The Funnel

Taking it all in. Letting some of it out.

Six years later

I need a prayer journal. I’ve thought about writing down my prayers, prayer requests, and prayer lessons on a single notebook. I struggle with how that would look like but I had an inclination that it will work best for me if I do it on a notebook that is unlined. I recall a thick notebook which I received a long, long time ago. I know that it was unlined and that it still had a lot of free pages in it. I pulled it off the shelf and opened to what was my 2011 in half a centimeter thick of pages.

I didn’t write a lot nor often in 2011. From what was on there, it seemed that my 2011 was a year that began hopeful and spiritually high; but one that ended lower than when it began.

The new year entry recorded how I was inspired to see God through the fireworks. The days that immediately followed it was filled with similar tones: thankfulness, blessedness and prayers for the year. I seemed to desire consistency in my personal bible study at the beginning of the year. I wrote down bible study insights and lessons. I even recalled a few sermons and BSF lessons.

Apparently, 2011 was the year I was asked to lead the Sunday night contemporary worship service. There were a few entries on how I struggled with the band’s devotion — more importantly, my own leadership by example. (I’m afraid I still struggle with this today.)

There were entries on my struggles at work – how I was disturbed by people pleasing and superficiality. There were a lot of entries on how I struggled with my career and purpose in what I do. It was a year when I struggled a lot with my weight and my incapacity to control my food intake. (I’ve made some progress here, thankfully.)

I wrote my struggles about family: a few fights were recorded. One was when DJ and I fought over a laptop. He needed to write a report for school and I wanted to play Angry Birds. I told him to take a shower first (so that I could play longer); to which he replied with a snappy comeback on how he will lose his motivation to write if he showered now. I was angry at his insubordination. I look back and hate that I use to be like that. How selfish and unreasonable I was. How quick to be angry we both were towards each other.

There was an entry on my pains about divisions in the church, one that was brought up after time spent with Tito Ghing who was still alive then. I seem to have been struck by his life because I recorded his love for the church and his heart for its people.

In 2011, I struggled with really knowing if I was saved or if I ever truly believed in Jesus. In one entry, I confessed my doubts. I struggled with being authentic to my bible study group, WFP.

The year ended with a poem. I took a photo to share with you.


My 2011 journal was written by a Meryll I can’t seem to remember. The events ring bells, but the heart beneath those words was written by a person so different from me now.

Today, six years later, I can see how God used that time in my life to lead me to questions I can never ask when I was still blinded to the truth. Six years later, I can testify that He has answered the prayers I’ve long been asking. Six years later, I see His unfailing faithfulness. I’m glad God allowed 2011 to happen the way it did.


Day 10: Traffic

I bet if each one of the 20-million+ Filipinos in the metro earned a peso for every time they use this word every day, we’d be able to raise enough funds to buy all those buses, taxis, jeepneys and tricycles who can’t seem to follow simple traffic rules. Let’s buy them to discard them. Traffic problem solved! Okay, maybe that was too harsh. Let’s just use the funds to buy more trains on the MRT. Better? Maybe.

Continue reading “Day 10: Traffic”

Day 9: Something that happened in a mall

For some weird reason, whenever Alma and I were together in a mall, my train would start moving. You know, the exit doors would open instantly. A call from the oval office. Everything inside get ready to go outside. Let me spell it out for you: bowel movement.

Continue reading “Day 9: Something that happened in a mall”

Day 8: Your worst birthday

Searching memory…



File not found!

Day 7: A neighbor

That other car who cut you off on the road today rushing to his dying son.
Continue reading “Day 7: A neighbor”

Day 6: A kiss

Fireworks were not exploding for she knew not how to move her lips or whether she should move her tongue. All she could smell was the wet exchange of saliva and skin in a background of sloppy noises. Awkwardly, she opened her eyes. To her surprise, two round brown pupils were looking back at her. At an instant, the noises stopped, their lips parted and gentle giggles filled that little school corridor. 

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