Magic Cards, Missing Money, and a Lifelong Punishment

Note: This reflection was originally published on June 21, 2020, and has been edited and republished.

“Class dismissed.” I hoisted my backpack on my shoulders and rushed out of the classroom. Oh, how I’ve waited to hear those words since this morning!

I skip-walked and greeted everyone in the lobby as I exited the school campus while humming Breakfast At Tiffany’s.

Have you heard of Magic: The Gathering?! Everyone’s crazy about it these days. You collect cards, build decks, and go battle with friends. It’s really fun!

The only catch is that it costs a lot of money.

What’s good is I don’t have to worry about that today. In fact, I’m on my way to the card shop to buy the latest edition! Woohoo!

I entered the store with my head held high. While all the mortal kids here are buying their cards in packs, I’m here to buy mine in a box.

I flipped my wallet and slid out three one thousand peso bills. “Miss, please give me a box of Mirage.” I said, then handed the money to the storekeeper. Suddenly, there was silence. As the vendor hands me a denim-blue package, I notice all the other kids watching with their mouths wide open.

Here it comes!

I received my Magic booster box with sweaty palms and an eager nose. I enjoy the smell of new cards. It’s addictive. I kissed my new treasure and stuffed it in my bag, then commuted home.

The clock says four forty-five.

I quickly washed my hands and changed clothes as I got home. There’s a lot of unpacking to do. A box have five hundred forty cards divided into thirty-six packs.

I hurried because I have to finish before my brother and cousins came home. I want to surprise them with my new deck.

Halfway through my unboxing, someone knocked on the door.

“Hi Jed, what are you doing?”

It’s my dad. “Hi, Paps! You’re home early?!”

He glanced down at the messy green carpet. Piles of cards and wrinkled foils are scattered all over.

“Well, I need to get some rest. Something happened at the office.”

“Something happened?” I inquired.

“I was supposed to pay someone, but my cash is gone. I wonder where it went.”

He paused for a while—more like a hesitation—then he eventually asked, “Have you seen it?”

“N-No, of course not,” I responded.

“Well, if you ever see it, let me know.”

“Sure, Paps.”

Then he gently closed the door.

I took another pack, cut it open, and slid out the cards. My nose suddenly felt stuffy, and my chest was heavy. Tears brimmed in my eyes.

I didn’t bother to ask the amount of the missing money because I knew exactly how much it was.

What should I do?

I thought of various ways to confess my deed. A light bulb went on when I saw a paper and an orange crayon lying around the room.

Papa,

It’s me. I took your money.

I am so sorry. =(

Jed

I folded the letter and put it inside an envelope.

I went downstairs to find him in his usual spot: the aquarium.

With my legs shaking, I got out of the room and took my first step down. Then second. But I hesitated to take the third.

Should I give this to Dad? I asked myself. It’s still not too late to throw this paper away.

I could stay silent and let this case be a mystery forever. But I’m sure Dad already knows who took them. How could a fourth grader afford those cards?

No matter which path I choose, either way will result in a death sentence.

My dad is one of the most gentle and kind people I know. But you don’t want to see him angry.

Maybe I could get a lower penalty if I were to admit my crime.

I pushed and took another step down. Time passed slowly from that point until I reached the first floor. Fear has put me in a trance and showcased every worst possible punishment I could get.

Will it be the hanger, the belt, or the stick? Step.
Will I ever play basketball with friends again? Step.
Will he burn and throw away all my cards? Step.
Will I go to jail? Step.

I wiped my eyes dry and took a deep breath before I got on the last step. As expected, Dad is in the fish area. I picked up my pace and acted normal as I approached him.

“Hey, Paps, busy?”

“Mm?” He responded.

Half of his right arm is immersed in the fish tank. He uses a clear tube to siphon dirty water from the aquarium into an emerald bucket.

“Uhm… Paps? I’m s-sorry to bother you. I saw this mail in the mailbox. And uh…It’s for you. It loo-looks urgent, so please read it right away.”

I placed the letter on his marbled work table and zoomed my way upstairs to hide.

My heart pounded as I ran up. 

I took the thickest blanket in my parent’s bedroom and hid under it.

There were a few minutes of silence before I felt footsteps coming this way. I started to cry. I covered my mouth to keep myself quiet, but I’m not sure if it’s helping at all.

Our bedroom door opens and then closes. Another door opens, then closes again. “JEEEED!” Dad called out.

I trembled and held tightly onto the furry blanket.

What happened next is a blur. The next thing I knew, Dad swiftly seized my cover and carried me back to the green-carpeted room.

“I’m sorry Paps, I’m so sorry!!” This is the time when my emotion is at its peak. Tears and milky snot flooded my face as I wailed.

Dad sat me on his lap in front of the scattered cards. I can feel the power of his hands grasping me to stay in place.

“Why, why did you do that?!” he asked. I wiped my eyes with my left forearm and pondered on what to say.

Yet again, the only words that came out were “I’m sorry.”

I honestly didn’t know how to answer. I wasn’t sure what got into me. It was an impulsive act when I saw his wallet lying on top of the cabinet.

It’s time for my punishment.

Dad slowly raised his hand and pointed at the cards. I winced and bid farewell to my collection before he can even say a word. I already see what’s coming.

“Jed, listen to me,” Dad said in a commanding tone.

“All those toys, cards, or whatever you call it…”

“…I want you to consider them as my gift to you.”

His words interrupted me from sobbing. I looked at him. Puzzled.

His tone suddenly changed.

“Your birthday is coming up, right?”

I didn’t know how to respond. The feeling is foreign.

Dad spoke a language I didn’t understand, but it touched me deeply. I buried my tear-streaked face in his torn white shirt and a new wave of tears flooded my eyes.

“But next time…” He uttered in a sweet tone.

“…tell papa if you want anything, okay?”

*

We never talked about that day ever again.

Most people think I dodged a huge bullet.

I thought so too. I got away with stealing? That sounds too good to be true.

Years later, I realized that I indeed got my punishment that day — and it’s more than I ever imagined. I never understood its implication until I graduated college.

It’s my ninth month at my first job when my phone was stolen. Well, I actually left it in the men’s room after brushing my teeth and someone took it. I borrowed my colleague’s phone and typed a message on the numeric keypad. I asked the person to return it to our office, and the reply I got was: “It’s my phone now.”

I was furious. Six months worth of work, gone. The plan was to launch an internal investigation. This isn’t just about my phone. It’s about justice. I have every right to reclaim what’s mine, and bring the thief to account, no matter who he is.

But then I was flashed back to that day. I heard the echo of my father’s voice of forgiveness. I realized I was a thief who was angry at another thief. I called off the investigation at the last minute and replied to the message, “Okay, enjoy your new phone. It’s my gift to you.”

It’s always heck a lot easier to make people pay. To deny forgiveness. To demand what’s fair. But this is the new standard of living Dad modeled to me. Turns out there’s a term for it – it’s called Grace. It’s to show kindness to all people whether they deserved it or not.

Dad’s inexplicable act of grace gave me the punishment of a lifetime: To do the same to others.

*

It’s been more than two decades since I last played Magic.

I can’t even remember how to play the game anymore. Yet I still have a vivid memory of what happened. 

Many times I wonder why Dad didn’t go the other way. He should’ve just got rid of my cards, or even beat me with a rod. I’d rather have a one-time sanction than a lifelong penance. 

It’s not until I became a dad myself when I understood things a little better. 

Punishment is intended to teach good behavior, not to inflict pain. It’s not an outlet for anger but an opportunity to express love. 

My dad is not the expressive type. But I know that day, he said, “I love you, son.”

I love you too, Paps.

Follow the Journey

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The Practice Is The Reward

I can’t remember where I first encountered this phrase. Was it from a dream, or some books I’ve read? One thing is for sure: I didn’t see the importance of that five-word sentence until I experienced its wisdom firsthand.

The phrase I’m talking about is: “The practice is the reward.”

I started this blog in 2019 to record my learnings and adventures as a new dad. But more than the content, I love the process of writing. I like the practice of forging my bodiless thoughts and ideas on paper to make them come to life. I like the challenge of applying logic, strategy, and some creativity to make information or stories easier to absorb.

Writing helps me declutter my mind, make life lessons easier to remember, and, in some weird way, regulate my emotions. I love writing so much that I dare say it is my new sport. (And everyone—including my wife—knows that basketball is my first love.)

But as I got deeper into “blogging,” I found out that you can actually monetize your content. That is, to make money from it. I was captivated by the idea. “Making money while doing what I love?” So I started to explore further, and a new world opened.

Suddenly, I was bombarded by new terms such as Search Engine Optimization (SEO), Keyword Research, and Affiliate Marketing. The more I learned, the more things I had to learn. But the bottom line is, if I want to make money on my blog, I need traffic. I need people to visit my website so I can show them some ads, sell a course, or refer them to products to get commissions. I need to build a brand and grow my tribe so I can incur a steady income stream.

That’s when I started to drift away from the core.

The blog was no longer focused on writing. It is now meant to get traffic and make money. I am so sorry that it happened. Because my joy wasn’t tied to the practice anymore, but to the rewards I could get from it.

Imagine a musician who plays only for fame and fortune, rather than love and devotion to the craft. I wrote articles not because I wanted to write them, but because their keywords had the most potential for traffic. I wrote for the search engines and algorithm instead of for myself or those who matter to me.

The truth is, I already quit writing. I worked on this website for five years, and I didn’t get the results I wanted. But thanks to the boy I saw playing basketball by himself under the scorching sun. He kept shooting even though there was nobody to pay him to do it. He doesn’t care whether someone was watching or not. All he did was play. That’s love. That’s joy. I hope I am not yet that far away from it.

And so, this is my reset.

I removed the logos, the ads, and everything that might distract me from writing in this blog. If there’s someone else reading this now, welcome. But know that I am writing this for myself. I am trying to come back to the way things should be: when practice itself is the reward.

Follow the Journey

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How Leaving Home Taught Me to Become a Better Dad (5 Lessons)

That moment of leaving home is a defining one for many men. Especially here in the Philippines, where moving out from your parents’ house after marriage isn’t a norm. Whether it happened in the past or is on your mind now, you understand the mix of excitement and anxiety.

My own journey started several years ago. My wife and I stayed with our parents for three years before we transferred to our own home to build our family nest. Many of us wonder how to become a better father. We often seek guides and detailed answers, but sometimes the most important lessons come from experiences.

Reflecting on my first taste of independence, I see it wasn’t just about moving to a new place; it provided essential life lessons for men that significantly influence how we father our families today. This journey fosters a mindset of continuous growth, with learnings that unexpectedly hone us to become a better dad.

Let’s explore 5 essential lessons learned from leaving home that surprisingly equipped me for fatherhood.

Lesson 1: The True Weight (and Worth) of Responsibility

So, the first thing I learned after moving out is that bills don’t just magically get paid, the fridge doesn’t automatically get stocked with food, and the toilet definitely doesn’t clean itself. Leaving your parents’ safety net forces you to confront the realities of life and help you own your responsibilities.

Understanding our true responsibility, including managing finances, emotions, and daily tasks, is essential for becoming a better dad. It lays the foundation for teaching our children about the importance of taking charge in their own lives. By modeling how to navigate these challenges, we prepare them to face their own future hurdles with confidence.

Lesson 2: Real Independence Needs Interdependence

Living alone might initially appeal to the introvert in some of us. Personally, I’d be very happy to stay in my room all day and be detached from the world. Just give me a good book and a laptop. Yet, reality quickly teaches me that we all need connection. It doesn’t matter if you are the most introverted person in the world, you will need people to thrive. An electrician to repair your lighting, a doctor to provide medical care, and a mentor to offer guidance.

Whether it’s for support, companionship, or inspiration, human connection plays a crucial role in our well-being. True independence means being self-sufficient while also knowing how to wisely connect with and rely on others. In fatherhood, this means embracing partnership with your spouse, seeking wisdom from coaches or elders, and building a supportive community. Recognizing we need support from other people is key to navigating the fatherhood challenges thrown our way.

Lesson 3: Gratitude Grows with Deeper Understanding

It often takes stepping away to truly see the picture. Running my own household made me deeply appreciate the efforts my parents made. Growing up, I believed things like attending school, wearing clean clothes, having a comfortable bedroom, and eating three meals a day were simply part of a normal life. But they aren’t. Our parents put in a lot of hard work and sacrifices so we can enjoy a comfortable life.

This change in perspective nurtured a deep sense of gratitude within me. As a dad, it’s all about noticing and appreciating all the little things my wife does for our family every day, no matter how big or small they are. It’s understanding that creating a happy family isn’t going to be easy. It requires constant effort, patience, and an unwavering commitment to become a better dad.

Lesson 4: Discovering What’s Truly Essential (Defining ‘Enough’)

Starting out often means having fewer resources. Unfortunately for me, I also started a family with a lot of debt. One of the vital skills I learned quickly was to differentiate wants from needs. Are those new gadgets or sneakers really necessary? In the end, I realized I only need to focus my resources on food, shelter, transportation, and business.

This skill is essential for intentional family living and helps you become a better father by focusing on values more than materialism. Defining “enough” for your family helps prioritize time, energy, and finances on what truly matters: meaningful conversations, creating memories, and working towards common goals instead of seeking external validation.

Lesson 5: Growth Through Experience – How You Become a Better Dad

My path to independence wasn’t perfect – there were tensions, stumbles, even entertaining the thought of going back home. There were nights when I questioned myself whether I did the right thing or not. Some people called me foolish for moving out since I now have to pay my own bills and care for my kids, which I could have done for free by staying with my parents.

But leaving home taught me that progress isn’t always forward; sometimes it involves course corrections. You try, you learn, you adapt. It’s all about growing up as a person.

Fatherhood isn’t about having all the answers or achieving perfection. It’s about embracing the journey, learning from our mistakes and our children’s and growing through experience. This mindset is perhaps the most important answer to the question: How to become a better father?

Conclusion: Building Blocks for A Better Dad

These life lessons for dads, often learned by venturing out on our own, become powerful building blocks. They shape our understanding of responsibility, connection, gratitude, values, and the importance of continuous growth.

The journey to become a better dad is lifelong. It’s built not on grand statements, but on daily application of foundational lessons with intention and love.

Follow the Journey

This journal is my way of making sense of the lessons from the journey. Get the next full entry delivered straight to your inbox.