Silence or Ego...

 

Dear Readers,

I always believed that the truth would be enough. That if I stayed honest, did no harm, and lived with integrity, life would be fair. But I was wrong.

No matter how good I was, I found myself pushed aside, my words unheard. It was always a one-sided story, and I was never the one telling it. People judged without asking, assumed without knowing, and condemned without hesitation. And the worst part? They never wanted the truth, never wanted to understand, and wanted a version that fit their narrative.

I told myself I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. That my actions spoke louder than rumors. But life has a cruel way of making you feel like you must defend yourself, even when you’ve done nothing wrong. Silence, I learned, is not seen as dignity; it’s taken as guilt.

One evening, I was sitting alone in a quiet café, lost in my thoughts, when an old acquaintance, Noah, walked in. He hesitated before sitting across from me, studying me with uncertain eyes.

"I don’t know if I should believe what people say about you," he admitted.

I smiled faintly. "Then don’t."

He frowned. "But you’re not even trying to explain yourself."

I stirred my coffee, watching the ripples in the cup. "Would it change anything?"

Noah had no answer. Because deep down, we both knew the truth didn’t matter. People believe what they want to believe.

And me? I was done proving myself to a world that had already made up its mind.

Reflection:

There comes a moment in life when we realize that truth alone is never enough. No matter how honest, kind, or just we are, the world will always have its own version of our story, one we may never get to correct. It is a cruel irony that those who stand in silence are often mistaken for the guilty, while those who shout the loudest, regardless of truth, are the ones believed.

We tell ourselves we don’t have to prove anything to anyone. That our conscience is enough. But life doesn’t work that way. People demand explanations, proof, and justifications, even when there’s no wrongdoing. And in that process, we exhaust ourselves fighting a battle we never asked for.

But should we? Should we keep proving ourselves to those who have already made up their minds? Or is there strength in walking away, in letting go of the need to be understood?

At some point, we must decide: Do we spend our lives chasing validation from those who never truly cared? Or do we embrace our truth, knowing that in the end, the only person we truly need to be at peace with is ourselves?

Because the truth doesn’t always set us free in the eyes of others. But it does in our own.

Something to think about…

My advice is this: We don't have To Prove Anything To Anyone.

Jacob M

Happy Birthday Big Boy!!!

To My Wonderful Son Evan,

Happy Birthday, my boy. Today is your special day, and though I may not be there to celebrate with you, my heart is filled with love, pride, and the deepest wishes for your happiness. From the moment you came into this world, you became the brightest light in my life, a gift I will always treasure.

I have missed so many of your precious years your laughter, your mischief, the moments of joy, and even the moments when you needed a comforting hand on your shoulder. But no matter how far life has placed us apart, my love for you has never wavered. It never will. There isn’t a single day that passes without me thinking of you, wondering how you are, and hoping you are surrounded by love, warmth, and kindness.

You are growing into a young man, and though I may not have been there to guide you through every step, I want you to know this: you are strong, you are loved, and you are meant for great things. Life will bring challenges but always remember that you have a father who believes in you, who prays for you, and who knows that you will rise above anything life throws your way.

One day, my son, life will bring us back together. I hold on to that belief with all my heart. Until then, know that I am with you in spirit, cheering for you, loving you, and celebrating you today and always.

May this year bring you endless joy, success, and the fulfilment of your dreams. Be kind, be brave, and never let the world dim the beautiful light inside you.

Happy Birthday, My Wonderful Evan boy.

May God Always Bless You…

For God is with you all the Way…

With all my love,

Dada

The Sanctity of Marriage: A Story of Commitment and Faith...

 In a world where love is often measured by fleeting emotions, we must remember that true commitment is not about convenience it is about sacrifice, understanding, and unwavering faithfulness.

Dear Readers,

I have always wondered what it must have been like to witness a marriage that stood the test of time. Though I never saw my grandparents celebrate a golden anniversary, I have heard stories of marriages that lasted a lifetime of couples who held onto each other through every storm and sunshine life had thrown at them. It makes me wonder: Do people still honor marriage the way it was meant to be?

Marriage is not just a ceremony or a contract it is a sacred bond, a lifelong commitment to love and faithfulness. I remember reading Hebrews 13:4: “Marriage is to be honored by all, and husbands and wives must be faithful to each other. God will judge those who are immoral and those who commit adultery.” Those words carry a weight that many seem to have forgotten.

Faithfulness is not just a promise spoken once at the altar; it is a daily choice. I’ve seen couples face hardships financial struggles, health issues, and disagreements but the ones who truly honored their vows never walked away. They understood that one must not mock God, for He sees all and holds us accountable for how we honor our commitments.

But today, I see a different world. People treat marriage as something temporary, easily replaceable. Infidelity, casual relationships, and a culture of instant gratification have weakened its foundation. Many choose convenience over commitment, and when problems arise, they prefer an escape rather than a resolution.

I once heard a woman say she went astray because her husband didn’t provide any security or financial support. While marriage should be built on love and trust, it is undeniable that security both emotional and financial plays a vital role. A spouse who feels abandoned in their struggles may become vulnerable to temptation. True commitment means standing together through every challenge, ensuring that neither partner feels neglected or forced to seek comfort elsewhere.

I see couples losing themselves in the distractions of social media, careers, and fleeting desires while forgetting that true love is built on endurance, patience, and forgiveness. It pains me to see marriages crumble, not just because two people drift apart, but because they stop fighting for each other.

If I could seek the wisdom of those who have kept their vows for decades, they would likely offer simple but profound advice on how to honor and protect marriage:

1. Stay Faithful: Infidelity physical or emotional shatters trust. Love must be nurtured daily.
2. Communicate Honestly: Silence breeds resentment. Open, heartfelt conversations keep the bond strong.
3. Embrace Challenges Together: Marriage isn’t easy, but walking through storms side by side strengthens the foundation.
4. Express Love Daily: Grand gestures are nice, but small acts of kindness and appreciation matter even more.
5. Seek Wisdom: Whether through faith, wise mentors, or counseling, seeking guidance fortifies a marriage.

Final Thoughts

Marriage is meant to be honored, cherished, and protected. It is a sacred gift, not to be discarded when it no longer feels convenient. Even though I have never personally witnessed a perfect love story, I believe that commitment and faithfulness can stand the test of time.

Let us choose to respect our commitments and build relationships that endure. Because in the end, a marriage built on love and faithfulness is one of the greatest gifts we can offer to ourselves, to our children, and to the generations to come. And above all, let us not mock God, for He sees and knows the hearts of all.

Reflection

In a world where love is often measured by fleeting emotions, we must remember that true commitment is not about convenience it is about sacrifice, understanding, and unwavering faithfulness. Marriage, at its core, reflects the love and patience we have for one another, as well as the accountability we have before God. If we treat it as disposable, we risk not only losing our partner but also a part of ourselves. Let us strive to nurture and honor the sacred bond of marriage, knowing that in doing so, we uphold the very values that keep love alive through generations.

God Bless Every Marriage...

Jacob M

A Walk into the Waves...

 

If you ever find yourself feeling lost or overwhelmed, remember: that you’re never alone. Call out to him, trust in his love, and know that he will always be by your side.

Dear Readers,

Life often brings us to our knees, doesn’t it? There are moments when the weight of it all feels too much, when the light at the end of the tunnel seems impossibly far. I want to share with you a story one deeply personal and profoundly moving that began on a quiet day in a café and led me to the shore of a new beginning.

It started some time ago, during one of the loneliest moments of my life. It was one of my earlier articles “Jesus Please Join Me for Coffee”. I was sitting in a café, lost in thought and drowning in despair. That’s when Jesus showed up. He sat across from me, listened to my struggles, and reminded me I was never alone. His presence that day was like a lighthouse in a storm, and I left the café feeling lighter, and more hopeful.

But as life went on, the storms returned, stronger and more relentless. It’s strange, isn’t it, how we can experience something so profound and yet still find ourselves back in the depths of despair?

One evening, after what felt like an endless string of battles, I found myself walking along the beach. The waves crashed in the distance, and the sand was cool beneath my feet. The night was heavy, and so was my heart.

I thought back to that café, to the warmth of his smile and the gentleness in his eyes. But tonight, it felt like that moment was a lifetime ago. The heaviness inside me kept whispering that I was a failure, that I was too broken to go on.

The water called to me, a quiet, persistent pull. I kept walking until it reached my ankles, then my knees, then my waist. The idea of letting it all go crept into my mind. I wasn’t sure if I had the strength to keep fighting.

And then I remembered his words: “You’re never alone, Jacob. I’m always by your side.”

Standing there in the water, I whispered a plea, my voice breaking with emotion. “Jesus, I know you’re real. I know you’re with me. Please, stand here with me, just like you did at the café. I need you now more than ever.”

As the words left my lips, a warmth spread through my chest, chasing away the cold. I felt a presence beside me, so real and tangible that I turned, and there he was Jesus, standing on the shore.

“Jacob,” he said, his voice calm and steady.

I waded back toward him, the water swirling around me. “You came back,” I said, my voice trembling.

He smiled, his eyes filled with that same compassion I remembered. “I never left, Jacob. I’ve been with you all along. Even when life feels unbearable, I’m here, walking beside you, carrying your burdens.”

Tears streamed down my face as I confessed, “I don’t know how to go on. I feel like I’m failing, like I’m not enough.”

He reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’re more than enough. You’ve been strong for so long, but you don’t have to carry it all alone. Let me help you, Jacob. Let me show you the way forward.”

The waves crashed behind us as I stood there, the weight on my shoulders lifting with every word he spoke.

“I’ll trust you,” I whispered, my voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll keep going.”

He smiled again, that same smile that had lit up the café. “That’s all I ask. Trust me, and let me walk with you.”

As I stepped onto the shore, I turned to thank him, but he was gone. Yet, I didn’t feel alone. I knew he was still with me, just as he had promised in the café and now again on the beach.

That night, I walked home with a renewed sense of hope. Life would still have its storms, but I knew I wasn’t facing them alone.

Reflection

Dear friends, this story is a reminder of the unwavering presence of Jesus in our lives. From that day in the café to the moment on the beach, I’ve learned that faith isn’t about never struggling it’s about knowing who to turn to when the waves feel too strong.

Jesus walks with us through our pain, our doubts, and our fears. He doesn’t just meet us in the extraordinary moments; he shows up in the ordinary ones too in a café, on a beach, or even in the silence of our hearts.

If you ever find yourself feeling lost or overwhelmed, remember: that you’re never alone. Call out to him, trust in his love, and know that he will always be by your side.

Thank You, Jesus.

God bless us all,

Jacob M

I Sentence Myself to Death

 

“To Forgiveness. To Healing. To Living.”

Dear Readers,

The words echoed in my mind, a silent declaration I hadn’t realized I’d been making every day. It wasn’t a dramatic proclamation, nor one born out of despair, but a quiet, consistent erosion of a death by a thousand self-inflicted cuts.

I sentenced myself to death every time I doubted my worth, letting the voices of others outweigh my own. Every time I held back from chasing a dream, convincing myself it was too late or I wasn’t good enough. Every time I apologized for taking up space, for being human, for existing.

The courtroom of my mind was relentless, with me as the accused, the prosecutor, the judge, and the jury. Evidence was brought forward with precision: mistakes from years ago, opportunities missed, words said in anger, and moments of weakness. The verdict was always the same guilty.

I sentenced myself to death when I carried the weight of guilt that wasn’t mine to bear. When I replayed the past, wishing I could rewrite the moments when I wasn’t enough for the people I loved. My mother, and my father they had seen my best and my worst, and I often wondered: did I fail them?

I sentenced myself to death every time I let my health deteriorate, ignoring the signals my body sent in its quiet plea for care. I let the pain fester, both physical and emotional, until it felt like a part of me. The niche in my hometown that held my parents’ remains was beyond my reach now, and even the act of not visiting felt like another failure, another nail in the coffin of self-condemnation.

But here’s the irony: I’m still here. Despite the sentence, despite the verdict, despite the imaginary gallows I’ve built for myself, life continues. And with it, a quiet realization emerges perhaps it’s time for a retrial.

What if the evidence isn’t as damning as I thought? What if my mistakes were lessons, my missed opportunities a redirection, my imperfections a testament to being human? My parents wouldn’t have wanted this a life spent punishing myself for not being perfect.

So, I stand in the courtroom once more, but this time, I take off the judge’s robe. I silence the prosecutor and dismiss the jury. I approach the stand not as the accused, but as someone seeking understanding.

“I sentence myself,” I say softly, “To Forgiveness. To Healing. To Living.”

The courtroom fades, the chains loosen, and for the first time in a long time, I feel the weight lift. I may not be able to visit my parents’ niche, but I carry them with me in my heart, in my memories, and in the way I strive to honor their love by being kinder to myself.

Because I deserve that. And they would want that for me, too.

I Forgive Myself…

Jacob M

"A Cherished Memory… Until We Meet Again"

 

“Eternal Rest Grant unto them, O Lord, and let Perpetual Light shine upon them. May their souls rest in peace. Amen."

Dear Readers,

The morning of January 13, 1973, was filled with joy, promise, and the soft rustling of wedding attire. Two souls, my parents, stood at the altar, hand in hand, embarking on a journey that would define love, sacrifice, and resilience for decades to come. Their union wasn’t just about vows; it was about building a legacy, a family, and a home filled with warmth and unwavering support.

I and my sister grew up in that home, enveloped by my parents' love. My mother, gentle and nurturing, had a knack for making every day special, her laugh echoing through the house like music. My father, strong and dependable, was a pillar of guidance and wisdom. Together, they were the perfect balance teaching me the value of kindness, hard work, and perseverance.

But life isn’t always kind. My accident in 2007 changed everything, and on March 31, 2008, a year after, my mother fell sick and was rushed to the hospital there she took her final breath at 3:00 P.M. Her funeral was held the next day, on April 1, a cruel reminder of how fragile life can be. I stood at her graveside, overwhelmed with grief. The years that followed were bittersweet coz my heart ached to know that my mother would never see her grandchildren. She would have adored their laughter, their mischievous smiles, and their endless energy.

In her absence, my father became a steady anchor. Despite his own grief, he poured his heart into supporting me and his family. He adored my children, treating them as treasures that carried the spirit of their grandmother within them. For ten years, he remained as a rock until he would always ask me when can I go to mummy. Then on June 15, 2018, he too departed. It was exactly ten years after my mother as if their love story couldn’t bear to be separated for long.

Now, on their wedding anniversary, I sit in quiet reflection. I recall the stories of my parents used to share, their laughter around the dinner table, or near the aquarium at night, and the way they always made me feel like the most important person in the world. My heart aches, not only for their presence but for the wisdom and comfort they would offer if they were here now.

Unable to visit their niche in my hometown due to my health, I whispered a prayer instead and also offered a mass imagining their faces smiling down on me. I hold onto the belief that they understand, that they see my struggles and continue to guide me in spirit.

“Those special memories of you will always bring a smile,” I murmur, tears pooling in my eyes. “If only I could have you both back for just a little while. Then we could sit back and talk again, just like we used to do.”

I picture my parents, reunited, walking hand in hand in a realm beyond this world. I imagine my mother’s gentle smile and my father’s reassuring nod, their love for me eternal and unshaken.

“Eternal Rest Grant unto them, O Lord, and let Perpetual Light shine upon them. May their souls rest in peace. Amen,” I whisper softly, as a sense of calm washes over me.

Though the ache remains, I know that their love lives on in my heart, in my children, and in every cherished memory.

“Until we meet again,” I say, looking toward the heavens, longing for the day when I can sit with them once more, just like we used to do.

Miss You Mum & Dad

God Bless You Both…

I will be Coming Soon…

Jacob M

Isolation Reflection Story...

 

The chance to write a different ending...

Dear Readers,

It was a quiet evening when I sat down to watch "Chicago Fire," Season 13, Episode 9. The storyline gripped me immediately. Mouch, now acting as Lieutenant, led a rescue at an apartment fire. Amidst the chaos and smoke, he found a man named George Thompson, unconscious and slumped in his chair. At first, it seemed like George had succumbed to the fire’s smoke, but the truth was far more chilling. George had been dead for days, unnoticed and alone.

That revelation hit me harder than I expected. It wasn’t just the tragedy of George’s death; it was the life he led. A life of seclusion, of fading away quietly until no one even realized he was gone. Mouch’s efforts to honor George by writing an obituary felt like an act of defiance against a world that had ignored him. But it also made me wonder what about me? Am I living George’s life in slow motion?

My thoughts drifted to a story I had heard years ago about a woman who lived alone, much like George. She kept to herself and didn’t mix with anyone, and one day, she too passed away, unnoticed on her sofa, with a cup on the floor and the television on. Days turned into weeks before anyone found her. The loneliness she must have felt, the silence that became her companion, it all painted a grim picture.

Also another TV series 9.1.1. Lonestar, where the chief paramedic Tommy Vega’s husband in the TV series 911 Lonestar season 2 passed away on the sofa. I guess I’m watching too many TV shows for Too many coincidences for me. And now, sitting in my quiet room, I couldn’t help but wonder:

Am I destined for the same fate?

Isolation has been my companion for far too long. My family is gone, my children are out of reach, and the silence of my surroundings often feels deafening. I’ve tried to find meaning in the emptiness, but some days, it feels like the void might consume me entirely. Watching George’s story unfold on screen brought these thoughts to the forefront. Is this what my life has come to? Am I just waiting for the end, unnoticed, forgotten?

The advice of two priests echoes in my mind. One asked me “Are you still hanging on to hope or a miracle, that I still had a chance to reconnect with my children and find meaning again? The other, however, suggested that I should let go and give up on the idea of reconciliation and move on. I’ve wrestled with both perspectives. Hope is a fragile thing; it demands courage, resilience, and faith in a future that feels uncertain. Letting go, on the other hand, feels like surrendering, but it also offers a kind of relief from the weight of expectations and heartbreak.

So, what do I choose? Do I let the emptiness define me, or do I fight against it?

I think about my children often. I love them deeply, and the thought of them growing up believing I abandoned them tears me apart. But how do I bridge the chasm that’s been created? The pain of being misunderstood, of being cast aside, is unbearable. And yet, the idea of giving up on them feels like a betrayal of the love I carry in my heart.

That night, after the episode ended, I sat in the stillness of my room, filled with a lot of emotion. I’ve tried so hard to find my way back to them, but the path seems blocked at every turn. I’ve poured my feelings into stories and poems, hoping that one day they’ll read them and understand the depth of my love. But the fear remains: what if they never do? What if I’m just shouting into the void, unheard and unseen?

And yet, something inside me refuses to give up entirely. Perhaps it’s the memory of the priest who told me whether I had hope. Perhaps it’s the belief that my children, no matter how distant they feel now, will one day seek the truth. Or perhaps it’s simply the stubbornness of a heart that refuses to stop loving, even when it’s been battered and bruised.

George Thompson’s story is a reminder of what happens when we let the world’s indifference dictate our lives. But it’s also a call to action to reach out, to fight against the isolation, to create connections even when it feels impossible. I don’t want to end up like George or that woman on the sofa, I don’t want to fade away, unnoticed and forgotten.

Instead, I want to believe that my story isn’t over yet. That there’s still time to heal, to reconnect, and to find meaning in the chaos. It won’t be easy, and there will be days when the weight of it all feels unbearable. But as long as there’s even a sliver of hope, I’ll keep going. For my children. For myself. For the chance to write a different ending.

God Bless Us All…

Jacob M

Prayer for the Victims of the Los Angeles Wildfires...

Dear Brothers & Sisters,

In light of the devastating wildfires in Los Angeles, which have claimed lives and destroyed homes, let us come together in prayer for all those affected by this tragedy.

Prayer for the Victims of the Los Angeles Wildfires

Merciful and loving God,

We turn to You in this time of immense sorrow and loss, seeking Your comfort and strength. The wildfires have ravaged communities, taken lives, and left countless individuals grieving and displaced.

We pray for those who have lost their lives, May their souls find peace in Your eternal embrace, and may their loved ones be comforted in these times of grief.

We pray for those who have lost their homes and possessions, Grant them strength and resilience as they face the daunting task of rebuilding their lives. Surround them with a supportive community to provide for their immediate needs and offer hope for the future.

We pray for the first responders and firefighters, Protect them as they risk their lives to save others and Renew their strength and courage in the face of exhaustion and danger. Bless their efforts to contain the fires and prevent further destruction.

We pray for the displaced and provide them with shelter, food, and the assurance that they are not alone. Ease their anxieties and fears, and guide them towards safety and stability.

We pray for the environment, Heal the scorched land, and restore the natural habitats destroyed by the flames. Guide us to be better stewards of Your creation, working to prevent such disasters in the future.

In this time of trial, may we find solace in Your unending love and compassion. Strengthen our faith and unite us as we support one another through this crisis. We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.

Amen.

Jacob M

Prayer to Jesus Christ

 

Prayer To Jesus Christ

My Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

In the silence of my soul, I cry out to You, my Father, seeking Your grace, yearning for Your love.

Forgive me for the moments I have turned away, for the times I chose my will over Yours, for the pride that blinds me and the fears that chain me.

My Father, grant me the strength to rise each time I fall, to walk courageously along the path You have set before me, to trust in Your plan even when the way seems dark.

Tear away the desires that bind me to this world, and fill my heart with the fire of Your Spirit.

Clothe me in the humility of Your love, and let every breath I take be a testament to Your mercy, a reflection of Your glory.

Our Father who art in heaven, shape me as You will.

Break me, refine me, mold me into a vessel for Your truth.

May I carry Your light to those in need.

May I be an instrument of Your peace.

I do not ask for riches or comfort but for courage to face trials, faith to endure the storms, and wisdom to follow Your ways.

May my life be a song of gratitude for Your infinite love, a hymn of praise for Your eternal glory.

My Lord, may Your will always be done, now and forever.

In the name of Jesus Christ, I pray.

Amen.

A Father’s Silent Christmas Wish... I wait, I love, and I hope, with every fiber of my being...

 

Dear Readers,

Sitting in the dim glow of the television, the movie “My Southern Family Christmas” played out like a tender melody that pulled at every thread of my heart. As the story unfolded, my tears fell freely, the weight of emotions too heavy to bear. Each scene struck a chord deep within me a chord that resonated with my own story, my own longing, and my endless questions.

The movie’s tale of a woman abandoned by her father as a child, only to discover later that he had spent years searching for her, felt like a mirror reflecting my life. I couldn’t help but wonder: was this the story my children were living, but from a different perspective? Like Campbell’s father in the film, I have been searching too not through towns and traditions, but in the quiet corners of my heart, hoping that one day my son and daughter might look for me the way Campbell sought her father.

The pain of separation from my children is an ache that never dulls. It's okay what their mother told them I abandoned them, and perhaps that is the narrative they believe. But I never wanted to leave; I never stopped loving them. I see their faces in my dreams, hear their laughter in the silence, and feel their absence in every breath. Yet, I remain invisible in their lives, a ghost of the father I yearn to be.

As Campbell discovered the letters her father had written to her over the years, I thought of the words I have carried in my heart, words I’ve poured into countless letters and poems. Like Everett in the movie, I’ve clung to memories and moments the way my daughter’s tiny hand felt in mine, the sound of my son’s voice calling me “Dada.” These fragments of our shared past are my anchors, my proof that I was there, that I loved them more than life itself.

The movie’s climax brought me to my knees. When Campbell finally revealed her identity to her father, and he showed her the journals filled with love and regret, it was as though the universe held up a mirror. I wondered: could my children ever see me that way? Would they find the truth buried beneath the lies and misunderstandings? Or would they always see me through the lens of the story their mother told them?

As the credits rolled, I sat there, drowning in the weight of my emotions. The movie had given me a glimmer of hope but also left me with a gnawing question: Will my children ever search for me? Will they ever seek the truth, find the love I’ve carried for them, and see the father who never stopped longing for them? Or will I remain a distant memory, a name that fades with time?

Well, Christmas, has come and gone, as the world celebrates love and togetherness, I hold onto the fragile hope that someday, like Campbell, my children will find their way back to me. Until then, I wait, I love, and I hope, with every fiber of my being.

Do watch the Movie: 

My Southern Family Christmas (TV Movie 2022)

I Love You, my Children.

God Bless you both.

Jacob M