Just got back from our week-long holiday in Hong Kong. It's beautiful there, as always, and I've managed to brush up on my Cantonese thanks to the MTR, lol. And I've finally got IT. 

What is IT, you ask? Why, it is the LORD OF THE RINGS SPECIAL EXTENDED EDITION DVD BOX SET!!!!!! WOOT!!!!! After three years!!!!

More on it in the next few days :D Anyway, A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO MAVE, JOSHY, CAT, KAZ, SUHAN, DORA, NICOLE, RELL, MATTY, RUSTY, BETHANY and everyone at CoS! The Lord bless you and keep you all in His tender care, and always remember that even in the times you feel alone, He is with you and He loves you--that's why He was born :)

The long-overdue Part 3 of my entry :D

God really does work when we call on Him, that's all I have to say :)

On Friday night of production week (November 23rd), we had our technical dress rehearsal. It was kind of fun and exciting, because it marked the beginning of the end of all our labors over the past months.

And we, the adult choir, were screwed, to put it bluntly.

It was the night before opening night, and we were STILL making major mistakes: singing off-tempo, getting confused in our blocking, and forgetting our dialogue. I had a feeling it was with great diffculty that our choreographer, our conductress, and our director allowed us to stumble on. As Director Chinggoy put it after the rehearsal, "That..was a disaster!" And he threatened death by shotgun to anyone who was counting onstage.

But, he continued, he was still pretty confident. Why? Because he'd seen magic work in the theater before, and it was after the most terrible rehearsals that some of the best performances surfaced. Privately, however, we felt he had better lower his expectations--it would take a MIRACLE for us to perform well the next day. Auntie Celia counseled us to never cease praying for the production--yep, especially the adult choir.

We also had some problems with other choir members--we'd "imported" some alumni from the US, and we frankly thought that one of them was a bit conceited. He was part of the choir that was helping us sing from behind the scenes, and he kept making us change our blocking so that he could see that conductress. We thought this was a bit unfair, considering that since he was the one invisible to the audience, shouldn't he be the one to move? And he kept us after the rehearsal to practice again and again and again...We were like, dude--IT IS ALMOST 11PM--I don't know how YOU spent your day, but most of us came from school or work and we're TIRED, for heaven's sake. By the time I got home, I was a very annoyed wreck.

The next day, we got to the auditorium at 2pm for our company call. Surprisingly, we found that the crew was still working on the sets, which effectively ruined our plan to practice our blocking before the performance. And Director Chinggoy pep talk left us all a little confused, with all his references to "letting white light fill you." He wished us luck, however, and we were treated to an impromptu performance by the adorable dears from the little kids' choir "Angelic Voices".

Backstage, we sat around and chatted, passing the time and waiting for our turn in makeup. We did some rehearsing, making use of the piano in our assigned waiting room and "cheat sheets" for our dialogue and blocking. All too soon, though, we were being asked to go into makeup.

(As a note, I have really small eyes--a combination of being, well, Chinese and having bad eyesight (squinting makes them even smaller). So I simply MUST be picky when it comes to eye makeup--dark shadow, loads of eyeliner. The makeup artist I had for the technical rehearsal made me up great--I loved my eyes! But unfortunately, I was forced to go to another makeup artist this time (due to time constraints) and despite my instructions, the new makeup artist put light green shadow on my lids, forsook the eyeliner, and made my eyes SLITS. I had to return to my old makeup artist and have her rectify the horrible mistake.)

Makeup actually took so long that we were worried about not finishing in time for the performance. Luckily, we did manage, with a little time to spare. But time does pass quickly when you're a bundle of nerves, and it seemed that five seconds later, we were being ushered backstage to begin taking our places onstage. My legs were JELLY as I headed towards my spot, and my hands were really cold. I uttered a silent prayer that things would go well, and the curtain rose.

I made loads of mistakes. Obvious ones. Considering that I was in the center, this was not a good thing. Regardless, I was amazed, because the Lord finally touched my heart. Our part of the concert dealt with the story of Jesus beginning from His triumphant entry into Jerusalem up to His resurrection, and my "character" was of a Roman citizen of sorts. When the Last Supper scene began, I felt Him tugging at my heart, and as we came to the Crucifixion scene, it was taking all my strength not to cry as I was vividly reminded of the sacrifice He had made for me--and what I had been doing with that knowledge as of late. With all my heart, I begged the Lord for forgiveness, and as we knelt before the cross with our heads bowed, I was not just playing a character. I was a sinner bowing at the foot of the cross. 

After the performance, a lot of picture taking went on. Sarah and I went to get pics with Sir Robbie (our choreographer) and Director Chinggoy, who assured us that we did great.

On Sunday, my mom convinced me to change my jeans because I had been wearing them for four days (dress code for the dress rehearsal, the technical rehearsal, and performances was white shirt and black pants--and I only own 1 pair of black). We ended up dredging up an old pair of slacks from when I was in like, high school second year, and they were way too short. But fine, at least they were clean, and they fit :D At church, our pastor talked about Jesus being the King of Kings, and I prayed at that moment that our last two performances (the matinee and the last show) would be completely dedicated unto Him as our expression of praise and worship.

By 10, we were back at the auditorium for our call time. We were so happy when he declared our show a success (we apparently gave him goosebumps), and he hoped that we would get even better (yep--making us imagine you up there with a shotgun pointed at us is very motivational, so you might want to try it again--not). Although I have to say, I wouldn't want to get on the bad side of Sir Robbie either--when he's mad, he's scary.

Our matinee performance wasn't too bad--I performed as well as I could unto the Lord, and also because I was praying that He would touch my mom's heart with the performance. I made some mistakes I hadn't made before, but rectified mistakes I had made before. But what mattered most was no longer the technical aspect--it was lifting up His name with all our might. After it, though, it began to hit me that the next performance was the last. The end. And it really saddened me, because as frustrated as I had been, the experience really was wonderful. Seeing Jesus's story played out before my eyes had ignited my spirit, and I feared losing that fire once the concert was over. But as I spoke to God about my fears, He reminded me that the ultimate source of my fire was not from the concert, but the Holy Spirit who dwells in me always. My sadness lifted, and I knew I could go on and give my very best in the last show.

I came to realize once more how God can always turn something into good. My past experience with an ex-crush--and how I learned to lean on Jesus in that time--was used by Him as I counseled a friend to trust and be content in Him. I also had the joyous privilege of praying for that same friend as she shared the Gospel to a makeup artist.

With all my heart, I continued to lift up the last show's performance to the Lord. And even as we began, my prayer continued--joyous but humble, weak but powerful because I knew it was He who gave me strength. I let the music, the dialogue, and the depictions move me, and as we took our final bows, I gave thanks, because I knew that we had given our best to the God who gave us all.

Aleluia!

Finally...the 90th anniversary concert...happened. Actually, it didn't just happen--it burst onto the scene, in full color and with full voices and hearts lifted up to the Lord.

It's been a incredible journey--beginning in around May, and ending in November. I remember so well when the church choir first struggled with the new music (my initial reaction was, Filipino? Oh, great). It seemed we were never going to get them down, except maybe for Ama Namin, which was the simplest piece of the three we were singing. By June, we were ready to strangle Mr. Jerry Dadap, or whoever it was that wrote Osana and Aleluia. Around the same month, we finally found out what the songs were for: St. Stephen's High School's 90th anniversary celebration. 

I was facing a pretty serious dilemma when sign-up sheets for the concert started going around. At the time, I was so stressed out from school and stuff that all I could think about was, "third week of November? That's final project week! And I have thesis! No way I can perform." I wasn't even sure I wanted to, to be honest. I had lost my faith in God, and was looking too much at my own schedule. 

Things were moving along in this vein until August arrived. It was the last chance to join up/leave--the costume designers were there to take our measurements, and if we missed them, it was for good. I was ready to refuse once more--but then by the grace of God, I found out that Netty was joining up too. Now, she was pretty much in the same situation--we were both DLSU students, and both facing similar school pressures. Both she and Sarah reminded me that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity--how often does your alma mater turn 90? I was in even more confusion than before, because I thought I'd made up my mind about it. But the Lord threw a wrench in my plan. He was prodding me, as He had been for some time. He would guide me and make a way for me--once I let Him work.

It took some time, but finally, I relented. I said to Him, "Lord, you know what I have to go through next term. But I place my time and everything else in Your hands. I claim Your promise, Lord, that nothing is impossible for God." I asked Atsi Pat (feeling rather embarrassed and with a red face), if I still join. She sent me off to costumes immediately, and in my heart, despite the lingering fears, I knew I was doing the right thing.

So, my grandma is crying almost all the time now :( Whenever one of us leaves for work/school, she starts sobbing and going on about how we ungrateful youngsters have abandoned her, etc.

I wish I didn't get so easily annoyed with her. She's almost a hundred, for one, which is an amazing blessing from God that He's letting her to be with us this long. And since I'm in Psych, I should know better that with her Alzheimer's, it's not like she can help it.

I wish I could guide her better in her new Christian life. 99 years old and recently born-again--how incredible is that? But it feels like I'm not getting the value of this, and leaving her to her own devices (and to her maid).

Especially after hearing about Mave's Papi...I want to appreciate my grandma more. I try to pray for the strength to be understanding and patient, and to be less self-absorbed, but sometimes it fjust feels...difficult.

On a lighter note, a big HI!!!! to my friends list on here! :D

 Nikki leaves for Taiwan in four days. It's been over a month since I first found out, and it's amazing how time has seemed to fly since then. 

A random observer might say that there are times when we've been out of touch for a long time and it hasn't seemed like a big deal. But all I can say is that it's totally different. In those instances, she was in the country. But now, she's a three-hour plane ride from here.

I guess my biggest worry is that the grteater distance might open up a gap in our bestfriendship. When we see each other again in four months, how much more different will we be due to our experiences? How well will our opinions still jive? Will we continue to be able to relate to each other? (Hmmm, this could be a thesis topic).

I suppose I could look at it in another way and say that it had to happen, as this is a stage we all have to go through eventually. As we grow up (some more), we'll all definitely be going different paths as people, and we won't stay frivolous teenagers forever. The changeophobic in me must learn to accept this, and early, so that I won't get thrown in my working life like I'd been in college and when I first entered high school. The avoidant in me must start breaking out, and accepting the radical idea that it's about time we all start training to be adults.