It’s disturbing to know that some vegetable vendors soak or spray their items with chemicals to keep them looking fresh, disregarding the health risks to buyers. The idea that the veggies on my plate could come with a side of toxic preservatives is unsettling. As I see it, this practice is irresponsible and undermines the trust between us and those who supply our food.

I’ve been in the market scene countless times, a place of fast-moving transactions where vendors are proud of their lush greens, ripe tomatoes, and hefty cabbages. But lately, I can’t help but wonder about the hidden hand of artificial preservation in their vibrant displays. Those colors might look lively, but are they merely costumes hiding a chemical truth? The dishonesty makes me feel like an unsuspecting participant in a performance I never bought a ticket for.

Imagine biting into a leafy lettuce that looks like it was harvested just moments ago, only to find it’s been marinated in who-knows-what to keep up appearances. The irony is painful—the very vegetables meant to keep us healthy are being altered in a way that makes them harmful. It’s a betrayal wrapped in green leaves, and it robs me of the peace of mind I should feel when cooking for myself and my family.

What worries me more is the normalcy of it. How many times have I passed by a stall, trusting that what I see is what I get? These vendors, who may not fully grasp the long-term effects of these chemicals, don’t seem to consider that we eat these vegetables hoping for nourishment, not contamination. I almost feel like I’m participating in an unspoken game where the stakes are higher than they appear: the silent gamble with my health.

What about the farmers who went to the trouble of growing those vegetables naturally? Their hard work feels undermined when vendors douse it with shortcuts, undermining our trust in the entire market system. It’s seeing a master artist’s painting retouched by someone who thinks adding more color makes it “better.” Sometimes, the cost of trying to cut corners is a lot higher than the loss they’re trying to prevent.

You’d think that seeing green and fresh-looking produce is all it takes for me to know it’s healthy and safe. Yet here I am, thinking twice, triple-washing, and feeling less than reassured. I think we should all be alarmed if the once simple act of buying vegetables now feels like a search for the truth. And it’s not like I can hold each vendor accountable—how could I know which ones are taking these shortcuts? The deceptive freshness is as appealing as it is concerning, tricking us all into a sense of safety.

I keep thinking about future generations, too. If my choices now are to scrutinize every leaf and risk my health or avoid buying local produce altogether, it sets a bleak tone. We rely on local vendors to be the bridge between nature and our tables. That bridge, however, feels unstable if it’s built on the foundation of “preserving” vegetables to sell rather than prioritizing our health.

What I would love is for us all—vendors, buyers, and regulators—to revisit our values. Can we promote freshness without chemical meddling? Maybe it’s time to look closer at these injurious practices and consider alternatives like local training, stricter rules, or more public awareness on the subject. The act of buying vegetables should be one of the simplest pleasures in life, not a chemistry test.

WHEN Christ compared the Kingdom of God to a mustard seed and a yeast that start small and insignificant but can grow big in time (cfr. Lk 13,18-21), he was highlighting the truth that our sanctification can be achieved by taking care of the small, ordinary things in our life, doing them with love for God and for others.

Not only that. We also should have in mind that even in our sinful conditions, as long as we go back to God asking for forgiveness and his grace, we can and should still pursue the all-important task of sanctifying ourselves. Indeed, everything and all conditions and situations can and should be an occasion to attain our ultimate telos in life.

We have to learn how to see the sanctifying and salvific potential of the little ordinary things of our life, and even of our wounded and sinful condition.

We have to realize that it’s in the little things, it’s in the care we give to the small, ordinary, prosaic activities and concerns of the day that would prove whether we are really true to our good intentions and to our fervent affirmations of love for God and care for the others.
We need to train ourselves to see God in the little things. The objective reality is that God is everywhere. He’s not only in the extraordinary events in our life. He is always with us.

Thus, we need to learn to be contemplative even in the middle of the world, able to see God in all the good, the bad, and the ugly that the world contains. We need to learn how to be recollected so that even as we engage our senses and faculties with the many immediate things in life, we don’t lose sight of the ultimate end.

With respect to our sinful condition, while we should try our best to avoid committing sin, we should not fail to realize that that condition can and should occasion a stronger urge to go back to God. Let’s make these words of the psalm our own, “In my distress I called upon the Lord, and he heard my voice.” (Ps 18,6)

These words should be carved deep and hard into our mind and heart, so we can always remain at peace and with great hope despite our weaknesses and sinfulness, and all the many other things that can cause us anguish—difficulties, trials, failures, setbacks, etc.
We should not delay in going immediately to God asking for help whenever we find ourselves in situations of distress. God is our Father who will always listen to us, who will always show compassion to us, who will never fail us.

We may fail him many times, but he will always be understanding with us. We should be careful not to be too overwhelmed by our weaknesses and sinfulness as to fall into despair and run away from God.

It’s precisely when we are down when God shows his greatest love for us. We should never doubt this truth which can be validated by the mere fact that God sent his Son to us, and the Son became man and assumed all our sins by dying on the cross.

We obviously should not abuse the goodness and mercy of God, though we also know that somehow we cannot avoid abusing it. What we can do is to learn as quickly as possible the many precious lessons and other good things our weaknesses and sinfulness can occasion in us.

The loved ones who have left are still vivid on our memories, forever keeping us hostage by grief and longing.

Memories of deceased loved ones can be both a source of comfort and a form of emotional captivity. When we lose someone close, our memories of them often become a way to keep them alive in our hearts and minds. However, these memories can also trap us in a cycle of grief and longing, making it difficult to move forward.

One way we become hostages to these memories is through the constant replaying of past moments, both good and bad. This can lead to an emotional loop where we are unable to fully engage with the present or envision a future without the person we’ve lost.

Additionally, feelings of guilt or regret about things left unsaid or undone can exacerbate this sense of being trapped.

Sometimes the places where we go, the songs we hear and the friends we knew came as a consortia of memories that hurts because of our longing.

To navigate this, it’s important to find a balance between honoring our dead loved ones and putting back our focus on our lives. We need to live a life that remembers but also accepts.

As we go back to our dearly departed in all the cemetery in the country, let us remember that, they would be happier if we can focus on the present and facilitate living a simple yet optimistic life.