Category: Susan & Oishi: Heaven’s Disciplinary Mission

Susan narrating (while eating siopao):

Christmas was a blast! Let’s see—I lost count how many Christmas parties we went to. I ate so much I think I could live off fat reserves until mid-January. I sang, danced, and won games with Badoodle, my smug little shih tzu whose tail couldn’t stop wagging from sheer victory.

We rode the ferris wheel, watched fireworks, walked under the stars, visited the North Pole, met Santa—and Jesus tagged along. He gently reminded me that He is the gift, not the hot pink car I keep putting on vision boards.

Now it’s New Year’s Eve. Oishi and I are preparing to welcome the new year—me, with a resolution list and reheated siopao; him, with a suspicious eye and a belly full of leftover ham.

My New Year’s Resolutions:

• Eat less siopao (cutting down from 5 to 4—I call that discipline)
  
• Weekly massage at the spa
  
• Visit the derma to achieve telenovela-level glow
  
• Salon visits, false lashes, and plumped lips (subtle, classy, fierce)
  
• Buy Oishi a luxury dog bed
  
• Work 25 hours a day to fund all of the above
  

I was about to post this on the fridge like a manifesto, when Anghelito and Angelusito appeared. My personal heavenly CCTV duo. I sighed, sat down, and mumbled, “Alright, here comes the unsolicited divine coaching.” Oishi barked like he was in on it.

Angelusito, the sweet one, started gently: “Susan, your list shows you want to care for yourself, which is good.”

Before he could finish, Anghelito rolled his eyes. “But you’re broke, Sus. No offense, but you work from home and have six potholders shaped like elephants. You don’t need more Shopee.” He nodded toward a pile of unopened packages.

Then the mini-sermon began:

• Add fruits and veggies to your diet. They’re not decorations. (Angelusito, gesturing to the rotting apples I bought to impress a guy who never visited.)
  
• Mind your own business. (Anghelito. Of course.)
  
• Only go to the salon if it fits the budget. (Angelusito, lovingly.)
  
• Stop being dramatic. Your neighbor’s toddler crying isn’t a trauma response trigger. (Guess who.)
  
• Work smart, not nonstop. Hustle culture won’t save you from burnout. (Thank you, Angelusito.)
  

I burst into tears, siopao still in my mouth. “I’m tired. I’ve waited so long. I just want to feel alive again.”

Oishi, breaking his usual sarcasm, rushed to lick my tears. (Salty. Regretted it. Still loves me.)

Oishi narrates:

In all my days with Susan, this was different. She wasn’t just being melodramatic. She was worn. She always gives, even when people misunderstand her. She says yes when she wants to rest. She takes care of others but forgets herself. I get why she wants something just for her.

Angelusito and Anghelito narrate:

We’ve watched over these two for years. Oishi, despite his side eyes and obsession with chicken, is the most present being on earth. Susan, meanwhile, is a complex emotional lasagna. Layers.

So when she asked:

• What’s wrong with taking care of myself?
  
• Why do I feel stuck even if I’ve been good?
  
• Why do I feel invisible?
  
• Why can’t I enjoy life without going broke?
  
• Why does everything feel like a never-ending waiting room?
  

We didn’t know how to answer. So we went home.

To heaven.

At Heaven’s Gate:

“It’s us!” Angelusito shouted. “We need to speak to the Boss.”

The gates opened. The King of Kings, radiant and humble, walked toward us. “How are my children? Are they safe?”

We told Him everything. He handed us a Bible and a laptop. “Give her answers. But first, remind her: I will never leave nor forsake her.”

Back at Susan’s apartment:

She was washing dishes, still crying. Oishi glared at us like, “Took you long enough.”

We sat Susan down. Here’s what we told her.

1. What’s wrong with taking care of myself?

Nothing. If it’s stewardship, not image control. God calls us to honor the bodies He gave us (1 Corinthians 6:20). Self-care is holy when it’s about preserving what God entrusted. It becomes a trap when it’s about fixing your worth.

2. What’s wrong with wanting my life to get better?

Also nothing. But Jesus defines better as deeper peace, steadier joy, and a heart aligned with heaven. (Matthew 6:33)

3. What’s wrong with wanting to be seen and feel important?

You were made to be known. Psalm 139 says God sees everything about you. But don’t turn life into a stage. Let God see you first. Then applause won’t define your worth.

4. What’s wrong with wanting good things but still have money to eat?

Desiring joy is not sin. But clinging to money like it’s your savior is dangerous. Hebrews 13:5 says, “Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you”

5. I’m tired of waiting. I’m drifting.

Isaiah 40:31 says those who hope in the Lord renew their strength. Waiting is not punishment—it’s formation. And if you feel restless, maybe that’s your soul saying: you’re made for more than this moment.

6. How can I be happy with small, daily irritations?

You don’t have to fake joy. But don’t waste your pain either. James 1 says trials build character. And small irritations can train you toward maturity, not bitterness.

7. I’ve been good. Why is life still hard?

Because goodness is not a currency. Grace is a gift. God’s love is not a salary you earn. You don’t work for it. You walk in it.

8. Oishi is the only constant thing in my life.

Sweet, fluffy Oishi is a comfort. But your real Anchor is Jesus. He says: I will never leave you or forsake you.

Psalm 23 says:

“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He restores my soul.”

Even in waiting, even in worry, He restores you.

Susan wiped her tears. We made her hot cocoa. Oishi curled beside her like a weighted blanket with legs. We tucked her in.

“I didn’t sign up to babysit humans,” Anghelito muttered.

That night, right before midnight, there was a soft knock at the gate. Boyo showed up holding a thermos of hot cocoa like it was a peace offering, Brenda arrived with something sweet because she refuses to let anyone end the year empty, and Yohannes came in waving sparklers like he was personally assigned to keep hope alive. Susan laughed—real laugh, not dramatic laugh—and for the first time all day, the house felt roomy. The countdown began, Oishi sat proudly like the host, and when the fireworks finally lit the sky, Susan realized she wasn’t just surviving the year… she was ending it loved.

But as we watched her finally at peace, we knew one thing:

Susan may not know what’s next. But she finally believes God is with her.

And that, dear humans, is the only true resolution you need.

Still rising. Still barking.