MIlky and Sunny: Breakfast Lovin'!

Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. More than the health benefits I get out of it and the comfort of the morning sun while eating, it's the food choice that I love the most. From tinapa to bacon to stacks of pancakes and corned beef, name it! I definitely love 'em. In fact, my obsession for breakfast made me want to have an all-day breakfast resto, which unfortunately to date is still at bay. 

In the mean time, I content myself in hopping from one breakfast resto to the other. I love the old Heaven and Eggs and Flapjacks. Of course, let us not forget the breakfast buffet in hotels. :) Yuumm!

Last month, I was able to visit a soooper interesting restaurant called Milky and Sunny. It prides itself as serving comfort food with a whole lot of lovin'. I have heard about it previously but I can't remember why I was not able to swing by and try it out. So, when my friend Mia and I (joined by Denise) had a day out, we decided to treat ourselves a brekky-dinner and give Milky and Sunny our verdict. Being breakfast food lovers, this resto must be ready. Here are some of the pieces of evidence: 

Upon entering the resto, this very bright wall will great you.
A super pretty blue, glass chandlier hangs right atop it.



People closest to me would know that I grew up with the nickname Pache. It was a morphed version of “Fache”, which was coined by my dad after annoyingly mixing “Fatima” and “Michelle” together. That came up because at five, I grew fond of the name Michelle after hearing the Beatles sang their song with the same title. I loved that song so much that I wanted to change my name to Michelle. Pache had another version: "Che", an abbreviation. 

I was named Ma. Fatima by my parents. Although an Arabic name which means "the shining one" and popularly known as Mohammad's daughter's name, my parents gave me the name Fatima because of a more Catholic reason. According to my mom, weeks before I was born, my dad dreamt of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who at one time appeared to three shepherds in Fatima, Portugal. Hence, the title Our Lady of Fatima. Being devout Catholics, they named me in her honor. Interestingly though, I stumbled upon an article in the internet that Fatima Zahra, daughter of Mohammad and Mary, mother of Jesus are likened to each other by the members of their respective faiths.  "Ma." was an abbreviated form of Maria, Spanish for Mary. 

In grade school, my classmates would call me Fatty no matter how thin I was, as it was conveniently the first two syllables of my name Fatima. But when I reached high school, a classmate started calling me Faith. Apparently, her cousin named Fatima was fondly called Faith in their family. Then, that name got stuck. 

I read and heard how a name affects the character of a person—precisely why elders would be very meticulous in giving names to newborns. We can recall how in fairy tales would the fairy godmothers hover around their godchild and giggly suggest names that reflect virtues which they feel would be something the kid would possess as he/she grows up. In the Catholic tradition, it was suggested that children would be named after saints so as they grow, they can learn to emulate their namesake. But with the evolution of more modern names, we somehow lose this tradition.

The Bible was also filled of etymologies and meanings of names. More interestingly though, was the changing of names when God ordains certain people for specific tasks. Jacob was renamed to Israel when he wrestled with God; Simon was renamed to Peter (meaning "rock") when Jesus entrusted to him the Church; and Saul, a prime critic of the Christians during the Early Christianity bore the name of a King in the Old Testament was changed to Paul (meaning "little") when he became Christian. Then, he learned the value of humility. The name change somehow suggest an entirely, huge change in the person. As if a new person was created and the old was gone.

In a conversation with a friend, I realized that perhaps, God allowed my nickname "Faith" to stick to remind me that I must bear the true meaning of my name. Through the years, I realized that I lack the ability to trust my talents, skills, choices--ultimately myself. This distrust led to a long line of stories of mistrust to people, poor judgment as to who to trust and fear of simply letting go. My friend, rightly put it: "You just got to embrace faith, Faith." More than faith as synonymous to trust, I knew it also meant I got to embrace the whole of who I am. No pretenses. No conditions. No expectations.

And perhaps, when I become successful in doing that, I will emerge to be that better and more brilliant person that God intended me to be. ♥ 


yet another paranormal experience

I had yet another paranormal experience last night. For quite a while now, I have been paranormal-free until this happened. 

I was sleeping on the couch in my friend, Angel’s (not her really name), living room which was against a wall with a large window. The property beside it was owned by a relative but was an empty space, more like a huge cemented parking lot. I cannot sleep but I thought it was because of the coffee we had after dinner. I was tossing back and forth until I had my back was against the wall. I started feeling that there was a man in white standing outside of the house, by the window. For a while, I ignored it, thinking perhaps it was my imagination working to entertain my very awake and bored self. Nevertheless, I felt that the seeming presence behind me was growing its intensity. Surely, it was making itself felt and noticed. His presence was still, but very commanding. I felt that he was just standing still but his eyes were scanning the whole living room as if diligently and carefully searching for something—or yet someone. However, no matter how pervasive his presence was, I somehow felt he did not meant any harm. Still, I hid myself under the sheets as if it can protect me. Then thoughts started to freely pour in my mind. He revealed himself as a man—a father, looking for his daughter. At this, I immediately interrupted the gush of thoughts and emotions. I learned from a priest-mentor that sensitive people should not communicate with spirits but in times of intense sensitivity, pray and call unto Jesus. I prayed but I still woke up Cris (not her real name), my partner and sister of my Angel, who was sleeping beside me. She too has paranormal sensitivity. By just looking at me, she knew something was wrong. She instantly pulled me up and warned me not to tell her anything. She said we’ll talk about it in the morning as we walk up to the second floor of the house. We decided to sleep beside her nieces, Angel’s daughters.  

I was filled with fear. Something of an oddly different kind. I asked myself why in the world I would encounter something like this. I was checking my internal condition as I repeatedly say formula prayers beneath my breath. I asked Jesus to stand in the gap between me and the spirit—whatever it was. I prayed that if in any case he was a disturbed soul of a departed may God’s peace be with him. Finally, I fell into sleep. 

In the morning, Angel asked us why we transferred from the couch to the room. With goose bumps, I told her what happened the previous night. She had her conclusions of who the man could be and why he was there. Apparently, he must be a deceased member of his husband’s family coming with a very urgent purpose. 

I was a bit relieved telling her the story but at the same time, freaked out of how the message can turn out to be. But at the end of it all, I knew that this experience was greatly used by God to awaken my seemingly sleeping faith. The fear was so overwhelming that I knew only God’s love can conquer and no matter how bleak the possibilities of that encounter may be, hope abounded that it can allow reconciliation, faith and love to settle in her husband’s family. I was also reminded of God’s omnipotence—that it is him alone that has the power over all forces. 

This noon, I decided to hear mass and offer it to the soul of that deceased person. I also prayed for those whom he left here on earth. Whether he was really coming back for whatever purpose, I felt that offering prayers for the eternal repose of his soul will surely help. I know God is in control and there is nothing to fear.