"I was sick and you visited Me"

This has been a summer overridden with medical ministry! Checkups, hospitalizations, surgeries, prescriptions...you name it and we've done it.

When reviewing just the facts and figures - the endless pharmacy bills and hospital fees - I am tempted to grumble. Why me, Lord? Why are you bringing so many sick people to our door? It seems that we are the only option, the last hope for so many poor and defenseless persons here in Sagay.

Visiting Jocelyn at home after her discharge. Prayer is the most effective medication!

But when I lift my gaze from the finances and look into the faces of the sick and suffering, when they become real people with powerful stories of hardship, trials, and unwavering faith in the midst of it all, I stop worrying about the contents of my bank account. These, after all, are my friends.

This morning I arrived at the hospital at 6:00am for a blood test and two ultrasounds. Lola Mimi has chronic kidney disease, and the pain makes it difficult for her to walk. Auntie Bebe's severe stomach pain turns out to be a large, possibly malignant ovarian cyst.

Lola Mimi having her blood taken. 

In between tests, we pay off our most recent bill for Ramil, our good friend who volunteers as the chapel leader of his community. Last week he was in a motorcycle accident and fractured his humerus - it's a miracle he is alive! Still, his recovery may be lengthy and his family has no other source of income. "Malooy kami kanila" - a Visayan phrase meaning we feel pity for them, or more literally we have mercy on them.

Inside the hospital, we sit and wait. We speak with doctors from time to time, converse with other patients, and pray a Rosary together, but mainly we just wait. And in the waiting there is a fraternity, a mutual understanding that, as a missionary, it is my joy and privilege to enter into the daily lives of the people I serve, to be one with them, even in the simple action of sharing a bench outside the emergency room.

Reading the Bible together with Ramil and his cousin Eva.

It is now 4:30pm, and I am still waiting here in the hospital. It's beginning to feel a little like home, as with each visit I become better acquainted with the various specialists, nurses, med techs, and social welfare workers.  For a moment I am struck by the irrational fear that I could spend the rest of my days here within the walls of this institution, sponsoring and advocating for patients who cannot do so for themselves. But I know that, at the end of it all, at least I will have done what Our Lord has commanded me - to visit the sick, to give to the poor, to provide for the widows and the orphans. And in that I find peace.