American Dream

Devotional: .......................... My Take on the American Dream ................... Lemuel Niere, ABTheo’77 Editor’s Thoughts: .......................... The World Traveler .............. Raylene Rodrigo Baumgart, BSN’78

Featured Items: I Choose Home .................................................................................... Neria Cajocon Butanas, BSN’77 A Bukidnon Native Living the American Dream ................................... Dr. Laurence Gayao, MVCA’63 Surviving my Personal Holocaust ................................................................. Elmar Bingcang, MVCA’85 Memorial Day: Because of the American Dream ....................... Ardys Joy Caballero-Gadia, MVCA’86 SULADS’ Corner: .................... Report from SULADS Thailand ........ Sulad Jhun Cardiente, ABTheo’05 Patch of Weeds ................................................................................................. Jesse Colegado, BSC’80 Life of a Missionary: ............................ Atauro Island ....................................... Romy Halasan, BSBA’86

CLOSING: Announcements |From The Mail Bag| Prayer Requests | Acknowledgements Meet The Editors |Closing Thoughts | Miscellaneous

“My Take on the American Dream” Lemuel Niere, ABTheo’77

Looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ Titus 2:13

hile the American Dream has been sought after by those who come to this country, it remains a whimsical dream to many including myself. It is idyllic, a pie in the sky. So many work hard to attain it but it remains elusive. Coming to America we

thought of attaining utopia but with the current state of affairs, the myriad problems piling up, the political divide between Republicans and Democrats, etc., the glimmer of hope is fading. Consider the growing problem of homelessness in this country. What about the aspirations of the DREAMERS? It is no wonder pessimism and disillusion are becoming chronic. True, President Trump’s rallying cry is to “Make America Great Again,” and many are trying to make it so, (but to me it is the USA’s military that is getting better at fulfilling this!) yet things are getting worse in certain segments of American society. Think DACA, and another recent school shooting, with copycats probably just waiting for their turn. So what is my point? From my standpoint as a Christian, anything in this “earth shall pass away.” Our only hope is the soon coming of our Lord and Savior. This is what we should be dreaming of. The American Dream is at best just a dream. Some are even saying it has become a nightmare. During these times God has tasked us to share the Good News of Christ’s coming to those people who are losing hope.

Lemuel Niere

Editor’s Notes: Pastor Lemuel Niere (AB Theo’77) SHINES ON! as one of the Pastor of Glendale Filipino Church in Southern California Conference. Pastor Lem enjoys hiking, sightseeing, and enjoying the warm weather of California.

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Editor’s Thoughts: “The World Traveler” Raylene Rodrigo Baumgart, BSN’72

riends have often called me as “the world traveler” and I have always been proud to admit that that is one fact I really love to hear. And the minute I hear it, my foot itches again to make travel plans, search for new destinations and my heart does not stop

pounding until I find the perfect spot, a new destination that I have not explored. This past March, while I was still in the Philippines taking care of my 90- year old father, my husband suggested that I stop at Bali, Indonesia on my way home. Hesitant, due to uncertainty of the safety of such a place plus the thought of being a lone traveler, I found reasons not to go. I was so worried that I would encounter problems while vacationing in a new location all alone. Yet on the other hand, I also knew that fear can really limit my chance of new adventures and will only serve as blinders to many possibilities of what I could truly enjoy. So I decided to just take the risk, invite my best friend to come along and before I knew it, there were six of us who went to Bali and it was a decision I never regretted. When they left after a week and I was left alone again to go sightseeing the next 10 days, I started getting anxious once more. But looking back, I can say without hesitation, that those days of being alone was the best vacation I have ever had. It was on those moments, that I dared make new friendships with strangers I met and locals whom I encountered due to opportunities extended. And I knew without a doubt, that I will be making more solitary journeys from now on. I have new courage to dare take new untrodden paths in the future. And such is life itself. Life is indeed a journey – you never know what may be your next destination and what experiences are waiting for you. Now I realize that in life, it truly is all about choices. On every journey you take, you face choices. At every fork in the road, you make a choice. Every activity you do, you make a choice. You also make choices in who to spend your time with and what you have to do at any unexpected moments. And it is those decisions that shape our lives and create lasting memories.

Raylene Rodrigo Baumgart

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I Choose Home Neria Cajocon Butanas, BSN’77

lot of my classmates have gone to live in the United States to chase their American dream. Most of them stayed until they decided to retire and go back home for good. They have often asked me why I chose not to live in America. I know I could choose to live here and

I can make that choice but I chose to go live back home. I graduated from Mountain View College in the 1977, and am proud to be a member of the Ripples Class ’77. After graduation, my first job was at Dipolog Medical Center where I worked as an Operating Room nurse. A year later, I got married to my husband Novel and started our family of three. Just like many of my classmates and contemporaries, I also wanted to go to the United States and try my luck. Finally in 1988, I got my chance of leaving and ended up working at Bricktown Convalescent Center in New Jersey. It was quite a huge adjustment for me. The cold weather, the responsibilities and cultural differences were things I could get used to. But missing my husband and the kids soon became an obsession and I decided to go back home. Fortunately for me, I was able to work at a government hospital, Sergio Osmena Hospital where I worked full time until my retirement in 2016. Choosing to go home was the best decision I have ever made in my whole life. I was with my husband and watched my kids grow up. Now that I am retired, I have the privilege of helping the family run our family corporation business called Butanas Springs. Here, people can come to enjoy a day’s outing at our pool from natural springs of water. Many MVCians come here not knowing that it is my family’s business and we get to enjoy time together. This is our family’s legacy which will be handed down from generation to generation. This is one reason why I came home... And to this very day, I never regretted the moment I decided to choose home.

Editor’s Notes: Neria Cajocon Butanas (BSN’77) SHINES ON! as a business woman at Western Mindanao and as a retired nurse. She enjoys spending her free time in her family business “Butanas Springs” just as much as she enjoys being Lola.

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A Bukidnon Native Living the American Dream Dr. Laurence T. Gayao, ABTheo’63

don't know much of my grandparents’ family except they were the first generation who became Christians. They were Lumads, natives of Bukidnon of the Talaandig tribe, and my grandfather was a magahat (warrior). The Bukidnon people believe in one God,

"Magbabaya" (the ruler of all) who has minor gods and goddesses under his command, for example: Ibabasok – who watches over the growth of crops; Dagingon – who oversees the planting and harvest seasons; Bulalakaw – who watches over rivers and lakes; Tumpas Nanapiyaw or Itumbangol -- who watches the bases of the earth, night and day. My father's family were farmers and he being one of the older members among his siblings he was expected to follow in the tradition. He however, had different plans. He decided, contrary to his father's desire, to continue his education in the capital of the province Malaybalay, to become a teacher. This was during the time when the Philippines was a colony of the Americans. Students were given free education and were called “pensionados.” After they finish the 12th grade they were called "Normal" graduates which qualified them to be teachers. After my father’s graduation he was recruited for military training before World War II broke out and served under the United States Army in the Far East (USAFE) during the war. Because of his service in the US army he qualified for free college education under the GI Bill, and he used this to earn his degree at Philippine Union College (PUC, now Adventist University of the Philippines). After graduation from PUC the school employed him as a high school teacher and added to that the dean of men position. From that time I grew up in the college campus of PUC and later Mountain View College until I received my undergraduate degree. Growing up in college campuses exposed me to American kids, their families and their ways. In school many of the text books were from America, even the libraries were filled with American books and publications. At our home we had American books and my father subscribed monthly to the Readers Digest. So, vicariously we children got an American education. At school we had schoolmates who received stuff from relatives in the US which they proudly displayed, things we called "states side." These students would be talking about their relatives and showing pictures of their houses and cars in the US. When I went to medical school our top professors were US trained and had successful practices. Many of us medical students thought that the next step after school was to train in the US and I was no exception.

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After one year of residency at Mindanao Sanitarium and Hospital, a relative in Texas who was an administrator of a small hospital petitioned me to work in their hospital. After an interview at the US embassy in Manila I got approved to work in Texas. In two weeks, my wife and I and an infant daughter were on a plane bound for Texas in March 1973. We arrived in Texas with only twenty dollars and a sick infant daughter. After we boarded the plane from Manila, she started to have almost continuous

diarrhea. By the time we got to the Dallas she was lethargic and we had to drive another 2 ½ hours to our relatives’ home then brought our daughter to the hospital emergency room. Thank God, she dramatically improved after given oral hydration with electrolytes. I soon realized that I could not work until I got a temporary license or permit from the State of Texas. I asked myself how I could support my family and repay for our tickets coming to the States which we got through the "Fly now pay later plan?" Fortunately the medical technologist of the hospital decided to move to California and my wife Edith who is a medical technologist, was offered the job. I never thought I would go to the US just to be a babysitter our infant daughter and do the laundry including the baby’s diapers, because I had no job and we could not afford disposable diapers. After three months I received my temporary permit to practice. I settled down in the little town of McCamey in the desert wilderness of West Texas. The place had more oil pumps than trees, but you could not find any better group of people who welcomed us as one of their own. As I settled down to my practice, I thought that having grown up with American kids I would have no communication problems. Well, I was wrong to presume that. The Texas folks spoke with a Southern drawl which I had to learn, and on top of that their rules of grammar were different from what I learned in MVC. But it didn't take long however for me to start talking like them. The nearest Adventist Church from where we lived was in the city of Odessa which is a good 50-mile drive. On our first Sabbath the first elder learned that I was a physician so he approached me before the worship service and introduced himself as Jack Burton. Then he surprised me with a request to give the morning worship service sermon. I said I wasn’t prepared right then, but I would be happy to do it the next Sabbath. For my first twenty years in the US I had to preach about once or twice a month because the pastors had to take care of 3 to 4 different churches. Although I finally got my medical license, it did take me long to realize that to be able to work in larger hospitals and be in an urban setting, I had to take a medical residency training in a specialty.

With the Family

I applied and was accepted to Texas Tech for Family Medicine Residency training. Eventually got board certified in Family Medicine and eventually also in Emergency Medicine. I started practicing Family Medicine for the first twenty years and then twenty-three years Emergency Medicine until my retirement. I have lived here in Texas since I came to the US and raised our family of four. It has been quite a journey living here in the United States that I probably could write a book on our experiences with all its ups and downs. I would not say "it's a land of milk and honey," but I would admit it has been exciting to be here exploring challenges and opportunities. I have a small vacation place in Philippines that we still consider home in spite of the fact that we have lived most of our lives here in US. As we may hear some people say, you can take the Filipino out of the Philippines but you can't take the Philippines out of the Filipino. One thing I am thankful for that here in the US, if you work hard and keep up with advances in your profession, many opportunities will open to you and you are remunerated well for your efforts. Of course, you always feel good that you are able to help your folks and Gods work in the Philippines as God has blessed you! Editor’s Notes: Dr. Laurence Gayao (MVCA’63) is a retired physician who is highly involved in MVC alumni and community activities. He SHINES ON! from the State of Texas where and his lovely wife Edith reside.

Surviving my Personal Holocaust

(An American Dream Temporarily Derailed) Elmar Bingcang, MVCA’85

his ordeal of mine started on the morning of August 23, 2015. This particular morning wasn’t much different from the countless mornings that I had gone out for an early morning ride. Little did I know that that morning would be the start of a life-changing

event, the magnitude and impact on my life would be so egregious and far-reaching that, even up to the present time 2.5 years later I still have difficulty comprehending the how and why of the accident. I was brought into this world thousands of miles away in the Philippines countless of moons ago. I am the youngest of four children born out of the union of college professors Eli and Marie Bingcang. As a result of my parents’ professions, my formative years were spent on college campuses. From the campus in South China Union College (now Hong Kong Adventist College), to Mountain View College to Central Philippine Adventist College, I experienced an array of academic, cultural and athletic pursuits generally free of economic burdens that usually accompany these activities in other settings. These colleges have an abundance of wide open spaces, along with solitude and tranquility that nurtured in my heart the fondness for the outdoors. Ingrained in me was not a dalliance, but a lifelong reverence. It was however, the athletic and outdoor dimensions that I relished the most. With soccer fields, and tennis, basketball and badminton courts set amidst a vast rural setting, the opportunities were endless. Although I enjoyed these activities, it was cycling that struck a melodious chord in my heart. The vast expanse of the campuses of Mountain View College and Central Philippine Adventist College which were in the vicinity of majestic mountains, where we could ride on our bikes and ascend to those heights, provided us with intoxicating vistas that gave us an addictive high. Those experiences had me hooked “like a bass at the end of a line.” In retrospect I consider those experiences my “good old days.” Let me press the Fast Forward button to 1999, the year I was blessed with the gift or privilege of reaching the shores of this great country, the culmination of my childhood dream, to join in the pursuit of the “American Dream.” I remember the very next morning as we stood on the shore of Liberty Park in New Jersey, just across the Hudson River, there partially shrouded in fog stood Lady Liberty. She stood beckoning me, and the others before me with the iconic message at her pedestal, “Give me your tired, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

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Coming to this country gave me the ability to practice my profession, Physical Therapy, and at the same time be fairly compensated. However, living off the fat of the land resulted in a growing waistline. It was about this time I engaged again in regular exercise like running and going to the gym. Although these activities seemed to serve the purpose, it quickly descended into drudgery. I slowly began dragging my feet to these activities. I was making too many excuses on why I could not do my exercises. One day an idea suddenly hit me—why not try cycling. Yes, why not? Shortly thereafter I spotted an old bike at a garage sale, bought it, fixed it up a bit replacing worn parts and broken ones. Now I had a bike and the only thing left to do was get on the saddle. Well, at that time we were living in a highly urban area where serious cycling would be a bit too dangerous. Moving to the suburbs in northwest Chicago accorded me the ability to “live the American Dream” of a house in the burbs, with a dog. At that time although the environment was conducive to cycling, the everyday duties of living just sucked me in. Yet I was able to get in rides here and there. At work one day, I happened to mention offhand to a colleague about having cycling as my preferred form of getting into shape. My colleague told me that his friend was a member of a cycling club that was based near the place where I lived. Before I knew it, I was a part of a cycling club, an organization with about 100 members. The club had members who joined just to have fun, but many in the club were hardcore, gung-ho type of riders who rode several times a week. A new-found friend told me as an introduction, that the club was a no pressure, kinda easy, smell-the-roses type of group. Yeah right! On my first ride with them it was more of a “run-for-the-roses” kind of gig. Right at the onset everybody was off, disappearing into the horizon; rewriting the whole definition of a leisurely ride, lol. As I grew more into the group my fitness improved. I started to join the inevitable informal race that would invariably occur at each ride. Then came the Strava records to beat. (Strava is a virtual form of racing against one’s own time, or against other people’s time.) Then a person graduated into riding with other clubs, then on to racing in local and region-wide mountain bike cross-country, to full-blown races. Aside from that there were the 100-mile sponsored rides that our group, the Fil-Am Riders, regularly joined. Boy, this was really fun, I thought. Being a Physical Therapist, I knew very well the intricacies, as well as the well-known benefits of exercise. This sure was up my alley, I was having the time of my life! I was going to “walk the walk,” not just “talk the talk.” I did not want to be that therapist who advised patients to exercise, and yet look like somebody who was a Cinnabon-chumping, Rockstar energy drink gulping junkie. Being the father of two little girls, I also dreamt in my mind that someday I would walk my daughters down the aisle, well and strong, without the aid of a cane or some other dreadful contraption needed by someone of advancing age. I wasn’t just living, I was ALIVE! That fateful morning of the 23rd of August 2015, was a week after having participated in a 90-mile race called the Ganther Race Lake in Fon Du Lac, Wisconsin, which I thought I did very well in. I

Elmar proudly represents

Sugar the faithful dog

With friends

got on the saddle early in the morning with nary an unusual event to catch my attention. As I slowly warmed up, I sucked in the delicious morning air and savored the feeling of the light, cool breeze on my face. I thought of how good and wonderful it is to be healthy and full of life. I was thinking about taking it easy that morning, listening to the songbirds as I glided along. Barely audible was the sound of the thin tires of my bike slicing through the air. Maybe I’ll just ride hard tomorrow, I mused. My new carbon bike seemed skittish, like a race horse just raring to go. Oh well, I just settled into my customary time trial training ride, a 15-mile loop averaging 21 miles an hour. Then as I entered the final stages of that day’s routine, I saw the Elgin water truck ahead of me. The pickup truck was no stranger to me, in fact it was a familiar fixture in front of the water pump enclosure. I had seen it there on countless previous occasions, as well as having passed it a couple of times that morning.

That I was on the pavement surprised me, and strangely I wasn’t even alarmed. Rather I felt a little silly for what had happened. The arrival of the ambulance and the EMTs failed to jolt my mind into the reality of the dire straits I was in. The fact that I was not able to move my legs did

not worry me particularly. Things of that nature just didn’t happen to me. Not me! Even in the ER where the Doc was going over the neurological test, and I was chiming in along with him, detached, as if I was myself evaluating a patient of mine. Unbeknownst to me, the hospital was able to contact my wife, Sheila, as she was driving home from her night shift as a nurse. Now the frightened look on my wife’s face in the ER started to develop a fear inside of me. My thought process was that if a seasoned nurse like her could have a look of disquietude on her face as she was having now, then I must be in terrible shape. Still unable to fully comprehend the extent of my injuries, I think I said something to my wife to the effect that I was very sorry I hadn’t fed our dog Sugar yet.

Then the medical staff decided that I was to be transferred to a trauma hospital which could handle cases like mine. What? This can’t be happening! It was much like the unfolding of a horror movie. Or an episode of one’s most garish nightmares. It was as if there was a connivance of some evil force to spell my doom. Before I could slip out of my skin to escape this predicament, an MD whispered to me, “Oh, you will walk again” after performing a neurological test on me. The statement of the doctor somehow assuaged my fears somewhat, but it later proved to be apocryphal. My stay in the hospital went on to be the most harrowing experience yet in my life. On my third day in the ICU I came down with ARDS (acute respiratory distress syndrome). I was gasping, choking, and fighting for my life to get the next breath. It then occurred to me that death was a possibility. The looks on my family’s and friends’ eyes seemed to validate my fears. Now every breath I took was as precious as a load of pirate’s gold. My life’s success was measured by my ability to take my next breath. As if my predicament was not bad enough, they stuck a tube into the base of my throat to help me breathe. The certified loudmouth that I am was relegated to deathly silence for the next 3 months, an eternity for a guy like me. The rehabilitation process was long and tedious. Now I was on the other side, a patient as opposed to being the therapist. Eventually as I began to recover from ARDS, a brief tranquility came over me as I took stock of my situation. This short spell made me realize that the last steps I

made were the steps I took that Sunday morning. I saw “the writing on the wall.” As the prospect of my coming home drew near, this after spending 3 months in the hospital, it gave me a euphoric feeling. I was going to be home with my family again. The thought gave me comfort despite everything that had happened. The love of Sheila, my two girls Marla and Mandy, the walls of my home and the covers of my bed, all of these would be my protective shield from the ordeal that I just had. As the days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, an insidious opponent crept up on me. Depression! Now I was a cripple! Gone are the halcyon days, I thought. At this point I was descending into the darkness of an abyss. Many a time I had doubts about continuing the validity of my life; but miraculously I hung on. There were people who were rooting for me—my faithful wife, Sheila, and my friends were cheering me on. I remembered how my very ultra-faithful dog,

Sugar, would lick my face as my tears streamed down. She just seemed to know when I was feeling so blue. I just could not let my wife, my friends and Sugar down. I would not be defeated. I remembered the countless hills and mountain passes I rode my bike on, and I never gave up no matter how hard the going was. Yes, I was a fighter, I had always been, and I shall be one now. I rediscovered myself. I

determined to busy myself with the things that I could do, rather than dwell on the things I could not do. I thought it would inspire others with courage, yes, courage of getting on with life in spite of a great tragedy. Really, was that all to it? Even with all the bravado I could muster, things did not turn out the way I expected them to be. An increasing anger began to grow and flourish within me. I began to question why the God whom we all worshipped since my inception into this world, just stood by and let all these misfortunes happen to me. Maybe, perhaps all the teachings of scripture were just a product of human invention. Slowly, bit by bit, my spiritual moorings began to slip. The bedrock of my spiritual foundation seemed to show the stability of shifting sands. For months I sought the answers to my probing questions. The increasing thunderstorms darkened the skies of my mind, fueled by my increasing doubts. Is there a balm for a predicament like mine? Somehow I still managed forays into the Living Word; with that I noticed a feeling of calm and hope. Comforting hope came with a sense of coming home after a long and arduous journey. Conversations with two voices that had helped straighten my spiritual compass over the years, helped lift my eyes beyond earthly boundaries. Yes, again Dad and Mom, my precious parents, helped me realize that there is hope eternal. There is hope in the tried and true God of ages past, and there is hope in the God of the future. Although I still have my “days,” I know that I am not alone. As I continue to travel this life journey of mine, sometimes the thirst of doubt and weariness abound. But I know that I have a well of comfort to draw from. It is my hope that one day we shall arrive at the portals of that place where there will be “no sorrows or pains to bear.” This is the hope that sustains me, and I hope it will sustain others who wait for that beautiful land that is to come. Editor’s Notes: Elmar Bingcang (MVCA’85) SHINES ON! from Chicago, IL, where he currently works at a physical therapist and where he lives with his wife Sheila, their daughters Marla and Mandy, and their dog Sugar.

Memorial Day: Because of the American Dream Joy Caballero-Gadia, MVCA’86

History:

n the spring of 1865, the American Civil War ended but by then an estimated 620,0001 Ameri-can soldiers’ lives had been lost in the line of duty. That is 2% of today’s population! By the late 1860s, Americans in various towns and cities had began holding springtime

tributes to these countless fallen soldiers, decorating their graves with flowers and reciting prayers. On May 5, 1868, General John A. Logan, leader of an organization for Northern Civil War Veterans called for a nationwide day of remembrance and called it Decoration Day. For decades Americans celebrated May 30 as Decoration Day. Then in 1968, Congress passed an Act2 naming the last Monday of the month as Memorial Day, allowing federal workers a three-day weekend.

Inside Info:

My MVCian friends and I have remained very close through the past 30-some years. Even though we live in different parts of the world, we often have meaningful conversations a couple times a month. Sometimes they describe the challenges of being an administrator’s spouse or a pastor’s wife. Sometimes they describe the hectic expectations when your spouse is an educator. Sometimes they fret at not seeing their spouse as often, because as nurses they both work in different shifts. I listen in silence, amused and highly entertained. Sometimes I do wonder how they would fare if they were a military wife like me. When my friends’ hubbies go to work they may say, “I will see you tonight after work.” When mine goes I get to say goodbye not knowing if this is the last time I will see him alive. I have learned to prioritize and make each moment count. I’ve learned to stay calm when he says, “You be strong. Don’t ever forget that I love you” remembering that last night he had explained his last will and testament to me, showed me again where to find the papers and gave instructions on what to do just in case he got killed in action. I’ve learned not to cry on other people’s shoulders but to find solutions without much fuss, to be strong. Looking back now, I am glad that there is a thing called

1 https://www.battlefields.org/learn/articles/civil-war-casualties 2 https://www.history.com/topics/holidays/memorial-day-history

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aging and my Andy is no longer required to jump off planes and land behind enemy lines. But I am too acquainted with being a military wife and now, being a veteran’s wife. Unique challenges! Andy’s family has served in the U.S. Armed Forces for four generations now: Grandpa was a Marine, Pops was an Army Ranger, Andy and his brother choose the Navy and the younger generation followed in their footsteps. A niece and nephew are currently in active duty, deployed. While many Americans see Memorial Day Weekend as a time to enjoy the beach and do a BBQ with the family, we pause to remember those who had fallen in battle. (Not all the fallen were killed in action, some died in transport or after.) For us, the term “family” is not limited to bloodlines or religious faith, they include the families of Andy’s brothers and sisters in arms. From a personal standpoint, I have learned to love and cherish the spouses, kids and parents of those brothers and sisters in arms. Some of these families still mourn the loss of a father, a mother, a spouse, a child. Memorial Day Weekend sometimes means all of us getting together as a family to catch up. I see the younger kids growing up; soon they will be in school. I see the older kids will soon be leaving the nest. They may have lost a parent in battle but they have this family. I am amused sometimes as I listen to Andy and his buddies talk. Their stories sound like it happened only a few minutes ago. The stories are of happier times at the sandbox (Iran, Iraq, or Afghanistan). Sometimes I notice that they speak as though the fallen were still alive and may add their input to the story. But the laughter that accompany the stories often end with comments like, “Sam would have gotten a kick out of this,” or “Chris would have known what to say to that” which would painfully remind us once again that some of the guys did not make it home. Silence would follow as we remember those we loved and lost in battle. A few sniffles interrupt our silence, even the birds stop their singing. But after a while the silence is usually followed by a gruff comment from one of the guys. “At least they went out (died) doing what they loved best – kicking a** and defending our country.” Which is usually always followed by a comment from another, “Yeah! At least they’re not plagued by phantom pains from missing limbs and PTSD!”

Conclusion:

For those who truly understand what Memorial Day is about – the greeting Happy Memorial Day Weekend is very offensive. Only the enemy would be happy with the death of our soldiers. And yet, dying for one’s country or bravely waiting at home while your loved one is out there fighting for our freedom – that is the price of the American Dream. The lifestyle we are now living is a freedom that was paid for by so many in blood. A soldier does not fight because of what is in front of him. He fights because he loves what he left behind.

All of us gave some. Some of us gave our all.

Some gave their life, others gave a limb or two, others gave a portion of their sanity We don’t know them all. But we owe them all.

This, too, is part of the American Dream. We salute and remember our honored heroes.

Memorial Day In case you thought today was National BBQ Day

(R) Capt. David I. Lyons (in his 1st Lt uniform). (L) Capt. Dana Lyons lying next to her husband Capt. David I. Lyon's coffin during its transport back to the United States. He was killed in Kabul, Afghanistan, when a vehicle-born improvised explosive device (IED) was detonated near his convoy. He was performing a combat advisory mission at the time of his death.

In Memory of our Honored Dead

Report from SULADS Thailand

By Sulad Jhun Cardiente, AB Theo’05 SULADS Thailand Field Coordinator

od please give me at least two local missionaries to train and disciple this year. Two or more.” This is the prayer I prayed before the month of April came. And God has been good! He gave us six new local missionaries to train and three foreign missionaries. This

year, we have a Sulad trainee from Papua New Guinea (Sulad Joy Kurua Poulsen) and two from the Philippines (Sulads Solomon & Gypsy Olantao). I have no words to describe how thankful to God I am for these precious new missionaries! I praise God for allowing this and for blessing us. Please pray for another two new local missionaries who are planning to join the training. The countries of Thailand and Laos desperately lack missionaries. Every local young person who join the training is very precious and valuable. This year’s SULADS Thailand Student Missionary Training started on May 3 and will go on until June 3, 2018. It has to be kept short because we have visa problems especially for those coming to Thailand from the country of Laos. In fact, some did come a little late for the training because of visa problems. The first week of training we focus on spirituality. Because of the wide array of cultural backgrounds and influences, we want each trainee to have the opportunity to share what they understand as we delve into a deep study of Scripture and the Spirit of Prophecy. Because journaling is part of their classes, they will write important concepts that they discover. Then they will take turns sharing what they have written. I will be the last one to speak. I will give important points for consideration or a summary. For the subsequent weeks we also integrated massage therapy, how to take blood pressure and blood sugar readings, and trained them in healthful living because health is the right hand of the gospel. Sulad Kirt Demavivas, a nurse, trains them and take them to a hillside village for practicum. Livelihood is also integrated in our sulads’ training here in Thailand so that our missionaries can teach their villagers how to earn a living while also being tentmaking missionaries like the apostle Paul, not depending on the mission to support them. Our training is very practical, like making

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vegetarian siopao. We also trained them how to teach English so that they can teach the children at the villages. Our current SULAD missionaries also serve as trainers during our month-long training. Working closely together, this doubles up as a discipling, nurturing and team building activity for us all. SULADS Thailand is committed to Reaching the Unreached in our part of the world. We are committed to continuing the discipleship work as we prepare these local young people to take up the soul-saving work. The goal of our sulads’ training is to equip our new local missionaries and to disciple the current ones and hone their leadership skills as they help facilitate training. We are experiencing financial difficulties here in SULADS Thailand. We could not run this month-long training. But God is His goodness has always provided so we trust that we will never lack in provisions.

© SULADS International, Inc. If you would like to support this mission program dedicated to taking the Gospel to the people of Mindanao, please write a check to Gospel Outreach. Mark it for the

SULADS and send it to: Gospel Outreach P.O. Box 8 College Place, WA 99324 You may also donate to the SULADS using your credit card by logging on to Gospel Outreach's donation site (http://www.goaim.org/) and follow the directions. Again, mark it for SULADS. If you would prefer, you may write your check to the General Conference of

SDA and mark the donation for SULADS and send it to: General Conference of SDA Donations 12501 Old Columbia Pike Silver Spring, MD 20904 Thank you for your support of this very important project. If you do not want to receive any more newsletters, Unsubscribe To update your preferences and to unsubscribe visit this link Forward a

Message to Someone this

Weather Channel

run sophisticated weather programs on multi-million-dollar super-computers at a Navy center for environmental predictions. On the morning Hurricane Opal was heading for the Florida coast, my boss, a Navy commander, gave me detailed reports on the hurricane's

status to pass along to a friend who has family in the area. Fascinated by his ability to summon up-to-date reports so quickly, I asked him how to do it. He gave me a puzzled took and said "Simple, Go turn on the television and watch the Weather Channel." (Contributed by Joanne Miller; from GCFL)

Chow

uring my Army Reserve unit's annual training at Fort Ord, Calif., our battalion commander was upset that evening chow was late. He called the mess hall, and the mess sergeant explained that because their vehicle broke down, they couldn't deliver

the field rations to our bivouac site. The commander immediately yelled to his driver, "Private! Drive to the mess hall and get chow!" The private took off on the 15-minute trip. Over an hour later, we were dismayed to see him return empty-handed. "Private!" demanded the commander. "What about chow?" "It was delicious, Sir," replied the driver. "I got there right before the mess hall closed, so I got seconds."

(Contributed by 1st Lt. Vince Gilkey; as seen in GCFL)

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Microwave Popcorn

n the Army during Operation Desert Storm, I found myself in a world that had changed little since Biblical times. With so few creature comforts available, packages from home containing cookies and canned goods were received with great anticipation.

When I got a box from my sister, I happily tore into it, only to discover just how far from home I really was. She had filled it with packages of microwave popcorn. (Contributed by Robert T. Sims; as seen in GCFL)

Outfit

s a Marine Captain stationed in Okinawa, Japan, I was accompanying the assistant commandant on his inspection of the troops. To break the silence, the general would ask some of the Marines standing at attention which outfit they were serving with.

Ramrod straight, each would respond, "Marine Air Group 36, Sir," or "Second Marine Division, General." But near the end of the inspection, when the general asked a young private, "Which outfit are you in?" the Marine replied, "Dress blues, Sir, with medals!" (Contributed by Lt. Col. John D. Bratten; as seen in GCFL)

Military First Impressions

y youngest brother Tony had just completed Army basic training and was on leave prior to his first tour in Germany. I am an Army National Guard pilot, and my other brother is my crew chief. Since we were headed to the air base where Tony was to

catch his overseas transport, we offered to take him. When we landed at McGuire Air Force Base, several of Tony's fellow privates came out to greet him. Tony ran ahead, while my other brother and I followed with his gear. As Tony approached his buddies, he was bewildered by their dumbfounded stares. Then he realized that his friends weren't seeing his two brothers giving him a lift; they were seeing a new private arrive in his own helicopter -- with a captain and sergeant carrying his bags! (from Cybersalt Digest)

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Soup

ne day in the army I was assigned KP duty. I reported to the Mess Hall and was told by the sergeant in charge that he wanted me to make 100 gallons of soup for tonight's dinner. I told him I didn't know how to make soup. He quickly handed me a book and

told me to follow the directions carefully. Soon after I had a large kettle of soup simmering. The sergeant came up and tasted the soup. He took a second spoonful and stood there staring at me. I thought I had really messed up the soup and was waiting for a reprimand. Instead the sergeant said, "This tastes really good... are you sure you followed the recipe?" (from Mikey's Funnies)

Country

he teacher was explaining to her 2nd grade class the significance of Memorial Day, and they were preparing some songs and stories to put on a little show for their parents. At one point the teacher pointed to the American flag and asked, "Does anyone know

what flag this is?" A little girl called out, "That's the flag of our country!" "Very good!" the teacher said. "And what is the name of our country?" "Tis of thee," the girl said confidently. (from Da Mouse Tracks)

Seals

ome people are extremely impressed when you tell them you're a Navy SEAL. Case in point: My grandson's Kindergarten class on Career Day. I regaled them with

stories of my exploits in the military. After I finished, hands shot up into the air all over the classroom. The kids were eager to ask questions. One little girl asked, "Can you balance a ball on the end of your nose?" (from GCFL)

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Two-Day March

ompany B of the 11th Airborne Division stationed in Germany was sent on a two-day march. The weather was cold and rainy, and the roads soon turned to mud. The battalion commander, a colonel, marched with the troops, first with one group and then

another. On this moonless night, most of the men didn't recognize the colonel with his rain gear on and military insignia covered up. One miserable private leaned toward him and said, "Can you believe some idiots actually make a career out of this?" (from Reader's Digest, "Humor in Uniform")

Impressive Cadet Decorum

ublic displays of affection are not permitted among cadets at the United States Military Academy at West Point, N.Y., although violators may explain offenses in writing.

One errant cadet some years ago wrote: "The actions of my date throughout the evening indicated that she was highly impressed with cadet decorum. Upon saying good-bye, she instituted action for receiving a kiss. Cadet regulations state: 'Courtesy and respect will not be confined to obedience on duty but will extend to all occasions.' I believed it would be a social affront to my date to refuse." The offense was excused. (from GCFL)

Camouflage

ne evening my new husband called to have me pick him up from work. Since I had never been on the military post before, I was a little reluctant, but I agreed to attempt the task.

While I drove through the base, a young soldier in his camouflage uniform stepped out onto the street. I slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting him, and the screeching tires attracted the attention of a nearby MP. I was in tears as the officer approached my car. "I didn't see him!" I blurted out. "Well, ma'am," the MP remarked, grinning at me, "that's kind of the point." (from Christin Smith via Humor in Uniform)

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Bravest Men

dmiral McKenzie was in charge of the Navy, and he was visiting his colleague General Marshall, who was in charge of the Army. McKenzie arrived at the military camp and was greeted by Marshall. They both walked around the place, and McKenzie asked, "So how

are your men?" "Very well trained." "I hope so. You see, my men over at the Navy are so well trained they're the bravest men all over the country." "Well, my men are very brave, too." "I'd like to see that." So Marshall called Private Cooper and said, "Private Cooper! I want you to stop that tank coming here with your body!" "Are you crazy? It'd kill me, you idiot! I'm out of here!" As Private Cooper ran away, Marshall turned to a bewildered McKenzie and said, "You see? You have to be pretty brave to talk like that to a general." (from PearlyGates)

Wartime Cook

he young boy was spending a Sunday afternoon with his grandpa. Looking at pictures of his grandpa in his military uniform, the boy asked, "Grandpa, did you ever kill anyone in the war?"

"No champ, I never did." "That's a good thing." "You're telling me," began grandpa, "I was the cook!" (from Mikey's Funnies)

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Atauro Island:

Most Diverse Waters in the World

reetings from Dili, East Timor! This week let me share facts about an island called Atauro in the land of the beautiful sunsets, Timor Leste also known as East Timor.

Timor Leste is a sovereign state in Southeast Asia. It is comprised of the eastern half of the island of Timor, the nearby islands of Atauro and Jaco, and Oecusse, an exclave on the northwestern side of the island surrounded by Indonesian West Timor. It is one of Australia’s nearest neighbor. The country's size is about 15,410 square km. Timor Leste is one of the newest sovereign countries in the 21st century and the newest in Southeast Asia having gained their independence in May 20, 2002. It was called The Land of Beautiful Sunsets because of its beautiful unspoiled beaches and beautiful sunsets. It was colonized by Portugal in the 16th century and remained a colony for 450 years. In late 1975, East Timor declared its independence but later that year got invaded and occupied by Indonesia. It was declared Indonesia's 27th province the following year and remained occupied by Indonesia for 25 years until a civil war broke out in the late 1970s. The country is dominated by Catholics. 97% of the locals are Catholics and 3% are a mix of Protestants and other religions. The Catholic Church erected the statue of Jesus Christ on a mountain overlooking the capital Dili, similar and second in size to the statue of Jesus Christ in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Then during the visit of Pope John Paul II on October 12, 1989, the government also erected a statue in his honor. The national language of Timor Leste is Tetum, an Austronesian language influenced by Portuguese. Under Portuguese rule, all classes were taught in Portuguese but under Indonesian rule that changed to Indonesian and English.

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Atauro Island Atauro Island is located 24 km north of Dili. It is 23 km long and is home to about 10,000 people, most of whom live in the two main villages of Vila and Beloi on the eastern side of the island. Atauro’s residents depend on farming and fishing, growing annual crops of corn and beans, supplemented with fish, fruit and vegetables. Their only real source of cash income is the growing tourism industry. The local currency used in Timor Leste is the US dollar. Unlike the rest of Timor Leste, which is 97% Catholic, Atauro is predominantly Protestant, but animism here is still practiced by the locals. During the 450 years Portuguese rule, Atauro was used as a prison island. And criminals from other parts of their empire – incidentally the first truly global empire and the longest lasting colonial empire – were sent to Atauro. When the civil war broke out in Timor Leste in August 1975, the Portuguese Governor and his administration fled to Atauro. In 1975 the Indonesians also used Atauro as a prison island, with an estimated 3,000 East Timorese and their families held there between 1981 and 1986.

In 2016, the island of Atauro caught the attention of the world after the Conservation International announced that it had the most biodiverse waters in the world. It has the most species of reef fish per site, with globally superlative reef fish biodiversity. The Conservation International with 50 years of combined experience surveying thousands of reefs around the world, after examining 10 sites in Atauro found an average of 253 reef fish species at each site. That surpassed the previous record for a reef in West Papua, which had an average of 216 species at each site. Overall, the scientists discovered 643 species across the 10 sites, amongst which several species were thought to be new or extremely rare in other locations. Timor-Leste’s unique position with the Timor Seas (Arafura Sea and The Ombai Strait) allows it to receive a constant flush of clean water, nutrients and food that keeps the reefs in great condition and offers an opportunity for fish diversity. Meanwhile, Atauro Island is a small and relatively unknown island a short boat ride away from the East Timorese capital Dili. Atauro has scientists going crazy over the announcement made by Conservation International. As it becomes an increasingly popular tourism destination, it will also become a top diving location. If you are looking for reefs and love snorkeling, Timor Leste is the place for you. The visibility of the water in Atauro is good all year round because there are no rivers in the island. The majority of the reefs are in excellent to pristine condition. Timor Leste is one of the least visited country in the world and it is truly a paradise waiting to be discovered.

The Adventist work in East Timor In Atauro island we have an Adventist church with 15 church members and 2 missionaries working to spread the good news of salvation to its residents. In the country of East Timor, we have only 12 churches and about 650 church members, a big improvement from the time about 5 years ago when we created a mission office. Currently, a brand-new Adventist International School was created with four teachers from the Philippines: two from Silang, Cavite, one from Bacolod City and one from Surigao. Please include the work of God in this Land of Beautiful Sunsets in your prayers.

Romy Halasan

Dili, Timor Leste

In Closing … Announcements | From The Mail Bag | Prayer Requests | Acknowledgment

Meet The Editors |Closing Thoughts

Alumni Calendar

When What Where For More Info

2018. Jun24-Jul 1 Reunion SULADS 50th Anniversary

MVC Campus

http://www.suladsinternational.org

2018. Aug31, Sept 1-2

Reunion MVC School of Nursing Alumni in North America

Florida, USA Raylene Baumgart

2018. Dec28-Jan1 GYC 2018 Houston, TX https://gycweb.org/conference/information/

2019. Jul 15-19 Reunion School of Nursing 50th Anniversary Reunion

MVC Campus

Dr. Gladden Flores

2019 Aug 12-17 Int’l Pathfinder Camporee Oshkosh, WI www.camporee.org 2020? TBD Reunion MVC Alumni NEW MVC

Campus

Dr. Gladden Flores

SULADS’ Announcements: 1. SULADS’ 50th Anniversary Reunion – June 24-July 1, 2018 at MVC Campus. (1 month away!)

This announcement is repeated for redundancy purposes as we continue to receive inquiries as to when the event is to take place. ☺

2. To Register – go to http://www.suladsinternational.org/

3. Interested in visiting the SULADS Mission Schools during the reunion or the Comprehensive High School for Lumads (SCHSL) which was mentioned in today’s issue? There will be opportunities for this! Inform the event planners of your interest by completing the portion included in the registration form.

4. Transportation to MVC – if you need someone to pick you up at the Cagayan de Oro airport or the Davao airport, please indicate in the registration form.

SULADS’ Souvenir Book

SULADS’ 50th ANNIVERARY REUNION SOUVENIR BOOK is undergoing its finishing touches. However, we are still getting inquiries if folks still have a chance to place their ads in! With a memento this precious, we wouldn’t want for any sulad or supporter left out. As requested, we are moving the deadline further by one week to allow YOU to submit ads. NEW DEADLINE TO SUBMIT AN AD: Next weekend on Sunday June 3, 2018. 100% of funds raised from the souvenir book will be used towards the reunion expenses. If you have any questions, feel free to contact any of the following (Pls be mindful of time zones)

Online: Joy Caballero-Gadia Email: watermankids@yahoo.com Facebook Messenger: Joy Caballero-Gadia Sorry No cellphone# available…

In the US: Asher Himbing Email: sherhim1@gmail.com Facebook Messenger: Asher Himbing Cellphone#: 909.206.7778

In the Philippines (Davao):

Darlene Gersava Sabandal Globe: 0935-6316-579 Smart: 0930-6953-841

In Thailand: Chlowe Mantalaba Cellphone: 0992-829-883

In Canada: Lemy Ramada: 250.615.6408 Em Baragona: 780.904.2619

( ) Business – Full Page $200.00 ( ) Business – Half Page $150.00

( ) Personal – Full Page $100.00 ( ) Personal – Half Page $ 60.00 ( ) Thanks. I’ll just donate ________

Note: All payments should be equivalent to the local currency of the country where you live.

Advertiser’s Name _________________________

Facebook Acct Name _______________________

Cellphone # ______________________________

Solicited by ______________________________

Date ___________________________________

Advertiser’s Message: Pls attach 1-2 good quality photos.

Check payable to: ____________ (check with your local SULADS contact as listed above). Submit ad forms to Asher Himbing: sherhim1@gmail.com (909.206.7778) or to Joy Caballero-Gadia at watermankids@yahoo.com DEADLINE moved to June 3

From The Mailbox

From the College President Gladden Flores (This letter is being posted in CF the 3rd time.

Please help pass the word about this change in schedule)

April 19, 2018 Dear Joy, Greetings to all of you there. Hope everything is going fine with you and your family. We have just finished our youth congress and it was very enjoyable experience for our youth and once youth for the whole week. Around 18K were in attendance. Regarding the home coming activity for next year, July 15-19, 2019, the Nursing faculty and staff have reminded me that the School of Nursing Alumni would like to have this homecoming exclusive for themselves alone. They want to have more time for bonding and recollections of their past experiences on the campus and their life in the clinical division. For this reason, we are giving in to their request to have this gathering solely for the School of Nursing. We hope to have a general alumni-homecoming in the future. The SULADS will have their homecoming this year and those who wish to join are very much welcome to the campus. Hope to see you on campus during that time. May God richly bless you and all alumni worldwide. Kind regards, Gladden EDITORS’ NOTE: MVC School of Nursing 50th Anniversary Reunion is on July 15-20, 2019. This is NEXT YEAR. The regular Alumni Reunion for the college at large will be rescheduled for the future. Please help pass the word!

From SULADS’ Datu Puti, Don Christensen (This message is being posted in CF the 2nd time.

Please help pass the word about this website)

Joy: As I was updating the MVCollege.org website this evening I noticed that the Cyberflashes nowhere references the www.suladsinternational.org website. I have put all information available for the Sulads event in that site including a more secure way to sign up than with the google documents procedure. You can reference this if you wish. Don Christensen EDITORS’ NOTE: • Updates on the SULADS Reunion, including Registration for the event, will be found in

www.suladsinternational.org • SULADS 50th Anniversary Reunion will be in 8 weeks: June 24-July 1, 2018

Prayer Requests

FOR THE CONTINUED HEALING OF: Ching Rivera, Virgie Osita, Pastor Oseas Zamora, Pastor Remelito Tabingo and members of the MVC Alumni & Friends who are sick. COMFORT FOR THE BEREAVED FAMILIES OF: Atty. Nick Baguio, Ruth Fabella, Rachel Tabaranza, Gabby Palapar, Honrado Pamintuan , Joe Cortez & his wife Ruth Generato Cortez, Bella Tawatao, Solpen Solilapsi Pierce, Lydia Hilado Ombiga, and other families who recently lost their loved ones.

Acknowledgment

A special thank you to the following who helped make this week’s issue of CyberFlashes:

• Pastor Lemuel Niere, Neria Cajocon Butanas, Dr. Laurence T. Gayao, Elmar Bingcang, and

Ardys Joy Caballero-Gadia for writing about the American Dream

• Romy Halasan for “LIFE of a Missionary”

• Jessie Colegado for chuckles in “Jessie’s Patch of Weeds”,

• The Sulads Thailand and Jhun Cardiente for “SULADS’ Corner”

• Jinggoy Cacho & Lylibeth Halasan for the sulads’ sending off photos

• Eddie Zamora & Evelyn Tabingo for editing; Joy Caballero-Gadia for the layout

Meet The Editors

This week’s issue of Cyberflashes was by Raylene Rodrigo Baumgart. Next issue will be in two weeks.

It will be by Eddie Zamora. Please direct all entries to her or to any of the editors.

NAME: EMAIL ADDRESS:

Eddie Zamora ezamora594 at aol dot com Evelyn Porteza-Tabingo etabingo at gmail dot com Jessie Colegado Cyberflashes at gmail dot com Joy Caballero-Gadia watermankids at yahoo dot com Lily EscaraLare LyLare at Hotmail dot com Melodie Mae Karaan-Inapan melodieinapan at yahoo dot com Raylene Rodrigo-Baumgart raylene.baumgart at gmail dot com Romulo ‘Romy’ Halasan romsnake at gmail dot com

If you wish to subscribe to Cyberflashes, to unsubscribe, or if you changed your email address and want Cyberflashes to be sent to your new address, please send your request via email to any of the editors. We spell out the @ and dot signs in the email addresses to prevent worms, viruses, and robots from harvesting them. If you would like to correspond, simply substitute the correct symbols

New-Sulad Sightings

aken at MVC 2 hours ago at the MVC Pioneer church during the Hour of Worship. (May 26 Philippine time). Pastor Don Leo Garilva offered a special “sending off” prayer for this school year’s sulads who will be deployed to the various mission

schools. There are 89 sulads of them. Amongst the 89 are 11 young married couples, fully trained sulads, and 13 children between the ages of 1½ and 11 years old who will be accompanying their sulad-parents to the mission field. Let us continue to pray for this group of missionaries.

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Closing Thoughts The Editor

ith only $20 and a quarter in my wallet, I arrived at JFK International Airport in New York City. I was expecting a hospital van and some HR personnel to meet me. But there was nobody with a sign stating my name. An hour later, I heard the announcement

repeated several times –“Laylene Go – please go to the information counter.” I went and asked, “I heard the name Laylene Go several times, but I am Raylene Ann Rodrigo, and I am wondering if you are looking for me.” A short and stocky man with a strong Italian accent said, “Well, if you are a nurse from the Philippines going to St. Barnabas Hospital, then it is you I am waiting for.” That was my welcome to America! He then explained that the assigned hospital driver had an emergency so he was called at home to come pick me up at the airport. I looked at him, a man without a badge nor an ID. Anxious and nervous, I looked to heaven and silently prayed that he be truly the one sent to bring me to the hospital. An hour later, I saw the marked gate and breathed a “Thank You” prayer to the Almighty for making sure that I arrived safely. That was September of 1982. A lot has changed since then. I am no longer the young, energetic and skinny 26-year-old eagerly chasing that American dream. It has been three years since I left my nursing career. I have found joy in gardening and visiting botanical gardens if I am not traveling around the world visiting my girls. I never dreamed that I would end up marrying a German and would be traveling more in European countries instead of America. But one thing is certain. Being an American citizen gave me all these opportunities of travel I never would have experienced if I did not take that one step, one risk of leaving home in search of new adventures and a new way of life. The journey was full of both challenges and excitement. I clung only to God’s promise that He will never leave me nor forsake me wherever I go. And He never did!

Happy Sabbath!

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