LAST Sunday, I watched the premiere telecast of Fanny Serrano's "It's A Fanny Day" (Studio 23, 11:30 a.m. to 12 noon, produced by megastar Sharon Cuneta and directed by Rowell Santiago). Immediately, it was apparent that my good friend, with the Lord's blessings, is on top of the world once more.

I'm very happy for Fanny. He doesn't hide the fact that he comes from the humblest beginnings, and looking at him now makes one marvel at the magnificence that God can create, if only He's given full rein and control of our lives.

Fanny was six years old when his father left the family for the embrace of another woman. His mother, who waitressed in a restaurant-by-day, beerhouse-by-night along Avenida, could hardly feed her brood of six, much less send them to good schools.

A product of public elementary and high schools, Fanny wanted to take up Fine Arts in college but his mother couldn't afford it. He ended up enrolling in a secretarial course, but he did not even finish the first semester of his first year because, being the eldest, he had to work to help provide for the family's needs.

Early on, Fanny helped put food on the family's dinner table by selling all sorts of goods, from tomatoes to plastic bags, at Paco market. His first "real" job was as an apprentice in Tammy Candelaria's beauty parlor in Paco, Manila. Aside from sweeping cut hair that constantly littered the floor, he did errands for the customers-buying cigarettes and snacks and hailing taxicabs for them.

He learned the hair and make-up trade because, whenever a beautician was absent, he'd grab the chance to try his hand at it.

He transferred from one parlor to another. A big break came when he did the make-up of Celia Rodriguez's cousin, and the actress asked him to also do her face. That was the start of a life-long friendship and the beginning of his love affair with show business.

His joining Celia at film shootings as her alalay and personal make-up artist paved the way for his becoming an actor. His first movie was Vilma Santos' "Lipad, Darna, Lipad," where he was one of the victims of Valentina, played by Celia.

Then, Pando, a top impersonator, recruited him to join the Paper Dolls, which was a huge hit at Cabaret Royale. He'd impersonate all the foreign singers-Barbra Streisand, Liza Minnelli, Roberta Flack, Donna Summer, etc.

He bought a car and a house, put up his very own beauty parlor and fashion boutique, and surrounded himself with everything that money could buy-including the handsomest hunks in and out of show biz.

Quite ironically, but not surprisingly, the time that he was most successful was also when he was most sinful. He used people, and also allowed himself to be used by people he could use in return.

To top it all, Fanny so bitterly hated his father, whom he violent refused to forgive. He rained colorful curses on him and turned him away when he tried to make peace with him. As he admitted later on, his determination to succeed was principally fuelled by his deep loathing for his father.

In 1987, Fanny found God in a very unlikely place-a skin care clinic. He offered skin care services in his own parlor, but he still went to the clinic of Ms Ofelia Cue because that was where the top socialites had their beauty treatments. As it turned out, Ms Cue used to be terminally ill with cancer. She was just waiting for God to pull the plug but, instead, he completely healed her.

Fanny was so touched by her testimony that he decided to listen to more wonderful stories about God's greatness. He began going to prayer meetings. The more he went, the more questions he had; but the more questions he had, the more he continued to attend the meetings.

Then, the trials came. Indeed. God first breaks those He builds. Fanny found himself in so big a financial mess that he soon lost his car, his house, his parlor, his boutique, everything. And his career, both in the entertainment industry and the beauty and fashion business, slid down to rock bottom.

And the persecution also came. People laughed at him whenever he proclaimed his being a Christian. A lot of his friends secretly mocked him for they refused to believe he was for real. And there were those who openly called him plastic-a fraud, a fake, a big sham.

This was particularly painful for Fanny because he moved in a world where every Tom, Dick and Harry had the right to pass judgment on celebrities like him.

But all that is over now. The dark, seemingly endless night has finally given way to a brand-new day. A new sun shines, a new leaf has been turned. And, today, Fanny cannot ask for anything more. His parlor cum boutique is in a much better location (273 Connecticut st., East Greenhills), he has bought a new house and a fleet of cars, has more businesses than ever before-and he has finally learned to forgive his father and welcome him back to his heart!

Fanny is living proof that what God gives, He can take away; but what He takes away, He can give back a hundredfold.

I thank the Lord for choosing Fanny-along with so many others-to become a tool in bringing me back closer to Him. I remember I was alone in my office, at a loss over what to do with my seemingly insurmountable problems, and the door opened. There was Fanny and his big smile. Right then and there, I broke down in tears. And I'll never forget what he told me after I "unloaded" everything on him: "Ang suwerte mo Inday, ang dami mong trials."

The words came as a very inspiring challenge because they were uttered by someone who'd been to the hell I was in and gone back to tell stories about it. I'm still struggling, I'm still fighting my own demons. But Fanny's story is a constant source of encouragement for me.