A Lenten Encounter at Greggs

I have a story to tell - one of those moments where God decides to communicate with me in the most mysterious and undeniable ways.

As Catholics, we have once again entered the season of Lent. It is a holy time of sacrifice, a season where we are called to fast, give alms, and repent for our wrongdoings through the Sacrament of Reconciliation. This year, I wanted to take it seriously.

It was the first Friday of Lent. As an adult Catholic, the rules were clear: abstain from meat and limit myself to one regular meal and two smaller ones. My personal plan was even more ambitious: I decided to skip lunch entirely and avoid any snacks in between. For me, this is incredibly difficult. Even on a normal day when I eat a full lunch, I struggle to make it to the end of the workday. My knees often buckle and my hands begin to shake from hunger - perhaps a physical reality of being obese and needing to lose weight. I admit that struggle freely.

That morning, I prepared myself. I stopped at Greggs for my small meal - a cup of coffee and a croissant. Every morning, it is my habit to pray, and read the daily Mass readings (the First Reading, the Psalm, and the Gospel) before sharing the Gospel of the day with my CFC (Couples for Christ) unit household chat group. For me, reading the Scriptures and meditation in my prayers are the primary ways God speaks to me.

I found a table, knowing I had only 15 minutes before my train arrived. I was just about to open my Hallow app when a man walked into the shop and caught my attention.

He wore a hoodie and looked weary, carrying the kind of exhaustion that goes deeper than just a lack of sleep. He approached the counter and quietly asked the staff for the prices of the pastries and coffee. When he heard the total, he paused. He didn’t order anything. Instead, he walked over to a table and sat down, empty-handed.

In that moment, my heart twinged. It was clear he didn’t have enough money for breakfast. I felt a nudge - the Lord touching my heart to approach him. Usually, I would ignore that voice. I’d be afraid he might take me for granted or react violently. I’d tell myself it’s better to just mind my own business.

But that day, the feeling was different. It was persistent.

I walked over and offered to buy him whatever he wanted. He looked at me, eyes wide with disbelief. He asked me twice if I was sure. Eventually, he chose a simple cup of coffee and a sausage roll. After I handed them to him, he shook my hand firmly. "It’s rare that someone offers a stranger breakfast," he said. He then called me "brother."

Feeling a sense of quiet joy, I returned to my table to finish my croissant. I had five minutes left before I had to run for my train. I opened my Hallow app to finally read the Word.

The First Reading was Isaiah 58:1-9a.

As I read, I felt the air leave my lungs. It was a powerful, uncomfortable, and direct call from God to move away from "rituals" and toward "justice." The words hit me like a physical weight:

"Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of wickedness... to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house?"

The Lord was telling me: You are fasting, but you are still procrastinating. You are abstaining from food, but are you abstaining from indifference? God’s message was piercingly clear: He isn’t impressed by how miserable I look during a fast or how loud my stomach growls. He is interested in how I treat my neighbour when the "general prayer assembly" is over. True fasting is justice. True fasting is empathy. True fasting is refusing to hide yourself from your own flesh by ignoring those who really needs our help.

I sat there on the brink of tears. The timing was too perfect to be a coincidence. I had been worried about skipping lunch to prove my devotion, but God showed me a better way. I had done more for my soul by feeding a weary stranger than I ever could have by bracing stressfully my way through hunger while keeping my heart closed.

Isaiah 58 reminds me that spiritual disciplines like fasting and prayer are not the finish line. They are tools meant to soften our hearts so we can actually see the world’s pain. If our spirituality doesn't make us more compassionate, it’s just a noise.

I realized that day that God would rather have you eat a fried chicken and treat people with kindness than skip lunch and remain indifferent to suffering.

Lord, thank you for your voice. I hear you.

By the way, I took the featured photo for this blog last year in Barcelona. It depicts 'Homeless Jesus' (or Jesus without a roof), a sculpture located in Santa Anna Square within the Ciutat Vella district, right in front of the Church of Santa Anna.

Lobster Tortellini and a Winter Coat

They say procrastination is the thief of time, but on Valentine’s Day, it’s mostly just the thief of dinner reservations.

I’ll admit it: I’ve become a "last-minute guy." The transformation is hard to explain. I used to be the "Itinerary King" - the man who organized family trips, booking flights and colour-coding schedules months in advance. But this year? I failed to see Valentine’s Day coming, even though it’s been on the same date for, well, forever.

My original plan was simple: a romantic, candlelit fine-dining experience with my wife. I found the perfect spot - a gorgeous restaurant with an actual tree inside the dining room. I could already see the "Husband of the Year" trophy. Then, I tried to book it. Fully booked.

I moved to my second choice. Fully booked. My third? Full. I even went back to the restaurants I had previously snubbed for being "not good enough," and even they turned me away. That’s when the realization hit: trying to book a table 24 hours before Valentine’s Day is like trying to find a quiet spot at a rock concert. It’s just not going to happen.

As I sat there staring at the screen of my PC full of "No Availability", I had a realization. Why limit the love to just the two of us? St. Valentine may have sacrificed his life for the commitment of young couples, but surely he wouldn’t mind if I invited the whole gang. Love and sacrifice, right? My sacrifice was the romantic candlelit dream; my love was for my entire family.

I fired off a message to the family WhatsApp group: "Hello there my kids.. Do you have appointments tomorrow night.. I'm planning a family date" By some miracle, the kids didn't have plans yet. The "Family Date" was officially on!

Against all odds, I secured a table for four at our local Prezzo. We all dressed up, feeling sharp and ready for a lovely Saturday night. The ambiance was great, the company was better, and the food was genuinely delicious. I’m still thinking about the crab and lobster tortellini I ordered - absolutely top-tier.

However, there was one uninvited guest at our table: a mysterious, freezing breeze.

I don’t know where it was coming from, but it felt like we were dining on the slopes of the Alps. My wife complained to the waitress, who politely checked with her manager, but the cool draft remained. In the end, my wife spent the entire romantic dinner bundled up in her winter coat.

I’d like to think the restaurant wasn't doing it on purpose to make us finish faster, but let’s just say we didn’t linger over desserts and coffee (we did it outside in a Mc Donalds not far away). If I go back (and I will for that pasta!), I’m requesting a table far, far away from the "Arctic" section.

Every event in life has something to teach us. Perfection is a myth; even the most beautiful evening usually has a tiny flaw hiding in the shadows or blowing in from the vents.

But looking around that table, watching my wife and two children laugh together, I realized that a "perfect" time isn't about the lighting or the booking lead time. It’s about the memory. A family date like this is a once-in-a-lifetime snapshot of where we are right now.

Valentine’s Day is the "Day of the Heart." This year, mine is completely full because I remembered what it's actually made of: an everlasting love for my wife and kids.

A Journey Through the Heart

There is a certain weight in the air today, a quiet heaviness I can’t quite shake. I don’t want to admit that it’s simply the passage of time, or the realization that my "prime" might be behind me, but sometimes the reality of aging is hard to hold. Maybe it was a video reel I stumbled across on Facebook that did it - one of those clips that reaches into the archives of your life and pulls everything back to the surface.

The blogger in the video asked a simple, piercing question: "If you were given the chance to go back to 1998 and stay there for a while, would you ever come back to the present?"

That question hit me like a wave. Suddenly, I wasn't just scrolling; I was reflecting. I was remembering the faces of the people who shaped me - my friends, my family, and the loved ones who are no longer here.

For me, 1998 was the year the world truly opened up. It was the year I graduated from college. I remember the independence of renting a small studio apartment in Batangas City, learning for the first time how to navigate the world on my own. I was juggling the demands of my final year of studies with the complexities of a personal relationship. I’m proud of that version of myself - the one who managed to graduate with honours without losing the capacity to love.

Back then, "me time" was a deliberate choice, not something squeezed between notifications. I remember the simple joy of choosing between a PBA game on the TV, a PC game, or just lying on my bed listening to my favourite songs on a cassette tape. Yes, I had a whole collection of them!

When the walls of the apartment felt too small, I would walk through the city at night. I can still smell the smoke of the "barbecue" and "isaw" at the street food stalls. Dinner was often just a plate of white rice and a can of fried sardines or corned beef, though nothing could beat a meal at the local carinderia. And the mornings? They were a choice between the classic pandesal, a warm bonete, or a steaming plate of Lucky Me instant pancit canton.

Life wasn't complicated then. We didn't have mobile phones or social media. There were no Zoom meetings, no Youtube, no Messenger, and no Whatsapp - yet, we were so happy. We appreciated the small things because we had to be present to experience them. I honestly don't know how we coordinated everything back then, but we did. Communication felt more intentional; interaction was physical and real. Sometimes, I deeply miss the version of myself that wasn't tied up to a phone 24/7.

As these memories flashed back, they brought a sharp, deep ache in my heart. I thought of my late Ate Zening, my loving aunt. I used to tell her all my dreams, always imagining she would be there to see them come true. I miss her deeply. I thought of my Dad, too. If I could take that trip back to 1998, I wouldn’t just go for the nostalgia; I’d go to spend more time with him. I’d talk more, bond more, and hold onto those moments just a little longer.

They say death is the inevitable opposite of life, but I believe life is a gift given by God for a reason. Every life is purpose-driven and meant to be cherished. Where there is life, there is hope; and where there is hope, there is love - because the One who gave us this world is God and God is love.

I’ve realized today that it’s okay to linger in the past for a moment. It’s okay to get emotional. Without our "then," there is no "now." We are the products of our history. As the saying goes, before we can be molded, we must first be melted.

So, yes... I am emotional today. My mind is full of ghosts and golden memories. But I am also happy. There is a healing power in putting these feelings into words. Let’s cherish this life - and each other - while we still can.

A New Chapter Of My Life

 

As a new year begins, I find myself standing at the starting line once again, armed with a fresh set of goals. I’m leaning into hope this time. Hoping that this year won’t just be a repeat of the last, but a genuine step forward. I want to improve, even if it’s just one small habit at a time.

The Wins: Feeding the Mind

One resolution I actually stuck to last year was diving into books and audiobooks. I managed to finish 10 titles, which feels like a massive accomplishment! In the middle of a hectic daily routine, being able to carve out time for a story or a new perspective is a gift. It’s a relief to know I’ve made my brain work a little harder, choosing a page or a chapter over the mindless and endless scrolling of my phone. This year, I’m aiming to beat that score.

The Struggles: The Creative Block

I went into last year thinking I’d write much more for this blog, but the posts were few and far between. The inspiration just wasn't there. Looking back, there were so many moments and events that would have made for beautiful journal entries, but laziness or perhaps just the slowing down that comes with age won the day. Sometimes, I just want to do nothing. However, I’m wishing for more productivity this year. I want to try writing more, even if it’s just for a change of pace.

The Hurdles: Health and the "Spark"

My biggest "fail" was my health. I started last year at 110kg with a goal to reach 90kg, but I didn't lose a single stone. I’m still 110kg today. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but I have to be honest: how can I expect to lose weight if I didn't truly commit to a diet?

My attempts at physical activity were equally short-lived. I tried Saturday morning workouts with a friend, but after three weeks, I chose sleep instead. Waking up early is a sacrifice I just wasn't ready to make. I told myself I’d go to the gym after work, but my body usually demanded a warm dinner and the comfort of home instead. Even after buying new basketball shoes and hitting the court for a couple of Sundays, the motivation fizzled out.

This year, I’m not making any grand promises. I’m simply looking for a "spark" that extra bit of motivation to get moving. I’m still hopeful it will come.

The Horizon: Travel and Soul-Searching

For some reason, I feel a deep pull to travel this year. We already have some wonderful plans in motion. A pilgrimage to Fatima, Portugal on March, a weekend escape to Wales on April and a family holiday in Croatia on the summer.

I’m genuinely excited. I think my body and soul are calling me to disconnect from the daily grind and explore the wonders of God’s creation. I often wish for a sabbatical year, a time to completely unplug from jobs and bills, but I know that’s a big ask.

Final Thoughts: A Heart Full of Joy

Despite the goals I missed, I know I am incredibly lucky. I am blessed with the miracle of life, good health, a wonderful wife, and lovely children. I have a job that sustains us in an expensive city like London, and a community where God continues to use me to serve others.

I am happy. My heart is filled with joy, and I am hopeful for what this new year has to offer. I’m ready to grab every opportunity that comes my way.