Yesterday, my children and I were together in a cab coming home from Project 8.  On Congressional Avenue, as we were nearing EDSA, at the stop light near the Shell gas station and the road that leads to Bago Bantay, our cab occupied the left-turn lane even though we were going straight.  And even though the light was red, he disregarded the stoplight.  Near EDSA, a cop was standing around, waiting for him and pulled him over. As the cop was walking toward our cab, the driver turned to me and told me: “Ma’am, pag tinanong kayo, sabihin niyo lang na nagmamadali kasi kayo. Back-up-an ninyo na lang po ako.”

The cop asked for the driver’s license and registration and the driver said, “Boss, sorry po, nagmamadali po kasi ang pasahero ko, pupunta po sa MCU, kailangang makarating sa ospital, 50-50 po kasi.”  All the time that the driver was telling him this, the cop was looking at me. I shook my head. So the cop asked me, “Ma’am nagmamadali po ba kayo?”  And I answered, “Hindi.  Wala akong sinabing ganyan.”

The cop took out his ticket but then looked at all of us and told the cabbie “Huwag po ninyong gawing dahilan ang pasahero ninyo.  Kahit na ano pa ang sabihin ng pasahero ninyo, kayo ang driver, alam ninyo ang batas.”  I don’t know if the driver handed the cop money or the cop just decided to let him off, but we were soon on our way. Fran and I were getting ready to pay the fare and get out of the cab.

The driver then said to me “Ma’am, sana sinabi na lang ninyo na nagmamadali kayo.”  By this time, I was angry.  “Kuya, kung gusto mong magsinungaling, ikaw na lang.  Abogada ako, I have to uphold the law, tama yung pulis.  Mali ka.  At wala naman akong sinabing nagmamadali ako, ikaw ang gumawa ng kuwento.”

“Eh, humihinigi lang naman ako ng tulong sa inyo” the driver insisted.  So I said “Kuya, nagtuturo ako ng Biblia, hindi tama sa harap ng Diyos ang magsinungaling.  At kasama ko pa ang mga anak ko, e di, para ko nang sinabi sa kanilang OK lang ang magsinungaling.  Ano’ng klaseng ina naman ba ako kung gawin ko iyon?”  And there was silence throughout the ride until we got off across MCU in Monumento,

On the jeep going home to Meycauayan, the kids said “Stupid driver.  He didn’t obey traffic rules and he wanted your help getting out of the mess he made.”  But the comment from my children I remember most was, “I was tempted to answer and say oo, nagmamadali kami.  But I knew it was wrong.  I couldn’t bring myself to say it.  That was a defining moment for us, right, mom?”

I have always wanted to be a mother.  I had always hoped to be the kind of mother whose children would rise and call “blessed.” But until now I still cannot say what kind of mother I am. Until yesterday, I wasn’t sure that I was accomplishing anything as a mother– that is, if my character as a person was imprinting itself on my children’s character for their good.  I now know that for better or for worse, my children’s character has been shaped by mine.  Time will tell if my influence on them will spur them to godliness or not.  Yesterday’s event gave me hope and courage to forge on.

On Saturday, I claimed my children’s report cards and I was happy with the progress report.  They are doing well. But the report cards were just evidence.  Their good grades may be the result of their hard work combined with a lot of luck and very generous teachers.  I cannot tell, really.  Their grades alone don’t define them as persons.  Their advisers said that they were well-behaved children in school, reasonable, ready to do the work assigned to them without fuss.  Again, that could be a gauge of my children’s characters, but then again, those statements may merely reflect the teachers’ impressions about the children.  As I have always maintained, report cards are evidence of hard work and intellectual labor but the weight of this evidence cannot be determined now.  Only time will be able to tell if what was learned becomes part of who my children become, if what they have learned propels them to choose to do what’s right in the sight of God.

It is difficult to be a parent, to be responsible for another human being, to knowingly or unknowingly shape their character by what I, as a parent say and do all the time.  Our children form their own values from their experiences with us.  And that is a scary thing.

The three of us were together on Friday during the 4th District Extemporaneous Speech Competition in Meycauayan.  My son won the school-wide competition and was representing Meycauayuan College at the District Competition.  The contest was scheduled at 1pm.  We were having lunch at a fastfood nearby when before eating, I prayed, “Lord, bless this food.  Calm our hearts.  We feel like David about to face Goliath today because Paolo will compete.  We trust that you will be with us no matter what happens, win or lose.  We hope to give you honor and glory.”

The image in my mind was confirmed when we registered for the competition.  Paolo looked so small compared to the other contestants: it did seem like he was David going against so many Goliaths.  The other contestants seemed confident and seriously trained. They seemed to me like dogs straining at the leash, ready to pounce. Paolo showed no nervousness or excitement.  He seemed calm and serious. Unlike them, Paolo’s best chance to win was his spontaneity.

The contestants were to be called in one by one and given a topic.  They will be given three minutes to think about the topic and three minutes to give a speech about the topic.  They will speak before a panel of three judges who were college deans and professors of English.

Only the coaches were allowed to sit in the audience.  The parents, garrulous as they are, were all standing outside the window of the air-conditioned room.  I avoided looking in when it was Paolo’s turn to speak.  I nodded to him as he passed me, he nodded back at me.  When he came out after giving his speech, he seemed relieved as he nodded again to me and I nodded back at him.  Paolo was the sixth to speak.  He won second place. I was near tears when I realized that I had raised a son so strong he can face stressful situations alone, without my help.  I was there only as support.

When his name was called, I jumped out of my seat. I touched his cheek and said, “Congratulations, anak. You did a good job.”  I was so surprised he won at all.  All the other students who were already called looked impressive and formidable as they stood on the stage. If I were to judge on appearances, Paolo seemed least likely to win.  I stayed and waited for the results not because I was expecting him to win.  I was hoping he would win.  Winning would mean validation for him.  But I stayed because I wanted to be there in case he was disappointed.  I had to be there whatever happened, win or lose. Hindi ko siya maiwanan.  I had to see things to the end.

Paolo seemed relieved that he won but he was also disappointed that he only came in 2nd.  I reassured him and told him that it didn’t matter because he was advancing to the Provicial Competition.  I told him that from the very start, we were expecting to ride the wave only as far as the wave would take us.  He didn’t join to impress anyone.  He joined because he had talent and his talent was crying out to be honed.

In order to make sense of the whole experience, I asked him what the topic was.  He said that it was “Responsible Social Networking: Think before you click.”  And so I asked him what he said.  He said he defined what social networking was and he gave an example of irresponsible use of social networking by giving the example of US Congressman Weiner.  Right there and then I knew why he won.  He accessed relevant news reports from his memory and applied them appropriately to the topic he was discussing.  His coach said that the girl who won first place really explained her side thoroughly.  This meant that Paolo was not able to clearly state his view up front but his stand was clarified by his skillful use of the the example of Congressman Weiner and that was why he won.  He used deductive reasoning while the judges favored inductive reasoning.

He was disappointed because he wanted an untainted winning streak.  He was happy but not very happy.  I reassured him that that was normal.  Winning second place will drive him to do better so that he can take first place at the provincial meet. A certain amount of dissatisfaction is fuel for the next competition.  It was an experience he needed to prepare him for the next phase. The goal was not just to win, but to win enough to advance to the next level.

As I thought about it, my children are talkers, just like me.  They started talking when they were just a year and two months old.  They use language precociously.  They use big words.  But unlike me, my son composes his thoughts and his speeches at lightning speed.  That is his advantage over his opponents. He can think fast while on his toes. He has a wide vocabulary and he has a vast store of information because he is a voracious reader.  He is accustomed to explaining things because we do it all the time at the house, over dinner, while watching TV, in the car.  Giving speeches is normal to him.  Persuading me to see his point of view is a common occurrence at our house.

As that competition was a defining moment for him, so it was for me.  I looked at the parents there who fussed over their children, giving their children last minute tips, pushing their children, willing their children to succeed. They were being “helicopter” parents, hovering over their children.  As their children were speaking, they were avidly enthralled, as though looking at their own reflection in a mirror. Nervousness and excitement were obvious on the parents’ faces even though they themselves were not competing. In short, they were stage mothers.

I looked at myself and I felt out of place. Unlike the other parents who were obviously competing alongside their children and through their children, I was just an involved spectator.  I was closely watching the competition because I had a stake in the competition: a win or a loss will affect me.  But it will affect me only because it will affect my son.  He was the competitor.  I was just there to lend support.  I stayed there so that he will be reassured that someone was there on his side, rooting for him, hoping he will win, and yet, if he lost, someone will still be there to tell him that it was ok.

When Paolo won, someone told me: you must be so proud.  And all I could say was that, no, I wasn’t proud, just happy and relieved; relieved that it was over, happy that my son’s skill and talent were recognized, happy that my son has found something he was extremely good at; he found something worth doing his best for; he found something that sets him apart from others; he has found his gift, maybe this gift can blossom into a ministry, an advocacy, a profession, a career.  Who knows? The win was just the cherry on the sundae, the icing on the cake.  My son has been given his defining moment, the opportunity to find the best himself, the opportunity to recognize his strength and his weakness, the opportunity to face fear and uncertainty and to find the courage to forge on despite the anxiety.  Now he has to discipline himself to do all that he can to sharpen his skills and hone his talent.  The Bible says that “even a child is know by his doings.”

To me, as a mother, it is my pleasure to watch my son and my daughter develop, like watching petals of a flower unfolding, watching a butterfly emerge from a cocoon. With rapt attention and breathless anticipation, I watch my children grow. This is my privilege as a mother. I am not proud of my children’s achievements: their achievements are theirs, they are accountable to God for them.  My children are my achievement.  They are gifts from God, they are my reward (Psalm 127:3) and I am accountable to God for them.  I hope to enjoy their company and to be thankful to God for their fruitfulness just like olive plants round about my table (Psalm 128:3).  I hope to be around, Lord willing, years from now,  to see my children’s children and to rejoice in them as well.