On Palm Sunday afternoon, I headed to the church to pray. I love the busyness of Sagay and the ever-growing posse of children who have become my dearest friends, but on this particular afternoon I was really looking forward to having some quiet time with the Lord. The church was empty other than a group of devoted parishioners gathered in the front pews, and I felt almost victorious for having successfully walked the few blocks from our cottage without being seen by any of the kids.
But my victory was short-lived. After some moments of peaceful prayer, I noticed a little scraggly-haired boy approaching each of the parishioners to “bless” them, a traditional Filipino custom to show respect to elders.
Guess who it was? None other than Mark Vincent, our friendly neighborhood “little rascal.” Annnnd here comes the rest of the gang....and now they’ve spotted me.
Of course they jubilantly hasten to surround me. It’s Jonas and Giami, as well as everyone’s favorite sibling trio (Mark, Mary Grace, and Mark Vincent), all munching on green mangoes. We have broken conversation in both English and Visaya for quite some time before I announce that it is time for me to pray.
“Shh, simbahan...balay ni Jesus,” I say, reminding them that racing around the pews is not appropriate here in the house of God. But they can’t stay quiet for long, so I take them out of the church. Once outside, I notice that several of them are concealing pieces of chalk in their shirts.
“Gikan asa?” I ask. Where is it from?
From the church, they admit. Providentially, I see before us the stone tablets gracing the front yard of the church property and bearing the Ten Commandments in Visaya.
“Numero syete...Ayaw kamo pagpangawat,” I teach them. You shall not steal! And so they return the chalk with my promise that we will head to the store to buy some for ourselves.
Along the way, they ask me for breakfast -- they all attest that they have not yet eaten, and now it is early afternoon. Perhaps this is true, perhaps not, but my heart has already melted into a puddle on the street. Wala bugas, they say; there is no rice at home. And so, holding hands and dodging motorelas, our happy band skips along to the store. We purchase the desired chalk, as well as bread and bananas for all of us to share. Bystanders on the street shout good-naturedly to us, remarking about “my” many children. I just smile and call “vamos!” whenever the kids’ pace begins to slow. There is still a lesson to be learned!
“Numero syete?” I urge them to repeat the commandment several more times, hoping it will sink into their minds and hearts.
As a missionary, I don’t always see the fruits of my labor, but sometimes the Lord generously blesses me with visible proof that my work is not in vain. And such was the case on this Palm Sunday afternoon. When we arrived back home in front of the cottage, I supplied each child with a piece of chalk, and little Jonas immediately knelt down on the pavement and began to write...
7. Ayaw pagpangawat
As I recall this experience with the children, I realize that Jesus sent them to find me in the church, not as an interruption but as an invitation. He is inviting me to a ministry of teaching young children the Catholic faith.
How appropriate that the first reading at Palm Sunday Mass came from Isaiah 50:
“The Lord God has given me the tongue of those who are taught. Morning by morning He wakens, He wakens my ear to hear as those who are taught.”
Every day in prayer, the Lord opens my ears so I can hear what He wants to teach me. He trains my tongue with the words He wants me to say. Finally, He gives me opportunities to share what I have learned.
I am blessed to have such a captive audience that is hungering for knowledge of God. Please pray for me as I continue to learn more Visaya so I can better communicate Christ’s love to these children.
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