Notes from Ava's Diary
It's my fifth winery in Napa Valley for the day, and once again, at the end of the tour,the vitner brings out the Pinot Noirs and Cabernet Sauvignons they produced from the grapes in their property, and had happily asked me to taste their wine samplings, often getting the bottles from their wine cellars situated a few feet from where I was standing.
I had planned this vacation for six months, dreaming about seeing grapes hanging from the vine, gazing at its ripe, succulent fruit, bursting in colors of green and violent.
Instead of feeling ecstatic that I'm in the place where I had dreamed to be, I've been bothered by the constant text messages I've been receiving from Manila for the past hours which I've ignored repeatedly, and which remains unopened until now.
I've escaped Manila because I've refused to face so many problems which threaten to emotionally overwhelm me these past months : my boyfriend,who has proposed marriage recently,is addicted to porn; my Father is having an affair with his secretary and my Mother is turning out to be an alcoholic, drinking herself to oblivion night after night, despondent over my Father's indiscretions.
As a busy orthopedic doctor in Manila, my days are filled with marathon hours inside the operating room, oftentimes starting a surgical operation when the sun is up and coming out when the sun has set. In fact, I look out the window, and this is the first time in a long while that I've observed the setting sun in all its full glory.
A death in the family? I looked at the names of the senders and I didn't see any name from my immediate family, so I ruled out that tragic possibility. I scrutinized the names again, and my colleagues in the hospital, friends and classmates from medical school clogged the Inbox.
What in heaven's name happened in Manila? Was there a catastrophic earthquake that destroyed the hospital building where I worked? Perhaps a friend committed suicide?
I unhappily left the group who were converged around the bar at the Frank Family Vineyards in Napa Valley,and looked for a quiet place to sit down.
I opened my phone and looked at the first text message. Puzzled, I looked at all the messages and the words were all one and the same. Hayden Kho, scandal, sex video.
Oh my. After making sense of all the messages, I was at first shocked, then saddened. Here was a colleague in the medical profession - handsome, intelligent, rich, it seemed he had everything. Hayden was perhaps four to five years younger than I am. My doctor friends would nudge one another whenever they espied Hayden's photos in the newspaper, and a mixture of envy would creep up in all our conversations. . . how we all struggled in a very competitive city, where even the best post-graduate education in the United States or Europe did not guarantee a successful practice in the best hospitals, and yet here was someone who had it all, a guaranteed successful career and a promising relationship with a woman who seemed decent and faithful to him.
Was this the end for Hayden?
A nagging thought entered my head. And who was I to judge Hayden, when my life resembled a train wreck too? Who was I to judge when the people closest to me had feet of clay - flawed, imperfect and weak? My Father, my Mother, my boyfriend - all were blessed with a life that many would envy - material wealth; healthy,attractive bodies; intelligent,piercing minds, and yet, they were in the midst of serious mind-boggling immoral situations.
As for me? I was blessed with a brilliant mind and a compassionate heart, and yet I could not face my problems, fleeing a thousand miles away from home, instead of confronting the things that confound me.
I've left Manila week ago and I've been reading a lot of books, in between tasting the Chardonnays,Sauvignon Blancs and Zifandels offered by some of Napa Valley's 300 wineries.
In fact, this morning, I was reading Iyanla Vanzant's book "One Day My Heart Opened Up to You" and I was so engrossed I brought the book with me, planning to read it when I had time to stop and eat.
I ferret out the book inside my handbag and stare at it. I looked around at the beautiful scenery, miles and miles of grapevines, all in a straight row, seemingly endless, its end nowhere in sight. If there's any place to read a book, and reflect on its contents, this is the place. I open Vanzant's book and looked for the page where I ended this morning, found it and settled to read. Despite being an award-winning and bestselling author of "Faith in the Valley" and "In the Meantime", Vanzant was helpless in helping a brother who had been drugging and drinking now for about twenty-five years.
"He seemed angrier than ever. He still wasn't working and now at the age of forty-four, he was facing criminal drug charges. I was a criminal defense attorney, and I still could not help him.
"I had watched him for years trying to commit an unconscious form of suicide. I knew he had to know he could not continue doing what he was doing and survive. So many of his friends had already lost their lives to the same despondency that was his modus operandi. It seemed that all of my talking, cajoling, and helping was in vain. . . it became clear that the only person who could save was my brother himself. .
"There's one in every family. A brilliant, free spirit, potentially capable of being the shining star. They usually have some great talent or ability that you can see, and to which they seem completely oblivious. More often than not, they spend most of their time chasing after everything except that at which they are good. The right thing at their fingertips. Those who are closest to them are always fighting the urge to shake or slap them. You just want to grab them and shake some sense into them. Or perhaps shake some anger our of them. The brilliant ones always seem to be angry or lazy or noncommital. In some ways, those of us watching know that if they would just get it together,they would not only save themselves, they would probably save us too, not to mention the world around us. We can't figure what is wrong. Those who do realize they are not fully with it can't seem to figure out how to get with it. It is so frustrating. That is what came over me on the highway - frustration and fear that my brother may never get it together.."
Hmmm. . . these words tug at my heart. I'm surrounded by brilliant, free spirits who can't seem to get their act together. Frustration is not the word I'd use to describe what I'm feeling right now. Suppressed rage, perhaps? I go back to the book and try to imagine Vanzant's situation at that time. I read again.
"What would you have me do, dear God? How can I help him? As I reached in, the answer hit me. 'Open yourself to his choices. Honor him by honoring the choices and decisions he has made.' What the heck is that supposed to mean? 'One of the hardest things we may ever be called to do in life is to watch a loved one fall. We want to help them. We want to save them. In doing so, we take away their power and cut off their blessings. What we must do at all times is remember that the God that is loving and helping us is the same God who will help our loved ones when we stay out of the way.' Those words from Lessons in Truth by Emily Cady, raced through my mind, followed by,'God knows what he needs, and the minute he opens himself to receive it,he will. Your job is to pray for his opening and watch for the signs,even the smallest signs that the opening has taken place, the healing is beginning. Honor him enough to know the truth about him. The truth is, God is in the midst of him doing a mighty work.'
"The truth is, I was angry at my brother for not living up to my expectations of his potential. I knew he was brilliant. I knew he was capable, but I couldn't figure out why he couldn't get it together. That made me mad. The truth is, it is very difficult to watch someone we love do bad or suffer. It feels as if they are doing it to us. That makes us angry. The issue is, do we want them to get it together for their sake or our sake? Of course, the natural conclusion is that the answer is a combination. We want the best for them, and we certainly want to feel better about them. There is, however, another truth that escapes us: People learn what they need to learn the way they choose to learn it, and there is nothing we can do about their choice. The truth is, God hears every prayer. Mine for him. His for himself. It's a good thing that his prayers take precedence over mine. God is wise enough to honor people and their choices, no matter what the choice appears to be. . .
"How can you praise someone when I am so mad at him and afraid for him?"Praise him and see the good in him no matter what your eyes behold. See him as a spirit, not as a body. Praise him silently in your heart for being a child of God. Praise him openly because you love him. When he comes to you for help, help him in ways that bring you joy. When you cannot help him, tell him the truth. Do not say you do not have when you do. That does not honor what God has given you. Do not say you cannot do, say you will not do. Honor yourself for the right to choose; in this way you honor him for the choices he makes. Only through truth can the light and power of God remove darkness. Only when you honor your brother as your brother and not as a perfect creation of God can you honor the God within yourself."
Laughter erupted near the entrance gate to the winery and my co-wine tasters were now waving and saying goodbye to the staffers of the Frank Vineyards. The vitner who gave me my Chardonnay sampling appeared before me and smiled.
"The winery is closed for the day. I hope to see you again tomorrow? Hey, what's wrong?"
Were there tears in my eyes? I must have looked like a soggy handkerchief, crying as I contemplated on the words I just read.I was crying for my boyfriend, my parents and everyone involved in the sex scandals hitting Manila right now. I need to remember that the sinners are all children of God and it is their choice whether they will face the light of truth and turn towards God or face eternal darkness. All I can offer are prayers that they see the opening, and see the light. We have to step away from them, and let them have the freedom to choose their course of action. At this point in my life, I can't help them except tell the truth about their actions. And in the end, if I can't accept their choices, I have to honor my own choices if I do walk away from my boyfriend and my parents to create my own life. The demons that hound them is indeed their own personal battle, not my own. If I need to live my own life away from them, then that is what I will do.
But first, I have to tell them the truth.
" Nothing's wrong. The sunset and the beautiful scenery made me weep. I'll be back tomorrow. I'd want to taste the Grigios if you don't mind." I hurriedly walked towards the gate of the winery and looked back at the setting sun. The last golden ray shot out behind the oak tree as if waving goodbye to me. I waved back.
thanks to roblisameehan for the bucket of grape pictures and to lightchaser for the beautiful Napa Valley image.
