave.

I left, and like a disobedient adopted daughter, I wasted away my life once more. What He made clean, I sullied and I dirtied. I spat upon Him, over and over again. Every single time I promised that I would come back, only to be tempted away again to my vices.

I left behind a broken promise.

How could I come back? How could I look upon His face again? How could I? After all those times, how could I even have the courage to come back? It was impossible, unthinkable. My sins were too big.

That's what He said when I finally had the courage to come back home. I thought He'd shout a little bit, or make me stand outside the rain. But He did none of that. He just looked me in the eye and said that He would always welcome me home.

Always.

Lotsa love, Jana

Dull as dirt, you can't assert the kind of light that might persuade a strict dictator to retire. Fire the army; teach the poor origami. The truth is in, the proof is when, your heart starts asking: "What's my motivation?"

And try as you may, there isn't a way to explain the kind of change that would make an Eskimo renounce fur; that would make a vegetarian barbecue hamster (no hamsters were hurt at production of these words). Unless you can trace this about-face to a certain sign:

Shine, make 'em wonder what you got. Make 'em wish that they were not, on the outside looking bored. Shine, let it shine before all men. Let 'em see good works and then, let 'em glorify the Lord.

Out of the shaker, onto the plate. It isn't Karma, it sure ain't fate, that would make a Deadhead sell his van, that would make a schizophrenic turn in his crayons. Oprah freaks, and science seeks a rationale that shall excuse this strange behavior.

When you let it shine, you will inspire the kind of entire turnaround that would make a bouncer take ballet (even bouncers who aren't happy) but out of the glare with nowhere to turn, you ain't gonna learn it on "What's My Line?"

By: Newsboys with special participation of Veggie Tales.

Lotsa love, Jana

It really wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. I wasn't lonely, I did count the minutes that seemed to slowly, and dreadfully pass by, and the thought that I'm having such a pathetic time did not enter my mind at all. Sure, if I had a choice, I would have spent this day in a slightly different manner, but that being said, I believe I had fun.

I had only been sleeping for about two hours, when at 6 am, I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing, with the Turtle on the other end of the line. They came to pick up my brother, all the way at my Professor's house where we spent the night, and I had to wake my brother up (who was grumpy to say the least--I think it runs in the family because if you wake me up like how I woke him up, I would have bitten of your head for your attempt and slept again--because he didn't get that much sleep the night before) because they were right outside the house. So, disregarding the slightly grumpy brother, it was a wonderful thing to see the Turtle so early Christmas morning. It was as if a gift from heaven that I spent time with him on Christmas Eve and at least saw him on Christmas morning.

After he and my brother left, I went sleeping for like 3 more hours, when I woke up to a heavy breakfast of pancakes prepared by our hosts, and it was like Christmas dinner all over again. To Mrs. Professor, you bake a mean, and by mean I obviously mean amazing, batch of chocolate chip cookies. There was an unstoppable flow of cookies, pancakes, and hot brewed coffee, and the conversation around the table flowed freely as well.

When we left, I went with a friend to their guest-house thingie, and I spent the whole afternoon just sleeping in their nice and comfortable bed, within an air conditioned room, after which we ate food from Kenny Rogers. I mean wow, the food today is just girmazing is it not?

After that I went back to the dorm, and here I am blogging about it.

Funny how you expect something to end up so badly, and when the day comes, it isn't so bad after all? Now as I sit here, with the fan blowing in my face, and the sounds blaring in my ear, with Christmas ending in just a couple of minutes more, I have only one thing to say before I say goodnight:

Dear Jesus, on this day I just want to say that if you weren't born here on earth, life would pretty much suck. Also, I love you.

Lotsa love, Jana

I'm on my fourth year at this college.

I bet not many of those who accidentally read this know that I'm studying in a BIBLE college where I am training to become a missionary. Yes, yes, it's like training to become a nun, but we have different beliefs when it comes to our theology and unlike those brave, self-controlled people, I am still allowed to fall in love and get married.

Though love and getting married is a great topic to rant about, this rant is not about the joys and pains of love. Nope, this is about my chosen path to take, the questions of why I chose it, if I ever regretted my choices, and what the heck am I still doing here?

Let's resume this rant, shall we?

When I was a wee bit little girl, having just graduated from high-school, there was this weird burning in my heart, not at all like heartburn, but something you can't explain without using those very words; burning of the heart or heartburn. I wanted to become a missionary. I wanted to learn about God, and I wanted to tell those who didn't get the chance to know about Jesus and to be given the choice. I don't care much for those who have rejected him already, because hey it's your choice if you don't want to believe in my beliefs. What I do care about is bringing the choice to those who never had the chance to choose. For me, that's what it means to be a missionary.

And that's what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

I could have been a journalist, what with my penchant for liking to write about whatever and giving insights to people who don't really want it, and I could have been great at it. I could have been a lawyer, since I could argue till my face is red, then blue and then I would argue some more until you are forced to agree with me cause that's the only way you'll get me to shut up.

But no.

I decided I wanted to become a missionary.

Was it the right choice?

Though my immediate family were nothing but supportive with my chosen future vocation, my extended family was not as kind. There were always snide remarks of me wasting my time, my future, my gifts at being essentially witty and sarcastic which people can mistake for some form of intelligence, and most of all, they all claim that not only am I wasting money on this endeavor, I was probably never going to get rich enough to help myself let alone my ever supportive immediate family when they need me, and I was probably going to rely on them for monetary support for the rest of my life. Encouraging, huh?

Did I ever regret my choice?

Sometimes, when people ask me what course I'm taking, something clogs up my throat, and instead of proudly telling them that I'm training to become a missionary, I mumble something about taking up theology, hoping that that is too big a word for them to actually know what it means, and that they're too proud enough to not bother asking what that means. Why? I could say it's because it gets tiring explaining all the how, why, and what the heck were you thinking questions that inevitably pops up. I refuse to say I am ashamed, so I won't. Not because the feeling doesn't come up every now and then, but because I refuse to even give it a foothold in my heart, so I just brush it aside and scrub it out of my brain.

So what am I still doing here?

Because that burning sensation in my heart? Yeah that heartburn that isn't heartburn at all? It's still there. And I want nothing more than to become a missionary, to serve God in any land far away where the choice to choose is not available to them. To this very day, even in the face of discouraging people, situations, questions, judgments, if I have known everything that I know now before I made my choice to become a missionary, I know deep in my gut that I would still choose to become one. Sure, I may have wondered what it would be like to be a famous writer, famous lawyer, famous person earning big bucks to support those whom I love, but I have never regretted my choice to become what I am training to be today.

I'd give up the whole world, my friends, my family, my fame, my pride, my fears, my hopes, my dreams, my money, my name, God help me, even my boyfriend, if that's what it requires to become what God wants me to be.

Why am I a missionary?

Because that's the only kind of person I was meant to be.

Lotsa love, Jana

Drama, drama, drama

It's like someone pulled me out of my life and decided to place me in one of those asian dramas that I watch until the wee hours of the morning. Good thing I still have my leading man, because if I hadn't, I would have thrown myself over the nearest bridge, which really I do not want to have to do because have you seen the garbage-filled rivers that are in the city, here in the Philippines? I think I'd die of bacteria infection instead of actual drowning.

Drama #1
An old ex-friend decides to show up after several months of hiatus. The last time we spoke consisted of screaming and shouting and would have to be rendered into exclamation marks and capital letters in order to do it justice if I were to type about that here.

And then suddenly out of the blue, he makes a comeback, claiming to be all nice and claiming that no more whining, no more complaining, no more insulting, he swears. And I think, why the heck not? I'm one who likes to give second, third, twentieth chances, so I give him another chance. First few weeks, he was alright.

Then suddenly he explodes!

And we get into another exclamation capital letters he insults me and I am so pissed off fight. He starts complaining, whining and bloody heck I just wanted to go blind and deaf right then and there. After a lot of arguing (!!!) and shouting (OH EM GEE), I finally made my decision.

And so I told him to stay away from me now.

Drama #2
At the college I have three best girl friends, and recently someone's been attacking my little oasis of girl friendship happiness.

On of my friends has an ex, who now seems to have a budding relationship with Ms. Attacking Other People's Oasis of Girl Friendship Happiness. And this girl suddenly out of nowhere, sends a message of threat claiming so many things that cannot all be true. And she's trying to break us apart with her weird claims, and that it was someone within the our group who have said nasty things about my friend with the ex, and and and I so totally bet that it's her overall jealousy of the beautiful friendship that we share that is making her resort to these kind of underhanded methods. I mean like we really care who the ex of my friend ends up with.

A girl-cat fight? What is this, high school?

Drama #3
Here's a little background

You know how some families are so dysfunctional? The father is an alcoholic, the mother spends too much money, the older brother has some girl pregnant, the older sister is on cocaine and the youngest is a genius but no one appreciates her because they give much more care to the TV than to their budding genius of a daughter - that kind of family?

Well, I thank God that my immediate family is so far removed from that, however my extended family are, to borrow a phrase, weird beyond comprehension. Like completely, one hundred percent, out there. Someone must have decided to use up all of life's weirdness and poured them out on my aunts and uncles and cousins.

My father's side are too busy to give a care about you and my mother's side are all in your face because they've got nothing better too. Both sides are dysfunctional personified.

Enough of the background.

Yesterday, an uncle exploded because I forgot to turn off the light after using the bathroom. He literally freaking exploded. From bathroom lights, he went and insulted my heritage, and said that I was a spoiled brat, that I was a weird hybrid of a pig, that I was going to burn, and that my parents didn't know what they were doing when they raised me and my brother. Then he just went on to random curses and swearing.

All the time I was sitting there, and I was thinking,

WHAT IN THE WORLD??!!

It was a freaking light bulb, no need to get your boxers in a knot. Well I am sorry if I'm forgetful, but dude? Seriously, for a freaking light bulb, you insult my heritage, which may I just point out is your heritage too?

Gyaaaaaah..(insert an hour's worth of pissed off scream here)..ah

End of Drama Count

And all of these? They all happened within the span of a couple of days. Whoopdeedoo, I guess I can say my summer vacation has been spectacular, huh? I can hardly say it's boring.

As I've mentioned earlier, thank God, thank you so much Je, that I still have my leading man, the Turtle, because I'd have given up a long time ago if the Turtle wasn't there to support me every step of the long and winding dialogue.

I just hope we defy the current tradition of some dramas, where they're going to be separated and then after two years, I have changed into a gorgeous lady, and he still needs me and does everything to woo me back. Though as much as I like the gorgeous part and the wooing especially, I think I'd die if I was truly separated from him, and I wouldn't know if I would see him again or not.

Hmm, I wonder if we would have a title for my drama?

Jana's Crazy Life?

Hmm, maybe Just Crazy?

Lotsa love, Jana