(When I was giving recollection to high school students. It gives me the willies. Nonetheless, it’s all about the angels. Things aren’t the way the way we look at them from a distance. Thus, the difference between appearance and reality.)
It is noble to learn from stories or even nobler to learn from experiences themselves; however, the best of all is to learn from both. I am usually troubled by the thing recollection giving. I’m far too unrelenting to give one if only I could say no. It gives me a nauseating stomach every now and then, thinking that my good might not be enough after all to give to these individuals the thing they suppose to gain. That every thing might turn out to be worst, once again. Besides that fact that I’m not too prepared, I have these low public disposition. I’m so down-esteemed when it comes to facing and drawing the crowds; that I might just be huddled behind my company.
However, everything turns out to be like a blessing in disguise, in a nutshell, I superbly enjoyed the activity. I did even perhaps gain the most copious fruit of that activity for life. Really, oftentimes things are not as they seem to us. This palpable experience respectively orchestrate the narrative story of he two angels which was kept few pages in my module. It is a consequential story wherein two angels who looked for an asylum on the first house they tried to knock. They came in to the house of a wealthy merchant. But they were kept warm over the night at a stingy compartment. Consequently, the older angel found a hole at the wall of the house. The older angel covered and fixed it.
The next day, the angels found rest at the house of a farmer couple. They were snootily kept on the bed. With kindness and compassion to these straying angels, they were even fed with finest bread the farmers could ever had. But in the morning, the wife was weeping for their only milking cow was dead. The younger angel indignantly complained to the older angel, “the rich man treated us badly but you fixed the hole in his house, and yet this farmer who kept us really warmed and well fed was deprived of their only living instead.” The older angel replied, “when we were at the merchant’s house, I saw gold stocks in the hole, so I covered it knowing that the merchant is of greedy character. But last night when the angel of death came to get the farmer’s wife, I gave him the milking cow instead.” Really, things are not what they seem to be.
I was caught in surprise when, upon arriving at the place were we are suppose to have our weekly “Buklod” (a sort of prayer meeting) meeting, our Buklod coordinator was already conducting her or their own “buklod” meeting themselves; together with her tong – 8 chums.
