Draft for Querencia

As I walk into the vibrant & calming array of St. Theresa's church, my eyes widen for the first time, seeing all the new renovations made to it. I was speechless, just gazing at how classy & unique it turned out to be. As my mouth opened in awe & astonishment, I walked down the aisle, letting my hand slide over every bench I pass by. My eyes were set on the marble cross over the altar. How different it seemed somehow overwhelmed me.

I thought back to when I was in Kindergarten. I couldn't help but wonder if this was actually the place I grew up in. All the memories came back to me; going into the church w/ my mom & brother early in the morning, being the first ones there, waiting for school to start, having morning prayers w/ the whole school, going to mass every Friday, getting reconciled & finally led up to our eighth grade graduation.

My favorite memory growing up would have to be my eighth grade graduation because it was a day filled w/ tears & mixed emotions. All in all, I felt surprised, yet crushed, as if there was a lot to think about. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to leave my past behind even though as I reached junior high, majority of them were things that I didn’t want to ponder on, that I would just move on. Walking down the aisle of the church w/ my fellow classmates whom I've had the pleasure of being w/ practically my whole life, I knew I was going to miss it all, despite all the thrilling & anxious moments in my life.

Growing up in this church, I've met a lot of new people, some who taught me lifelong lessons. They've become my second family & they've been through almost everything w/ me. Although they're all adults, most of them showed me my love & passion for singing in that very church. They were the ones who taught me to never be afraid to live out my faith. My first inspiration would have to be my music teacher, Mrs. Bernie. I admire her pessimism & her enthusiasm when it came to music. She wasn’t the kind of person who would let others bring her down; all she cared about was God’s opinion. Mrs. Bernie was w/ me since the first day I ever stepped foot onto the campus. My second inspirations are my Mama Fay & Manong Joel. Although I haven’t known them as long as I knew Mrs. Bernie, they’ve made a major impact on my life. As I found out that I was related to my Manong Joel, my relationship w/ both of them began to grow stronger. Till this day, they’d pick me up from school & together, we’d proceed to our youth ministry practices. Each of them give me hope because despite all the stress from the time when they were adolescents till now, they always keep their head up high & they let God & music lead their way. Honestly, if it wasn’t for them three, I wouldn’t be who I am today, which is strong headed & independent. & without their little ‘push’ from time to time, I would be a lazy slouch watching television on the couch.

Ever since I graduated, the church is the only place now where I'm able to see all the people I had memorable memories w/. When I was in eighth grade, I felt that my service to God wasn't enough. I wanted to do more. In eighth grade, I decided to be an altar server, but I could honestly say that I was very hesitant about it. After all these years of being the one to watch them, I finally got to be one. As the altar servers process up, I glance at all the people staring at us. When I first started out, my lips would tend to tighten, my heart would start pumping, & my knees would start to buckle up & start to tremble. All I cared about was making a mistake in front of all these people. As it began to be an every week type of thing, I grew out of the nervousness that I used to feel. Every Sunday, I always set the table for Communion & I would have to say that setting the table was one of the biggest challenges for me. From time to time, I still do observe the veterans & how they do the things that I’m just afraid to do, such as doing the incense. Other than that, I’m still trying to grasp everything.

Honestly, I never really understood the concept of being an altar server. I just thought of them as helping the priest. The first time I ever wore the alb, I had this feeling of excitement which flowed through my veins. I knew that my faith & belief in God changed; that the altar servers weren't just helping the priest, they were serving God. As my love for God developed tremendously, I wanted to do more. I decided to join the youth ministry. One lesson I learned was to never give up, even though you've made a mistake. So when I'm song leading, it shouldn't matter if I missed a note, cracked, or said a wrong word, all that mattered was the words & what it meant. Aside from that, I've gained courage & got over the nerves to sing in front of a crowd. Although it was nothing like a performance, I feel proud of doing it.
This church isn't just some building to me. It's where I lived my childhood worshipping God. Ever since then, I've changed into a better person because of God & everyone who led me towards the right path. I've been taught to trust God when it came to my struggles & hardships. When I'm in St. Theresa's church, I feel whole & pure. I know what I'm doing & it's a place where I can be myself.

Querencia

          

First Draft Essay

As I grew up from a young, curious child to a mature adolescent young lady, throughout all those years, I still see my mom cooking the same old dessert, Bibingka. As that little child, I didn't understand why she made it all the time. I guess I didn't have the tendency to ask. My mind just wandered & I just let the questions flow in my head. It was as if I was saving them for later & I believe that later is... now. After this interview, I learned so much about the food & the hidden stories behind it. All my questions about what & why were all answered.

I remember back in the day, I used to wake up at 3 in the morning to sneak a midnight snack. You see, as a kid, there was always something about my dreams that would get me all excited. Till this day, I still don't know what it was. So as I open the door discreetly, I drag my petite feet & try to hold my weight up so I wouldn't knock out on the floor. I felt as if I were an old Nana (grandma), with my back all bent & lazy-like. I look over to my parent's door & I see it slightly open. As I walk over to the kitchen, I spot the light open. I think to myself skeptically, "What are my parents doing this early in the morning?"

I rub my eyes gently because they were still half closed. I creep in slowly & take a peek to see what was going on. I begin to smell the warm sweetness of something & my mouth just started to water uncontrollably. Right then & there, I knew my mom was making Bibingka. I caved so I crept into the kitchen like my dog, Cookie as quietly as I could to see if my parents would notice that I even woke up. They didn't notice, that's a relief. I climbed onto the chair & I just stared for a good 3 minutes right at the fluffy, golden brown delicatessen. At that moment, I didn't care about anything other than what I was looking at.

My tummy just started to growl & I just remembered that I was there for one reason & one reason only, my midnight snack! I saw that my mom cut the bibingka into square pieces & I saw that a piece was already taken, so one piece for myself wouldn't hurt right? As sneaky as I was, I took a piece & crawled out of the kitchen towards the living room. I got situated on the couch & turned on the television. The dessert was still tremendously hot so I switched the dessert back & forth, left to right every few seconds. The puff of the smoke coming from the petite- looking dessert brushed up against my face & the smell just lingered up my nostril. I started to get the feeling of chicken skin & the excitement flowed into my skin, making me feel all tingly & bubbly inside.

I took my first bite out of it & the taste just melted into my mouth. I savored every bite of it, enjoying every ounce of flavor. I munched on the coconut & the fluffiness of the dessert. All I thought about was the taste, why it tasted the way it was, perfect, light, creamy, etc. I always save the best for last, the custard part. When I took my last bite, I fell to pieces. I really wanted another one. I heard my parents taking out another pan so I assumed they were making another batch.

I wanted to se ehow they made it this time, but I didn't want to make it obvious that I've been to the kitchen earlier. So I walked in like a normal sleepyhead, rubbing my eyes precariously. I actually pulled it off. I coughed a small cough to get my parent's attention. They looked at me in a weird/skeptical way. I knew what was running through their head, so I automatically said, "I heard something in the kitchen, so out of curiousity, I wanted to see what it was." I sat down at the dinner table & watched as my parents brought out the a big red bowl, which is my mom's favorite bowl to use when it comes to making desserts.

I watched how she measured all the ingredients precisely & accurately. First, I watched as she carefully poured the flour into the bowl. The flour was creating an array of white puffy smoke that filled the air. Second came the milk, eggs & sugar. The way she simply cracked the eggs open, the quickness of how she did it caught my attention. The directions weren't intricate at all. It was quite easy to follow actually & that's what caught me; the fact that maybe it wasn't as easy as pie, but it's the thought & practice that mattered. Third came the vanilla extract & the melted butter. & lastly, I watched as my mom trickled the grated medium cheddar cheese & the shredded fresh young coconut meat. She mixed all of that together a certain way: round & round, side to side, round & round & round. My mom took out another bowl for the custard topping. This was another simple thing to understand. All she did was break 4 eggs and pour a can of evaporated & condensed milk. Again, she mixed that, not in a certain way though. She cooked the Bibingka first & as it was done cooking, she took it out of the oven to pour the topping. She put it back in the over for another good 30 minutes. I watched the oven w/ the Bibingka inside of it silently & mesmerizingly. I watched the timer as it said 1 minute left. All I heard was the clock ticking & tocking w/ my foot tapping w/ the beat of it. DING! Mom pulled out the Bibingka. My patience was relieved & settled as the smoke from the Bibingka blended w/ all sorts of flavor. Yum! I smelled the coconut & the cheese mixed into one.

I looked at my mom & saw pride & joy in her eyes. She worked so hard on it & only now I got to see how much devotion & effort she put into making this one little dessert. She tries her very best to make it perfect. I never knew a small dish like that would mean so much. Now I know.