“You shall not steal.” — Exodus 20:15 (NKJV)

Matsing lived in a tall tree at the edge of a quiet village. The villagers treated him as their community pet, feeding him bananas, mangoes, and sweet snacks. Yet, he felt the need to be someone important. After much thought, he came up with a grand plan. He would become a “master collector.”

Anything shiny, unusual, or small enough for his paws became fair game. A silver spoon snatched from a dining table, a red scarf snagged from a laundry line, and a small mirror swiped from an open purse were quickly whisked away. (The mirror was the prize of his growing stash — after all, it let him admire himself anytime he wanted.) He hid his loot inside the hollow of his tree trunk, viewing each item as a trophy of his greatness as Master Collector.

As his greed grew, so did his boldness. One morning, an old man set his gleaming silver reading glasses on a bench. Matsing couldn’t resist. He leaped down, swiped the glasses, and darted away. He thought no one saw him.

But the old man’s grandson did.

Curious, the boy shadowed Matsing and stumbled upon his secret stash. Hidden inside was a marvelous collection: colorful marbles, plush toys, glittering jewelry, jingling keys, brass whistles, colorful ribbons, and a pile of clinking coins and loose change. Gasping at the sight, the boy ran back to tell the people in the village.

Word spread quickly. The villagers felt deeply betrayed. They had cared for Matsing, only to be robbed.

The villagers gathered at Matsing’s tree house. Unaware that his thefts had been uncovered, Matsing was startled to find the crowd waiting for him. As one villager after another spoke, he sat quietly on a low branch, taking in how deeply his betrayal had hurt the community. In that moment, he finally understood that his “treasured collection” was a source of sorrow for those who cared for him.

Deeply hurt, the villagers demanded justice. They insisted that Matsing return every stolen item, face the rightful owners, and personally ask for their forgiveness. One by one, Matsing walked from door to door, restoring what he had broken with quiet remorse and humble apologies.

From then on, Matsing busied himself around the village from dawn to dusk, searching for missing things — a pair of reading glasses, a stray coin, or a child’s favorite toy. Every lost item returned came with a genuine word of thanks, filling him with a warmth no stolen treasure could ever match.

One afternoon, as he rested high in his tree at the edge of the village, Matsing nibbled on a fresh mango — a gift from a grateful neighbor. He smiled to himself, no longer a self-proclaimed master collector, but a helper to those who cared for him. He had learned that helping others felt far better than hoarding stolen treasure. He no longer needed to steal to feel important. He only had to do good things. ❤

Think about it

The Eighth Commandment, “You shall not steal,” seems like a simple rule about leaving other people’s things alone. As Matsing discovered, taking what isn’t ours is never just about the objects. It is about the trust we break.

Stealing breaks trust. And trust is the glue that holds a family, a community, and even a nation together. When we respect what belongs to others and use our hands to help rather than harm, we build a community filled with love, security, and genuine joy.

“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it.” — Psalm 24:1 (NKJV)

A hollow plastic clatter echoed across the floor, followed by a loud, rhythmic call: Túk-kay! Túk-kay! Túk-kay!

“Kuya Paolo, did you hear that?” Ning whispered.

Her older brother Paolo looked up from his book as the call repeated. Following the sound to the laundry area, the two kids found the source. Trapped under an overturned laundry basket was a large lizard with bluish-green skin covered in orange spots.

“A dragon!” Ning cried. “A baby dragon!”

“Silly!” Paolo chuckled, peeking through the holes in the basket. “It’s a tokay gecko!”

“Is that a real name, or did you make it up?” Ning asked skeptically.

“Sit on the basket so it doesn’t escape — I’ll prove it!” Paolo said. He ran inside and returned with his laptop, showing her a picture of the exact same creature. Beside it, the title read: Tokay Gecko.

Ning read the text aloud: “The tokay gecko is a large species whose name comes from the distinct call made by males — ”

Paolo set the laptop on the laundry table and sat on the floor. “I wonder how it got inside our house.”

“I hear that Túk-kay! sound at night all the time,” Ning said. Their house sat right next to the university arboretum where their parents taught as botanists. “There must be lots of tokay geckos right outside! Maybe the light drew this gecko in, and it knocked over the laundry basket, which landed upside down right on top of it.”

“So… what do we do with it?” Paolo asked.

“We keep it!” Ning declared. “We can use the big grocery box in the kitchen, poke air holes in it, set the old barbecue grill on top, and weigh it down with stones.”

Paolo stared at her. He couldn’t believe how fast his sister figured out what to do next. Then he said, “I don’t think we can just keep a wild animal as a pet. Mom and Dad won’t like it. Remember, they are botanist.”

“His name is Trevor,” Ning said with a proud smile. “He has a name now, so he’s our pet! We’ll look up how to care for him. And as for Mom and Dad… what they don’t know won’t hurt them!”

Paolo crossed his arms, terrified of what their parents would say if they found out. Yet despite his protests, Ning was already sliding the box underneath her study table. Grudgingly, Paolo promised to catch grasshoppers at school for Trevor to eat.

When they returned home from school the next afternoon, Ning ran to her room and then cried out, “Kuya Paolo! Trevor’s gone! Even his box is missing!”

Her brother rushed to her room. “What!”

Their parents walked into the doorway. “Are you looking for the tokay gecko?” their mother asked gently.

“We let him go,” their father said.

“But why?” Ning asked tearfully. “Trevor is our pet!”

“Your pet,” Paolo muttered softly.

“A tokay gecko belongs outdoors where it can live freely,” their mother explained.

“They don’t adjust well to captivity,” their father added. “This morning, Ate Binay heard something rattling inside your room and saw Trevor’s box. When she lifted the grill to check, the gecko bit her hand — hard enough to make it bleed profusely.”

Fortunately, their parents were still home and drove Ate Binay, their house helper, straight to the campus infirmary.

“Where is Ate Binay now?” the kids asked anxiously.

“She’s resting in the backyard.”

They hurried outside to find Ate Binay sitting under the mango tree, her hand neatly bandaged where the doctor had disinfected the deep wound, given a tetanus shot, and prescribed antibiotics.

“We’re so sorry, Ate Binay!” the children apologized together.

“Trevor didn’t mean to hurt you,” Ning added in a small voice.

Ate Binay offered a warm smile. “It’s alright, Ning. The little dragon was just frightened being cooped up in that box. Next time, let’s leave the wild dragons outside where they belong.”

“You can still take care of Trevor and his friends out here,” their mother said as she and their father joined them.

That evening, their father showed them how to spray water on the garden leaves at dusk and leave the porch light on to draw in insects. Every night after that, Ning and Paolo listened happily from their bedroom window as the familiar Túk-kay! echoed from the trees outside, a sweet reminder that loving a wild creature meant caring for it from afar and letting it live free. ❤

Think about it

Psalm 24:1 reminds us that the whole world and every living creature in it belong to God! Because God created everything with love, He asks us to be good stewards, or caring guardians, of His creation. He has trusted us to protect and nurture the earth. Caring for nature means appreciating wild animals for the special way God made them, rather than trying to make them our own.

One of the best ways we do this is by letting wild animals live free in their natural homes. If we spot a fascinating creature, like a tokay gecko, it can be tempting to trap it in a box and keep it as a pet. But God made tokay geckos to climb high trees, hunt insects under the night sky, and sing their loud calls across the woods. Instead of keeping them captive inside our houses, we can care for them by leaving them outside, protecting their environment, and admiring them from a respectful distance!

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” — Philippians 4:13 (NKJV)

Job perched on the lowest twig of the hibiscus bush — his absolute favorite place in the garden. Resting here put him right beside an abundant source of sweet nectar and rich pollen, letting him feast without wasting energy on long flights. With a full tummy, Job settled back onto the branch, quietly watching the other insects zip and flutter through the air.

Draco was an absolute master of flight. Like a true aerial acrobat, the dragonfly hovered mid-air, darted backward, flipped upside down, and executed impossible maneuvers with effortless precision.

Aster flew with pure elegance. The butterfly gracefully cupped and clapped her delicate, flexible wings together at the top of every stroke, gliding effortlessly from flower to flower.

Babsie moved in her own distinct way. The ladybug lifted her hard, red protective shells to spring open the thin, transparent flight wings hidden in origami-like folds beneath.

Then came Harry. A honey bee with a sleek body and perfectly proportioned wings, Harry landed nearby and scoffed, “Poor you! A bee who can’t even get airborne!”

“I can fly, you know,” Job insisted softly.

“Look at yourself!” Harry gestured mockingly toward Job’s heavy, stocky body and tiny wings. “By all logic, you shouldn’t be able to lift off the ground!”

“I have wings,” Job replied, holding his head high. “So I know I can fly.”

“Of course, you can!” chimed in Draco, Aster, and Babsie. They truly believed that Job, an insect with wings just like them, belonged in the sky.

“You just need to find a way that works for you,” Aster encouraged gently.

“Well, let’s see if you ever figure it out,” Harry laughed as he zoomed away into the garden.

Every day after that, Job practiced. At first, he tried flapping his wings straight up and down, just like a bird. But flapping vertically created no upward lift. The drag only pushed him harder into the twig, leaving him completely grounded.

Job tried flying Harry’s way. He swept his wings wide and flapped them super fast. But because he was much bigger and heavier than the honeybee, his tiny muscle engines overheated! Job could only buzz around in quick spurts before dropping to the ground to rest.

Still, he refused to give up. He tried a different way — twisting his short wings, sweeping them back and forth in rapid figure-eight arcs. And within seconds, a tiny vortex of air spun over his wings, pulling his heavy little body right up into the warm morning breeze.

Job caught the air currents, rising higher and higher above the hibiscus bush. Below him, the garden transformed into a vivid tapestry of colors.

Harry was mid-sip near a cluster of lavender when a low, powerful hum echoed beside him. He turned to find Job hovering in place with steady, effortless stability.

“How are you doing that?” Harry gasped, nearly dropping his pollen. “Your wings are way too small for your body!”

Job smiled, keeping his wings moving in fast, tight sweeps. “I stopped trying to beat my wings up and down like a bird. Watch.”

Draco, Aster, and Babsie hovered nearby to watch the demonstration.

“Instead of pushing air down,” Job explained, tilting his body slightly, “I sweep my wings back and forth in a quick figure-eight path, twisting them on every turn. It creates mini-whirlwinds over my wings that pull me right up.”

Harry watched closely, his eyes wide as he noticed the incredible speed and angle of Job’s wing stroke. “So you’re not fighting your weight — you’re creating your own suction!”

“Exactly,” Aster cheered, fluttering her colorful wings. “Every flyer has their own rhythm.”

“Yes,” Job said warmly. “I knew I had wings, and with wings, I knew I could fly. I just had to find my own way.”

“And you did,” Harry said, his previous arrogance entirely gone, replaced by genuine respect. “You really are meant to fly after all.” ❤

Think about it

When Harry told Job his body was too heavy and his wings were too small, Job could have easily given up. Instead, he kept practicing until he discovered how his unique design was meant to work. Philippians 4:13 promises that God gives us the courage, patience, and strength to keep going when things feel impossible or when we don’t fit someone else’s mold.

God didn’t create you to copy everyone around you, just as Job couldn’t fly the same way as a dragonfly or a butterfly. A bumblebee flies not by human logic, but by the strength built directly into its design. When you face a tough challenge, remember that the God who made you will give you the inner strength to keep learning, adapt your approach, and discover your own unique way to soar.

“But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)

A sharp, throbbing heat radiated from Zeke’s right knee straight down into his ankle. When he tried to flex his right foot, the joint buckled, sending a jolt of pain shooting up his leg.

“No,” Zeke whispered. “Please, not again.”

“Good morning, Zeke!” His mother pushed the door open, balancing a tray with a heating pad, a glass of water, and a small plastic cup of pills. The smile disappeared from her face the moment she saw him. Setting the tray on the study table, she rushed over. “It’s a flare, isn’t it?”

“It’s nothing,” Zeke muttered, shoving her hand away as she reached out to check his knee.

“Zeke, it’s swollen and burning up.”

“Mama, I’m fine!” Zeke snapped. He tried to haul himself up, but the strain sent another wave of pain through his leg. Tears spilled over his cheeks. “Why does this keep happening?! I always take my meds! I do every single one of those dumb stretches!”

“I know, Zeke, I know — ”

“No, you don’t know!” Zeke slammed his fist into the mattress. “It’s not fair! None of my friends have to deal with this! I hate this stupid disease!”

He then grabbed the heavy Bible from his bedside table and hurled it across the room. It struck the closet door with a sharp thud before dropping onto the floor.

Footsteps hurried up the hallway, and his father appeared in the doorway. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong. The scene spoke for itself. Zeke was in the middle of another battle with Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis, or JIA. It is an autoimmune condition where the body attacks its own healthy joints, causing severe pain, stiffness, and swelling. There was no cure, only management. But any clinical explanation, no matter how clear, could make Zeke feel better about his condition.

Six years ago, Zeke was like any other boy — racing up the stairs, biking around the neighborhood, and playing at the park. But gradually, his energy faded.

Morning stiffness would set in, his knees ran abnormally warm, and he frequently asked to be carried, especially when his father was home on vacation. “Naglalambing na naman ang anak ko,” his father would tease, lifting him up. Usually, the stiffness wore off by breakfast.

But one day, it refused to fade. His knees and ankles swelled crimson, accompanied by a spiking 39°C fever. Hospital tests soon confirmed JIA.

Thus began Zeke’s life with the illness. He hated the nauseating medications and the painful physical therapy, but he complied. What he truly loathed were the relentless flares — those agonizing periods when joint inflammation and fatigue surged without warning.

During one particularly painful flare, Zeke had looked down at his swollen knees, tears brimming in his eyes. “In Sunday school, they said God made everything good. If He’s so powerful, why did He let my joints lock up like rusty door hinges while my friends get to play? Why didn’t He just fix me?”

His father had wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t know why some of us carry heavy burdens so early, Zeke. But God promises never to leave you in it. He gave us each other so we don’t have to stand alone.”

Now, six years into the diagnosis, Zeke was twelve years old. Almost every morning started with quiet dread. Zeke would open his eyes and pray his joints wouldn’t feel set in concrete. Some days the prayer was answered; days like today brought only so much ache.

Catching sight of his father, Zeke curled inward. “Go away!” he choked out, yanking the blanket over his head.

“Zeke, we need to start your warm soak and get you stretched out,” his mother said softly from the bedside. “If we wait, the stiffness will only get worse — ”

“I SAID GO AWAY!” Zeke screamed from under the blanket. “I hate everything, and I hate you both!”

Deep down, Zeke wanted them to yell back. He wanted them to match his fury, to give him something solid to fight against instead of this suffocating pity. But the room remained quiet.

Peeking from beneath the blanket, Zeke saw his father holding the door open for his mother, who carried the untouched tray out. Zeke noticed her hands were trembling around the edges of the tray.

An hour later, the worst of the joint pain began to ease. Zeke was already sitting on the edge of his bed when his mother walked back in carrying a warm bowl of champorado topped with bits of cheese.

“I’m sorry I yelled, Mama,” Zeke whispered.

She set the bowl down and kissed his forehead. “I know, Zeke. It’s okay to be mad at the disease.”

His dad entered next, gently draping the heated pad over Zeke’s stiff knee. “Eat your breakfast first, Zeke. Then take the pills.”

While Zeke ate, his father picked up the thrown Bible and placed it back on the bedside table. “You know,” his father said softly, gazing at the Bible, “when you were first diagnosed, I locked myself in our room and cried until my head pounded. I was so mad at God. I asked Him why He gave you JIA — why you, and not me.”

Zeke paused, spoon halfway to his mouth. He had never heard his father admit to crying and feeling helpless.

“I felt the same way,” his mother added gently. “I didn’t even go to church for a month. All I wanted was to stay by your side.”

Their whole lives shifted after that day. His mother quit her job to open a sari-sari store in front of their house, allowing her to stay by Zeke’s side. His father requested a transfer back from Singapore to be closer to home. And as for Zack, there would be days when he couldn’t go to school, but arrangements had been made for him to study online during those difficult flares.

Sunlight streamed through the window, catching a tiny crack in the glass pane.

“I keep forgetting to fix that,” his father remarked, following Zeke’s gaze.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Zeke offered quietly.

His father smiled slightly. “Notice how the crack doesn’t stop the sunlight? It actually bends the light, scattering little rainbow shapes across your room,” he heaved a sigh. “Zeke, we live in a broken world where bodies get sick. But God didn’t abandon you. He gave you a family that will stand beside you through every hard day.” He gently tousled Zeke’s hair. “Our love for you isn’t going anywhere. And neither is God’s.”

Tears spilled over Zeke’s cheeks again, but the heavy bitterness began to loosen. “It hurts. It’s just not fair.”

“We know, Zeke,” his mother said, pulling him close. Zeke wrapped his arms around her neck and gestured for his father to join.

That night, after his parents said goodnight, Zeke closed his eyes and whispered into the dark, “God, I’m still mad that my knees hurt. But thank You for Papa and Mama. Please give me the strength to grow through this.”

The morning stiffness didn’t disappear overnight, and the weekly shots still stung. But something inside Zeke shifted. On bad days, he let his mother rub warm oil into his aching joints and let his father carry him upstairs. And on good days — which were coming more often now that his mindset had shifted — he went to school and got to enjoy classes alongside his friends. ❤

Think about it

Zeke felt that life was unfair to him. He was young, yet he had to live with JIA. There were mornings when his knees hurt terribly, days spent sitting on the sidelines, and moments where his anger boiled over. But God doesn’t expect Zeke — or you — to put on a fake smile or pretend that pain doesn’t exist.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9, God tells Paul, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” Just like the crack in Zeke’s bedroom window doesn’t stop the morning sun from casting colorful rainbows across his room, being sick doesn’t mean you are ruined by your hard days.

Real faith isn’t about never crying or never needing help up the stairs. It’s knowing that when your knees buckle, God’s love holds you up through your family, your prayers and prayers for you, and His quiet presence. You don’t have to carry the heavy stuff all by yourself. On the days you feel weakest, God’s grace steps into those exact spots, letting His light shine through you brightest of all.

“But you, be strong and do not let your hands be weak, for your work shall be rewarded!” — 2 Chronicles 15:7 (NKJV)

A farmer was given bamboo seeds to plant in his backyard. “These are magical seeds,” he was told. “They will give you and your family a stable, prosperous life.”

The farmer dug holes, planted the seeds, and marked the spots. He watered them every day, watching for signs of growth.

Not wanting his family to starve, the farmer planted fast-growing crops nearby. He tended both diligently. Within weeks, the other crops sprouted and soon after, he was able to harvest them. Some he used to feed himself and his family; the rest, he sold so he could have money to answer for their daily needs.

Meanwhile, a whole year passed, and the special seeds showed nothing. Still, the farmer watered them and pulled weeds. “They will grow,” he told himself faithfully.

A second year went by — still nothing. Disheartened but hopeful, the farmer kept caring for the bare soil while relying on his other crops. By the third year, the ground remained completely barren. Neighbors began to mock him. “How magically those seeds disappeared!”

Doubts crept into the farmer’s heart. Was he fooled? Yet he remembered the promise: take care of them, and they will grow abundantly. Holding on to faith, he continued to tend the soil.

A fourth year passed without a single sprout. Tired and downhearted, he decided, “I’ll give it just one more year.”

In the fifth year, as the farmer watered the bare earth, he noticed tiny green sprouts suddenly thrusting through the soil! They seemed to stretch before his very eyes — growing to a towering ninety feet in just six weeks! The farmer wept with joy as his years of patient labor finally came to fruition.

What the farmer had planted was the Moso bamboo. For five years, Moso bamboo shows no visible growth above ground. But deep underneath, it spends those silent years extending roots miles into the earth. Getting firmly rooted, it is now ready for its full growth! ❤

Think about it

Have you ever worked really hard on something, hoping for great results, but nothing seems to happen? Didn’t you feel like quitting when you didn’t see progress right away? The Bible verse 2 Chronicles 15:7 gives a good reminder: “Be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.” God promises that your hard work is never wasted. Even if no one notices right now, keep trying. Your effort will bring good rewards in time!

“For we walk by faith, not by sight.” — 2 Corinthians 5:7 (NKJV)

The sun had set. Hanging upside down on a branch of their treehouse, Bray opened his eyes and looked at his brothers, Nico and Migo. They were already awake, excited as they waited for their mother to give the signal to fly.

Bats usually take off a few minutes after sunset. The sky is no longer bright but it is not yet completely dark. This is the best time to catch insects.

Nico and Migo couldn’t wait. They loved flying! After catching their dinner, they always explored the forest with their bat friends.

Bray, on the other hand, would rather stay right where he was. He would hang on a branch and wait for insects to buzz near him so he could snatch them up safely.

“Why don’t you join your brothers tonight?” his mother urged gently.

“Yeah! The forest is beautiful at night,” Nico added, flapping his wings.

“Can you even see the forest?” Bray asked him.

“He got you there, Nico!” Migo laughed. “Well, maybe not, but the sounds in the forest are amazing.”

Bats have poor eyesight, making it nearly impossible for them to see in the pitch-black night. But what they lack in sight, they make up for with incredible hearing. They emit high-frequency sound waves and listen to the echoes that bounce back. When sound bounces off objects, they create an acoustic picture of the surroundings. The bats then can map out the entire forest in their minds.

Still, Bray wished he could rely on his eyes. “You never know what danger lies ahead if you can’t see it,” he muttered.

“You know, Bray,” his mother said softly, leaning closer. “Bats are not made to rely only on what our eyes can see. Our hearing compensates for our eyes. We can hear things other animals don’t. We don’t always get to see the whole path ahead, but we’ve been given the right tools to guide us.”

“Mother, are you saying that it’s a lot like faith,” Bray said thoughtfully. “You just have to trust them — and let go.”

Nodding, his mother smiled at him.

Still, Bray chose to stay behind, waiting for his brothers to return with stories of their adventures. He hated feeling like a coward, but his fear of the dark held him back.

“Maybe tonight you can try flying with your brothers,” Mother urged him again.

Bray just shook his head.

Seeing his hesitation, Nico and Migo swooped back and hovered on either side of him. “We’ll fly right next to you,” Migo promised. “If you hear something spooky, we’ll check it out together.”

Bray looked at his brothers, their steady heartbeats echoing in his ears. With a flap of his wings, he flew between them. He realized he didn’t have to face the dark alone. And with his brothers by his side, the night didn’t seem so scary after all. ❤

Think about it

Just like Bray, we sometimes encounter situations that feel dark or scary because we can’t see what lies ahead. We worry about starting at a new school, moving to a new place, making new friends, or facing a tough challenge.

But God didn’t just make us to rely only on what our eyes can see. He gave us His Word to guide us when the path ahead isn’t clear. Trusting His Word is living by our faith in Him.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” — Romans 8:28 (NKJV)

“Why do bad things always happen to me?” Rosette muttered, staring down at her drenched clothes and muddy shoes. “Oh, well … at least, I’m home,” she said as she reached for the door knob.

Then the doormat slipped, and Rosette hit the threshold with a thud, yelling in sheer frustration.

The door flew open. “Rosette!” Her mother gasped, helping her up. “What happened?”

“I’m cursed,” Rosette said dramatically. “Look at my dress — soaked! My hair — dripping! My shoes — ruined! Nothing good ever happens to me.”

Her mother gently led her inside, unlaced the muddy shoes, and guided her toward the bathroom. “Take a shower. I’ll leave clean clothes out for you.”

The shower did Rosette good. When she returned to the kitchen, a hot mug of cocoa was waiting.

“Tell me about this cursed day,” her mother said.

It had started at the dismissal bell. Rosette rushed to the library to borrow a book for her homework, only to find the last copy checked out. She then thought of asking her mother to let her use the family computer so she could read information about her homework. She had to go home now.

She hurried outside just as the skies opened up. She pulled her umbrella from her bag, but it jammed shut — stuck tight. As for her raincoat? It sat forgotten on the kitchen counter.

She waited out the downpour, but the walk home was no better. A speeding car splashed dirty water over her dress. An awning heavy with rainwater buckled, dumping a bucketful onto her hair. Hurrying along, she stepped straight into a deep mud patch. Finally reaching home, the doormat slipped.

Rosette took a sip of cocoa. As she told her mother the story, she realized she was feeling better and found herself smiling.

“Do you still feel like your day was cursed?” her mother asked.

Rosette stayed silent.

Her mother reached across the table, touching her hand. “Bad things sometimes come all at once, Rosette. Rain falls, cars splash, and doormats slip. But these moments don’t mean a bad day. The rain stopped, you made it home, and you get to dry off. Bad things happen, but so do good ones.”

Rosette nodded her head and smiled, for real this time.

“And yes,” her mother said, smiling at her, too. “After you’ve finished your cocoa, you can use the family computer for your homework. ❤

Think about it

Have you ever felt like everything is going wrong all at once? It is totally okay to feel upset when that happens! Rosette had a really rough afternoon where one annoying thing happened after another, making her feel like she was cursed. But with her mother’s love and care, Rosette began to feel much better. The Bible verse Romans 8:28 reminds us that even when we have terrible days, God is always working behind the scenes to turn those hard moments into something good.

“Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but whoever hates correction is stupid.” — Proverbs 12:1 (NIV)

The recent Math test results were out. Joachim didn’t fail — he barely passed with a 76.

“I’m not good with numbers,” he told his older brother, Isaac. “As long as I pass, I’m fine.”

“Your grade doesn’t solely depend on test scores,” Isaac argued. “You failed an exam this quarter. Quarterly marks also factor in exercises and recitations. Miss Morales mentioned to me that you’re not attentive in her class. Your mind seems to be somewhere else. So when you’re called on to recite, you don’t have an answer. Worse, you don’t even try to solve the exercises she gives.”

Joachim stayed quiet.

“Do you think you’ll still pass?” Isaac asked him. “Spend some time studying Math.”

Joachim laughed off brother’s concern. Believing that studying was pointless, he shrugged. “I’d get low grades anyway.”

“You need to tell Mom and Dad,” Isaac insisted. “You only share your good grades with them. They can help. Plus, you don’t want your teacher calling them in.”

“Okay, okay, I will,” Joachim grumbled.

“And pay attention in your Math class,” Isaac added. “Listening helps you understand.”

The next day, Miss Morales, the Math teacher, pulled Joachim aside. “There’s another test next Friday. Study well. If you get another low grade, you’ll be in trouble.”

Now worried, Joachim knew he had to follow his brother’s advice. That evening, he talked to his parents about his struggles in Math.

Joachim’s mother was an accountant. “Lucky you! Your mother’s a Math wizard,” his father joked.

“I’m no wizard,” his mother laughed. “But I can help you, Joachim.” She added that he could have told them his problem sooner so they could have worked out a solution.

Joachim opened his notebook. His mother patiently taught him how to break down and analyze the problems. Though it took effort, the concepts slowly began to make sense.

The following day, Joachim actually listened to Miss Morales in class. To his surprise, following her explanations made a big difference.

For the rest of the week, Joachim and his mother studied together every night. With her guidance and his newfound focus in class, Joachim improved. He even started solving problems correctly on his own.

Usually, their parents allowed them to watch TV or stream their favorite show online for an hour before dinner. But that Thursday afternoon, Joachim skipped it, choosing to study more for Friday’s test.

Friday arrived. Joachim’s hands shook as Miss Morales passed out the test papers. He took a deep breath, murmured a short prayer, and began. To his relief, the number sentences weren’t nearly as intimidating as before. When he reached the problem-solving section, he smiled. He knew how to solve them all. Unfortunately, time ran out before he could finish the final two problems.

He handed in his paper. Miss Morales glanced at it and gave him an encouraging smile before sliding it into her folder.

For the first time, Joachim knew he was getting a good grade. He couldn’t wait to go home and share the news with his Mom, Dad, and Isaac. Most importantly, he promised himself he would start putting as much effort into Math as he did into all his other subjects. ❤

Think about it

At first, Joachim dismissed his brother’s concern about his low Math grade. He even laughed off his struggles, saying that studying wouldn’t make a difference because he wasn’t good with numbers.

But when he realized he was in trouble, he stopped making excuses, accepted advice, and asked for help. Once he understood his predicament and took action, he set himself on the path to improvement.

“The righteous care for the needs of their animals, but the kindest acts of the wicked are cruel.” — Proverbs 12:10 (NIV)

“We’re naming him Scratchy,” Mimi said while gently scratching the puppy’s head.

“Yeah, that suits him well. Look at how it scratches itself!” said Rina derisively. “Why did you bring this scruffy thing here?”

Mimi covered Scratchy’s ears with her hands. “Shhh! He might hear you. That’s not a good thing to say. Scratchy could be offended.”

Rina rolled her eyes. “Come on, Mimi! He’s just a dog!”

Still covering the puppy’s ears, Mimi said, “Let’s go, Scratchy! I’ll give you some treats.”

Scratchy was a stray puppy that Mimi found whimpering in the gutter outside their gate. She took pity on him and brought him home. The first thing she did was give the puppy a bath to wash away the dirt and grime on his fur and make him smell nice and clean. Then she gave him soft food and fresh water. “Rina, look at how he gobbles up his food,” Mimi called out to her sister.

“What do you expect?” Rina said scornfully. “Patay-gutom, eh.”

Patay-gutom literally translates to “dead hungry” in Filipino. It is an insult — a cruel way to mock someone who is ravenous or gluttonous around food.

“Poor thing,” said Mimi. “He was left out in the cold for too long.” She patted the puppy and told him, “Things are going to be better for you now.”

Despite the rough start, Scratchy became the best dog to have around. He was obedient. When he was told to sit, run, or be quiet, he followed. More than that, he was just a sweet dog — not just to Mimi, but also to Tatay, Nanay, and most of all, Rina.

In fact, Scratchy loved being with Rina the most. When Rina was working on her illustrations — she was a children’s book illustrator who worked mostly at home — Scratchy would lie quietly under the drawing table, careful not to make a sound that would disturb her.

“Why do you always follow me?” Rina complained. “You even sleep in my bed!”

“Because you and Scratchy are always together at home,” their father pointed out.

“But I am not his owner,” Rina protested.

“It’s you who gives him food, walks him around the neighborhood in the morning, and bathes him,” their mother explained.

“I’ll be glad to do those things but I have to go to school,” Mimi noted.

“Yeah, right,” snorted Rina. “You shouldn’t get a pet if you can’t fully take care of it.”

“I’ll do all those things for Scratchy next week,” Mimi promised. “It’s sem break.” A sem break, short for semestral break, is a scheduled pause in the academic calendar. It usually falls between late October and early November.

“You know what?” Rina said, smiling. “That works out well, since next week I have to attend a live-in workshop in Los Baños. I won’t be here to look after your dog.”

The first morning Mimi prepared Scratchy’s meal, the puppy didn’t come at once to sniff the food in his bowl. Instead, he walked toward their bedroom as if looking for Rina.

“She’s not home,” Mimi told Scratchy. As if he understood, he hung his head and went to sit under Rina’s empty drawing table.

Scratchy still went out for walks, but he lacked the enthusiasm he usually had when he was with Rina.

At night, he refused to sleep on Mimi’s bed, even when Mimi patted the space beside her in invitation. Instead, he jumped onto Rina’s bed and laid his head on her pillow.

Most of the time, he would sit on the table near the window and look out, as if he were waiting for someone — waiting for Rina to come home.

“He misses Rina,” their parents observed.

“I wish Rina knew he does,” Mimi said ruefully. Then, turning to Scratchy, she added, “Don’t worry, Rina will be home tomorrow.”

True enough, Scratchy seemed to sense that Rina’s return was near. After his breakfast, he ran straight to the table by the window, gazing outside with bright, expectant eyes.

Suddenly, he began to bark excitedly. Mimi looked out the window, but she saw no one coming. “Is it Rina?” she asked Scratchy.

Scratchy barked even louder.

“Dogs can smell their humans from afar,” Mother said, checking the wall clock. “Rina must be close now.”

A few minutes later, Scratchy jumped down and bolted for the front door. Right after, there was a knock. It was Rina.

When the door swung open, Scratchy was all over her. His tail wagged wildly, and he barked in pure joy.

“Scratchy really misses you,” Mimi told her sister.

“And I miss him, too,” Rina said as she dropped her bags and hugged Scratchy tight.

Later that afternoon, as Rina sat back down at her drawing table, she didn’t nudge the small figure sleeping near her feet. Instead, she reached down, scratched him gently behind the ears, and smiled as Scratchy let out a soft, contented sigh. Some responsibilities, she realized, were worth holding onto. ❤

Think about it

At first, Rina didn’t like the idea of having Scratchy as a pet. It was her sister Mimi who wanted to keep the stray dog. Yet, Rina’s daily actions — feeding Scratchy, walking him in the morning, and bathing him — showed that she had been taking care of the dog. Even before she admitted her affection, she was faithfully caring for his needs.

Caring for a dependent creature is presented in the Bible as a hallmark of a good, responsible heart. While Rina saw these duties as a burden, by the end of the story, she had realized that stepping up to take care of Scratchy brings joy and meaningful connection rather than just extra work.

“…therefore tell those who cover it with whitewash that it is going to fall.” — Ezekiel 13:11 (NKJV)

Ancio was among the first to arrive at the town hall. As a young engineer, the recent turn of events bothered him deeply. Beyond concerns for the integrity of their anthill’s walls, he was eager to see how the problem would be resolved.

Heavy rains had battered the colony the previous week. It was the first time water had ever seeped into the mound. The breach weighed heavily on Ancio, and he knew a quiet dread had settled over the rest of the colony as well. What would become of them if the downpour returned? It had not happened in the past. Even when the sky tore open, their home had remained warm, dry, and secure — a testament to brilliant ant engineering.

Positioned at the center of the hall, directly across from the podium where the Queen would call the assembly to order, stood Malik. Though an engineer like Ancio, Malik carried himself with an air of superiority. He kept his distance from the other worker ants and mingled only with the royal advisers.

When the Queen Ant stepped up to the podium, she voiced her grave concerns and invited solutions to prevent further seepage into their walls.

“Ehem, ehem,” Malik cleared his throat dramatically to capture her attention.

“Yes, Malik?” the Queen asked, her gaze fixing upon him.

Adopting a tone that resonated with deep concern, Malik said, “It has been a long time since the walls of our anthill were built. And time erodes even the finest engineering.” He sighed dramatically before continuing, “There are now unseen fractures where the rain sneaks in. It is time we repair our outer defenses.”

From the podium, the Queen Ant asked, “And what do you propose, Malik?”

A slick, fleeting smile touched Malik’s face before vanishing back into worry. “We must replace the old mud and resin entirely with state-of-the-art concrete barriers.”

“Replace the walls with concrete?” the Queen Ant asked, dubious. “Our ancestors have always relied on tree resin. Can we not reinforce the existing walls with a fresh coat?”

Ancio nodded in agreement with the Queen Ant. Malik, however, seemed to know better — just as he always pretended to with his fellow worker ants.

“Resin?” He feigned absolute horror, throwing his arms wide. “Resin cannot withstand the coming storms! If a true surge hits, resin will buckle! The waters will breach our gates, ruin our nurseries, and drown our home!”

Gasps echoed through the hall.

The Queen Ant turned to her royal advisers, searching for guidance. One by one, they nodded in agreement with Malik. To her eyes, it was a comforting sight. It was proof that her kingdom’s brightest minds were aligned. Relieved by what seemed like wisdom rather than a trap, the Queen Ant sighed and allowed her lingering doubts to fade. “How much will this cost our treasury?”

“Five thousand jars of refined nectar,” Malik replied smoothly. “Paid upfront.”

The Queen Ant winced at the heavy price, but seeing her advisers nod in silent reassurance, she authorized the payment.

Work started immediately. “Get the mix ready,” Malik ordered the worker ants. “Sixty percent dirt and cheap filler.”

Ancio knew the mix proportions were wrong. But Malik was an ant with a booming, authoritative voice. Still, Ancio wanted to challenge his order, so he gathered his courage and spoke out. “Malik, that mix will crumble under pressure! If a real storm hits, the walls won’t last an hour. If you really think that making concrete walls is better, why don’t we use real concrete?”

Malik laughed sinisterly. “Because real concrete might actually work, duh! But if a wall collapses, we’ll just build another one and get paid again.”

“I’m telling the Queen Ant,” Ancio declared.

“Go ahead,” Malik sneered. “See if she listens to a simple worker.”

True to Malik’s prediction, the Queen Ant dismissed Ancio’s warning, swayed by her bribed advisers who insisted Malik was the true expert.

Before long, Malik declared the project complete. Even as hairline fractures spider-webbed across the surface, his corrupt allies pronounced the walls “invincible.” For weeks, Malik and his cohorts feasted on the hard-earned nectar of the colony.

Then, one night, the skies split wide.

Rainwater pounded heavily against the mound. The Queen Ant awoke to a terrifying sight. Water was seeping fast into her chamber. She pressed a claw against the facade. It felt spongy. “This isn’t concrete,” she gasped. “It’s just filler!”

Shouts echoed from the tunnels: “The water is rising! We’re flooding!”

The Queen Ant rushed outside and shouted to her guards, “Arrest Malik and the royal advisers! And bring Ancio to me!”

The guards scrambled, but Ancio was already in the main hall organizing his fellow worker ants. “Form a line! Link legs and mandibles!” Ancio shouted.

The Queen Ant watched in awe as hundreds of worker ants locked together into a tight, woven barrier. It was an ancient way to repel water. An ant’s body is naturally hydrophobic, covered in tiny waxy hairs that actively repel water. By weaving their limbs together, the ants trapped millions of tiny air bubbles beneath their tightly packed bodies. This microscopic cushion of trapped air created positive buoyancy and an impenetrable raft-like seal, holding the rushing floodwaters at bay through pure surface tension and physics.

Just as the guards dragged a trembling Malik and his cohorts into the gallery, a jagged fracture split open above their heads.

CRACK.

Thick, muddy water spurted through the fissure.

“Malik! And all of you!” the Queen Ant roared over the tempest. “You assured me these walls were invincible!”

“A temporary mixing error!” Malik cried, turning to his cohorts. But the disgraced advisers quickly backed away, cowering in guilt.

“Guards, put them in prison!” the Queen Ant commanded.

Throughout the night, Ancio and the worker ants held their living, water-repelling wall against the raging pressure until the storm finally passed.

By morning, warm sunlight broke through the clouds over the damp mound. The Queen Ant gathered the ants in another town hall. She announced to the colony that they were going to rebuild the wall using traditional engineering methods.

The Queen Ant sentenced Malik and his cohorts to lifelong imprisonment and hard labor. They would haul river clay for the rest of their days. Positioned near the river, the colony had access to rich, waterproof river clay, though hauling it up the steep, muddy banks was backbreaking work.

The Queen Ant also confiscated the stolen jars of refined nectar from their quarters and returned them to the treasury. They belonged to the colony and were meant to be used for the good of the colony.

She appointed Ancio as Chief Engineer. Under Ancio’s direction, the ants built new walls using time-tested methods: thick walls of cured pine resin, packed river clay, and tightly woven root fibers that naturally shed moisture.

Walking along the impenetrable new perimeter, the Queen Ant ran a claw along the smooth surface. “How wrong I was to forget that true strength is never built on grand promises that mask lies and corruption, but on simple, honest work.”

Ancio smiled. “A wall is only as strong as the hands that build it, and the truth that holds it together.” ❤

Think about it

In the story, Malik built a wall out of cheap dirt and filler instead of strong materials. Then he bribed the royal advisers to convince the Queen Ant that the new wall was “invincible,” even though tiny cracks were already appearing.

Malik thought he got away with his scheme, given that he had the support of the conniving royal advisers. But then, the sky tore open and the pounding rain cracked the wall.

It was a good thing that Ancio and the worker ants stepped in. They used their own bodies, teamwork, and honest engineering to hold back the flood. Later, they rebuilt the wall using durable materials.

We can be like Ancio. When we are honest, do our best work even when no one is watching, and refuse to cheat, our lives will stand strong — even when the rains pour heavily.

Let us keep this in mind and pray that we are given the strength to uphold it: Always build your life on truth, hard work, and honesty!