Life's Little Accidents

I spent my high school years in Don Bosco Juniorate, a minor seminary where there was a very strong football culture. We woke up thinking about playing football, we spent the day talking about football, and during games and recreation we would play football for hours. We were often left breathless at football stories passed on from generation to generation in the seminary, mostly about the exploits of our predecessors in DBJ. It was said that they battled with the likes of the Army team and expats who drove all the way to our seminary in order to challenge them, who were regarded to be one of the best teams in the country.

Naturally, I wanted to be part of that great footballing legacy that the Juniorate prided itself in. I spent years trying to perfect my technique and to gain a spot in the prestigious football varsity team. Finally, after two years of trying and giving it my best, I thought I had a good shot at being part of the team. I wasn't really strong, but I was fast and very quick as a defender. All I needed were a few good pick-up games in order to impress the coach and my would-be team mates, and eventually land on the team.

Then, one tragic day in November back in 1995, this happened:

Oh, why did they have to say, "break a leg"?

I broke my leg in a freak accident during one of the practice games. To this day, I still do not know exactly how I broke my leg, but I did hear what sounded like a tree branch snapping when the accident happened.

This picture was taken a week after I broke my leg. I was taken to a hilot first, twice. The pain I went through as the hilot did her work was just beyond words. The slightest movement I made hurt; I cannot even begin to tell you how painful it was at every stroke the hilot did against my leg, but she was confident that there were no broken bones and still did her job.. After two excruciating visits to the hilot, I was finally sent to the hospital, where they took an x-ray of my leg and revealed the painful truth: I had indeed broken my shin bone.

Perhaps more painful than this was to be told that I will not be able to play any sport, let alone football, for the next 6 months. My whole left leg was plastered and immobilized, I was walking with the help of crutches, and I was in an all-time low. As a healthy and athletic 15 year-old kid, I thought I was the king of the world; to be debilitated by a broken bone was just unacceptable.

For the first time in my life, I questioned God. I asked God, why me? It could have been someone else, but why me? Why single me out, Lord???

Fortunately, the seminary had a lot more to offer me than just football. I have been putting off learning how to play the guitar before the incident, and after the accident I had two things that I had a lot of: free time, and letters. Everyday I would walk to our music room, get a guitar, and strum away. I got better as the days went by. My friends sent me letters and get-well-soon cards, and soon I found out that I have a knack for writing. I wrote them back, and they wrote me back, saying that I wrote like a pro. That started my love affair with writing.

Fast-forward to today: by God's help, and through a lot of effort, I have become a writer who has made writing his bread and butter.

I do not pretend to know why God has sent me life's little accidents. I do not even know if God was responsible for all this. What I do know is that God has allowed me to transform tragedy into an opportunity for renewal.

But God was not done with me yet. When I broke my leg I thought that that was the end of my dream of joining the varsity. I was wrong. .

The really handsome and cool dude third from the right, back row. I wonder who he is. Hmm.

By this time, I was writing screenplays for movies and TV, and a member of the school band. And God has given me back some of my skills, just enough to make the team and play football on the side. Not bad Lord, not bad.

The story should have ended there, but I was yet to encounter another accident.

Before my college graduation, I was convinced that my transition to the "outside world" (having left the seminary a year before) would be smooth, and that offers to direct or write movies and TV shows would come that easily. After all, I was trained and schooled by the best screenplay writer this country had. I was convinced that I would become a screenplay writer, like my mentor was. At least I had music to fall back to, just in case the offers took time in coming.

I was 19 when I first got an offer to direct an indie film, but I had to beg off because I had absolutely no experience directing a film. After that was an offer to be the writer for a kid's fantasy series, but I had to submit my script that night as part of the try-outs. Once again, I begged off, not wanting to submit a haphazardly-done script and therefore tarnish my career.

Then, the offers stopped coming. Just when I thought things were looking bright for me and my future, I had hit a snag. Eventually, I would accept a teaching job where I wasn't able to showcase any of my writing or musical talents.

At that point, I had more questions that answers. I had begun to doubt God. Again.

I needed more than Google to answer my questions.

I do not dare say that there was no fun or happiness in teaching. In fact, I consider myself to be a passionate teacher who believed in his students so much. To my credit, I have established permanent bonds with my former students, and I am proud that we all have shared wonderful experiences together. But those were times that I was searching for something that would fulfill me, and the worst part was that I didn't know what it was.

Then came an opportunity to work for Pro-Life Philippines a few years ago. Pro-Life gave me my first real opportunity to be not only a writer, but a writer who could make a difference. My experience in teaching has also given me the skill of public speaking. It was through my talents in writing and public speaking that I was finally able to find my niche, my place in life. These past few years I had been giving seminars, retreats, recollections, and talks to various groups from different walks of life, aside from being a writer and an activist for the pro-life movement here in the country.

Fighting the Culture of Death. Fighting the good fight. 

I have absolutely no idea what accident life will send my way in the future. After all I have been through, I have learned that the trick here is not to avoid the accident, but to trust that God will help you fix everything so that things come out for the good, eventually.

For those of you who are reading this and are currently experiencing some sort of accident that has caused you pain, confusion, and doubt: upon reading this, you have my prayer, and I am praying now that whatever you have lost due to your accident, you will never  lose faith and trust in the power of God.

May God send you more accidents in life, and may you have the fortitude to rise up from your fall, and the wisdom to recognize the opportunities to change and improve your life, to be perfected as God is perfect.