I was in Grade Five.
One of my teachers was young and pretty, and I thought she liked me too. Why did she look at me every time I looked at her?
After extensive research in the faculty room, I found out that she was only twenty-four. Aha! Can she wait for me until I grew older? I was only eleven, but what was thirteen years if our fierce love would conquer all that stood between us?
She still had problems remembering my name, but I figured this tiny problem would be solved once my name was inscribed on her wedding ring.
But later on, I realized it was rather silly for me to fall in love with a teacher.
Especially if she kept giving me low grades.
That was when I met Cedz and Dina…
Cedz was nice. She was the brightest in our class, and she had the cutest dimples.
And Dina giggled a lot, and had the longest eyelashes in the world.
Now the big question: Whom should I marry? Dimples or lashes?
Well, my problem was finally solved when I met Tintin.
Oh yes, I was wrong the last time. I was young then. Those were childish crushes. But now, this was true love. I was fifteen now. Tintin and I were totally meant for each other. How did I know? I loved the way she covered her mouth when she laughed…
Through the years, I’ve had a thousand other crushes with other dimples, lashes, braces, smiles, giggles, hair-clips, winks, laughs, scents, teeth…
I had my first girlfriend at 17.
We broke up, made up, broke up again, made up again…
Please repeat sequence 3000 times.
(Note: That’s why I’m one of those freaks that encourage young people to have boyfriends or girlfriends only after their college graduation. Their time and energy can be spent in more life-expanding activities than breaking up and making up for 3000 times.)
I courted another young woman when I was 25–and waited for her yes.
I gave her roses, chocolates, and serenaded her with love songs. I really had a super-duper fantastic time. Except for one slight tiny problem: She didn’t like me.
On that fateful night when she finally told me in the nicest, sweetest, most loving way, “Bo, get out of my life,” I cried buckets of tears.
But I wondered, “What is the lesson here? Can my tears be used for good?”
Because of the water shortage, I used my bucket of tears to flush the toilet.
The waiting continued–and it was excruciating.
What did God want me to do with my life?
At the age of 28, I met a beautiful young woman at my office–applying for work.
But at that time, I was seriously considering becoming a priest–or becoming a celibate layman–waiting for God’s go signal.
So I brushed romantic thoughts aside and decided to look at her the way I looked at a piece of furniture. So to me, she was one of the monobloc chairs in the office.
This strategy worked.
But sometimes, I found myself secretly gazing at this monobloc chair for no apparent reason.
I gave myself two years to discern if celibacy was my call. So no dating. No romantic actuations. No girlfriends.
At age 30, I went to a retreat on a mountaintop with no one else but God, my Bible, and a wise Jesuit priest, to finally decide what I wanted to do with my life.
One week later, I went down from the mountain with a mandate from the Almighty to get married.
And so I remembered that lovely monobloc chair in the office.
So I courted her.
I begged. I pleaded. I stalked her like a predator.
And when all that didn’t work, I quietly said, “I’m your boss. I’ll fire you if you don’t agree to my proposal.” She called my bluff and submitted her resignation papers the next day. In desperation, I closed my eyes and stretched my hands towards her and shouted, “IN JESUS NAME, you will fall in love with me! Shalalalala….”
Okay, that’s not how it exactly happened either.
The important thing is that at age 32, I married her–and it’s been an amazing journey.
Yes, life is a journey with lots and lots and lots of waiting.
And it seems as if nothing is happening right now.
We need to enjoy that journey–to relish, taste, celebrate, and breathe in all the waiting, all the detours, all the craziness, all the misfires and failures and bruises.
And I have also realized that everything that happens in life are lessons.
In other words, put your bucket of tears to good use.
No, I wasn’t serious about flushing the toilet.
Use your tears to make you more mature. Stronger. Wiser.
Always ask yourself the question, “What is this experience teaching me?”
Friends, learn all you can.
May your dreams come true,
Bo Sanchez
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