He makes the dumb to speak

I met a boy today who couldn’t speak. 

His name was Kiking, and he was about eight years old. I suppose the typical response to meeting a mute child would be to locate his parents and take him to a specialist for proper diagnosis and treatment. But as missionaries, we rarely respond in a “typical” way.

When my teammate Joanne and I met Kiking at the ferry port, he was drooling just a bit, and his arms were mottled with discoloration and warts. Although we spoke to him in his native dialect, he would not respond vocally, not even to tell us us his name, which we later learned from some bystanders. “Do you know Jesus?” Joanne asked him, and he nodded yes.

What affected me most about this little boy was not his physical skin condition as much as the fact that he could not say his own name. I wanted so badly for him to know his identity, that he is a son of God. Perhaps he has no parents or no place to stay at night, but he has a place in this world and more importantly a place that God has prepared for him in the heavenly kingdom.

A little first aid and a lot of love for some neighborhood friends at my house in Sagay.

We prayed over Kiking for healing, for Jesus to loosen his tongue so that he might speak, and we gave him my cross and Joanne’s “Jesus loves the Philippines” tshirt, so he will remember who he is and Whose he is. I know this was just one of many encounters God has in store for us this year, and I pray that, with my teammates’ courageous initiative, I will become a bolder witness to Christ and to the Gospel.

“For God did not give us a spirit of timidity but a spirit of power and love and self-control. Do not be ashamed then of testifying to our Lord.” ~ 2 Tim 1:7-8

Putting His Word in her hands

This afternoon I was in the mall bookstore buying a Bible diary for my friend. It includes the daily Mass readings, a simple reflection for each day, and a place to journal your thoughts and prayers.

Taking time to meditate on Scripture is a daily practice for every missionary.
Having the jungle as a backdrop is just an added bonus.

The young woman behind the checkout counter examining my selection commented, "Wow, it's so nice."

"Do you have a book like this?" I asked her. "Oh, no," she quickly responded.

"Will you buy one for yourself?" I probed.

She giggled a little nervously, probably wondering why this white American girl she had never seen before was taking such an interest in her personal life. "Maybe later....after my pay day."

I knew immediately this was just a polite way of saying "no." The book cost 250 pesos, about $5.50, but here in the Philippines that same amount can easily pay for several complete meals, or even 5 kilos of rice. Obviously this woman's hard-earned money would be spent on essentials like food and rent before considering an unnecessary purchase such as this book.

"Would you like to have one? I'll buy it for you," I offered nonchalantly. This was a bit of a gamble on my part, but she seemed so sincere in expressing her desire for it that I figured she just might accept.

"Oh, no! That's so generous of you. I can't...."

I grinned like a little child who has for the first time experienced the pure delight of giving a gift and being rewarded by the gratitude of the receiver. "I'm a Catholic missionary," I explained. "I like to buy these books for my friends so they can read the Bible every day. What's your name?"

Her name was Eunice, and she didn't quite know what to do with herself or with me, for that matter. I purchased both books and returned one to her, watching the expression on her face transform from bewildered to happily surprised.

"Are you all friends?" I asked her two coworkers who were shyly smiling and observing the whole exchange from behind the counter. "You have to share it with them, okay?" I instructed her.

She willingly agreed to do so, and I caught her grateful smile one last time as I walked out the door. What a simple, unadorned moment of evangelization! For five dollars, I had the supreme privilege of making the Word of God available to a soul seeking to know Christ. What more should I desire but to make Him known and loved?

My sweet Jesus, thank you for reminding me again of the mission You have given us to spread the Gospel to all the earth!

Faith enough to see

Our friend Rose, a woman who lives far up in the mountain, walks almost weekly to our house to ask us for rice and other basic necessities. We are only too glad to help her, but in addition to feeding her body, we also desire to provide food for her soul.

On her most recent visit, we opened our bilingual Bible and invited her to read a particular passage in Visayan. Only then did we discover that she is slightly farsighted and in need of reading glasses. Of course, for a woman who frequently goes hungry, such glasses would be quite a luxury. 

In that moment, I recalled that, while packing my suitcase to return to the Philippines, I had at the last minute tossed in a donated pair of glasses. 'These won't be of much use,' I remember thinking. I didn't even know the grade of the lenses. 

As Rose squinted to make out the words of Scripture, I jumped out of my chair and with growing excitement ran into the bedroom to dig said glasses out of the bottom of my suitcase. There they were, in a purple animal print case that perfectly matched Rose's outfit of the day. 'Dear Jesus, please let these glasses be the right prescription for Rose,' I prayed under my breath as I brought them out to present to her.

She tried them on, murmured "Ooh," and at our urging turned her gaze back to the words on the page. Now she read the words aloud, seeing them clearly for the first time.

I don't know why, but it still amazes me every time the Lord performs a miracle in answer to my simple prayers. Why is "I can't believe it!" automatically my first thought and the first words out of my mouth? I can just imagine Jesus smiling down on me and lovingly shaking His head: "O ye of little faith! Did you not believe that I would do this for you?"

This Lent, let's try to pray with greater faith. Let's pray, trusting that God will answer us in big ways. Let's expect miracles.

Seeing our Papa!

I had the amazing opportunity to see Pope Francis IN PERSON while visiting Manila this January. We waited on the sidewalk for four hours, and it was totally worth the wait! 

The hidden blessing behind the long wait was that we had an awesome opportunity to evangelize the policemen and "human barricade" volunteers lining the street. All of us missionaries were singing praise songs to pass the time, and soon people nearby started asking who we were and making song requests. We told them about our mission work and even invited everyone to join us for a group Rosary. (We also practiced doing "the wave" up and down both sides of the street.)

Finally, the Holy Father arrived! It was a powerful moment, witnessing him pass by and recognizing that he is indeed the successor of St. Peter and the Vicar of Christ here on earth.

And although we didn't get a personal audience with the pope, we did happen to run into him one week later outside a Catholic bookstore in the mall. He didn't mind at all when we asked for a group photo. 

We love you, Pope Francis!!

Our God heals

One of my favorite students, a young man named Kevin, approached me after English class, clearly with something important on his mind.

"Ma'am, will you please come to my house and...um, heal my brother?"

As he said this, he motioned with his hand to demonstrate how he has witnessed us praying over his sick classmates on numerous occasions.

"Yes, of course I will come," I replied, quickly adding, "but I cannot heal anyone. Only God can do that."

Earlier that morning, my team and I had been meditating on the Gospel story of the woman with a hemorrhage who, in great faith, reaches out to touch the hem of Christ's garment and is healed. We were struck by how Jesus can bring about miracles when we simply ask in faith, and together we prayed that the Holy Spirit would direct us toward someone in need of healing. And now, just a few short hours later, here was Kevin humbly asking me, his English teacher, to come lay my hands on Alan, his sick brother.

My teammate Joanne explaining the Scripture story to Alan.

Three of us visited Kevin's home that afternoon. Together with his mom, we reread the Gospel story, traced a cross on Alan's forehead with holy water, and prayed for a miraculous healing. It takes some amount of faith to pray in this manner, and always there are the doubts -- what if nothing happens? What if the family is disappointed and I look like a fool? But still we prayed.

A few days later, back in the school, my teammate pulled Kevin aside and questioned him about Alan. A big smile crossed over his face. "Ma'am Rebecca healed him," he said. Kevin's English isn't always perfect, but I believe he understands in his heart what happened that afternoon and knows Who it was that healed his brother.

Salamat sa Diyos! as we often say. Thanks be to God the Healer! And thanks be to God for allowing us to act as His hands and feet.

Kissing Jesus

For the past week I’ve been feeling a little empty inside, as though my heart isn’t totally engaged in what I am doing; maybe you could call it spiritual dryness.  It takes more of an effort on my part to smile sincerely, to participate fully in conversation, to feel real empathy for the suffering people who come to us seeking comfort. I attribute it mostly to fatigue. Last year, as new arrivals on Camiguin, we had ample time to rest and relax as we transitioned into our new house and lifestyle. This year, we returned to our mission house to find ministry projects already awaiting us! It felt like we hit the ground running, and, as a result, didn’t have the luxury of an adjustment period.

Yesterday I was feeling sorry for myself as I struggled to fully engage in all that was going on around me. I picked up Maggie, the three-year-old daughter of our missionary companions who are living here with us in Sagay, and we made silly faces at each other for a while. Then Maggie grabbed my cross and asked “What is this?” She held it up to my mouth so I kissed it, and then she did the same. Maggie is a repeater -- she often picks up a phrase or action and repeats it over and over again to a point of exhaustion -- so it was no surprise yesterday when she held the cross up for me to kiss a second time, and then a third, the two of us taking turns back and forth.

It was a moment of realization for me -- a moment in which Jesus Christ was inviting me to love Him even more. Sometimes we do not “feel” the love of God as tangibly as we might like. Sometimes following Him in faithfulness is purely a matter of the will, as we choose to say yes to God even though our natural tendencies draw us in other directions. St. Augustine says, “Believers are strengthened by believing.” I know this to be true because, as I make the free choice each day to believe in God and to serve Him, regardless of my human emotions or feelings, He increases my faith even more.

When Maggie, in her childlike innocence, held the cross to my mouth to kiss over and over and over again, I could feel my heart responding with a committed love - perhaps not the passionate ardor of someone who has recently fallen in love, but the stronger, deeper love of someone who has experienced the emotional highs as well the times of silence, of quiet togetherness, of simply “being” and not having to do or say anything to assure one another that love is still present.

I pray for the return of fervor and ardor into my heart, but I am not afraid of this quiet interlude, either. I know that during this time He is testing my faithfulness, the depths of my love, and so I respond in hope and with the surety pronounced by Simon Peter when the Lord Jesus questioned him:

“'Simon, son of John, do you love Me more than these?' And he said to Him, 'Lord, You know everything; You know that I love you.'" St. Peter, help me to love Jesus as you loved Him!

Back in His house

How good it is to be back in my mission home! This afternoon found me praying in the church, thanking Jesus for having brought me back to this place and these people who have captured my heart. After a while my silence was happily disturbed by four little girls who had come bearing flowers to offer to Mama Mary.

"Ate Rebecca!" I have a terrible memory for names, especially with so many children in town, but I recognized the girls from last year and was glad to see them again. I watched as they placed their freshly-picked flowers around the Nativity creche with such care and intention. They weren't escorted by parents -- this was no forced devotion. They had come freely, in their love for Jesus and His Mother.

They ambled around the sanctuary for a few minutes, stopping to pray beneath the crucifix and a moment later giggling as they took turns standing behind the pulpit. I marveled at how much God's house is a home to them, and how they could at once display both reverence and the total comfort and relaxed joy that you would expect of children playing in their parents' home. It reminded me of when the child Jesus is lost in the temple; He responds to the Blessed Mother's queries: "How is it that you sought Me? Did you not know that I must be in My Father's house?" (Luke 2:49)

As I finished my prayer time, kneeling and raising my hands in praise of Him Who made me, I heard the tittering of quiet laughter. The girls had settled into the pew behind me. I opened my eyes to see the sun casting shadows on the stone floor in front of me -- my own large shadow and on either side matching smaller ones. Two of the girls were imitating me with their hands raised in the air, and they evidently found it funny. I laughed a little along with them. Sometimes the job of a missionary is so simple. Do you love Jesus? Are you not ashamed to let it show to everyone around you? Then you, too, can be a missionary.