Jesus in the home

Last week we visited our friend Alex and his family in the mountain. We met Alex this year when he began working at one of the stores in town where we shop. He is a single dad and lives with his 7-month-old baby boy in his parent's house, along with a few of his siblings, nieces, and nephews.

When we gathered the family together to pray, Alex eagerly agreed to read aloud from the Bible. With so many little kids running around, it seemed only appropriate to read Matthew 19:14.

"Jesus said, 'Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.'"

Alex's mother is a holy woman! She explained to us that she cares for the needs of all her own children and now her grandchildren as well. Pointing at a picture of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, she noted that, just like the Blessed Mother who is always depicted holding Our Lord, she too is always carrying children.

A beautiful visit to a beautiful family! Recognize the guy in the jersey? My brother Paul, who visited us last year on Camiguin, has happily returned. It's such a blessing to have him here!

His Rose

Riding the ferry at 5:00 this morning, I awake from a short nap and look around at the other passengers. Far in the front of the boat, I spot a young woman carrying four bags who is alone and appears rather sad. She has the same hair and profile of my 9th grade student, Rose. The same black and white jacket. The same headband...but it couldn't possibly be her, or could it? Just then she lifts her hand to cover her face, and her long, slender brown fingers are unmistakable. How many times have I seen that same gesture repeated in my class? 

I approach Rose and call her name. She looks up, and it is exactly like a scene from a movie, when a child is caught running away from home by just the person she never expected to see. She sits there, speechless, and her face is a mixture of consternation and surprise. A few moments pass in silence - each of us shocked that the other is here on this very boat - until I take courage and ask, "Where are you going?" It seems she has been crying, and she is still a little slow to respond, so I move her bags and sit down on the bench beside her. Finally she explains: she is going home to her grandmother and her baby, the two-year-old child she has not seen since she left them on the mainland and moved to Camiguin.

It has not been an easy life for Rose as a working student, living with her employers, with no free time even to complete the homework that I assign every day in class. And now, five months to the day, she is returning to the life she knew before, which is by no means an easier one. Living in her Lola's home together with the father of her child, who is deaf to her pleadings - no one would argue that this is love, when a man's affection is forced upon a woman who desires to escape it.

The rain blows hard against the tarpaulin, and Rose shivers. "Come, all your bags are getting wet," I insist. So we change seats and I gently ask, "You will not be coming back to Camiguin?"

"Oh, ma'am! My show and tell...," she exclaims, dismayed at the thought of disappointing both me and her classmates. Her presentation was scheduled for next Tuesday. "I don't care about your show and tell!" I respond a little too quickly. "I am just sad because, if God had not put us on this ferry together, I might never have seen you again." Such is the case for almost everyone she is leaving behind, I realize, as she explains that only her class advisor, her employers, and now I know of her decision to move home.

We ride the rest of the way to the port and then make our way to the bus terminal. Both of us are west-bound, so there is still some time before we must part ways. I ask the Holy Spirit for inspiration, for an encouraging word to leave with her if, indeed, this is the last time we will meet. In between bus stops - first to load additional passengers, later to pick up a few barrels of fresh squid - I lead us in a prayer.

As we pray, I consider what I know of Rose's story. Pregnant at 15, unwanted by her parents, she tried her utmost to care for her child. But living every day in dread of the young man she once loved - who later refused to move out of the house and leave her and the baby in peace - sounds rather like a complicated form of slavery to me. Having to choose between her freedom and her child, Rose did what she thought best and left the baby with her grandmother, as she set out to complete her high school education, hoping to someday be able to provide for her daughter. How unbearable is the heartbreak of a mother forced to give up her child! And remarkably, she grasps the tragic irony of it all, that she who was abandoned at a tender age by her mother has now repeated history by leaving behind her own small daughter.

What a relief it is to pray with her, because it is only the Savior of the world Who can save Rose from the circumstances that she is facing. The words of the prophet Isaiah come to mind, and I turn to my Bible to share with her the passage that has so often comforted my own sorrowful heart. For her, however, the words are not merely metaphorical, because she has lived them. Indeed, they seem to come to life on the page as I read them aloud:

"But Zion said, 'The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.' 'Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have graven you on the palms of my hands.'" -Isaiah 49:14-16

I close the book and turn to see her weeping. Hers is a face of strength. You may perhaps condemn her for leaving her child, or even for giving up on her education, but there is no condemnation in the words of Our Lord. There is only love, deep love, and His promise of unending fidelity to His precious Rose.

A few minutes later and we have arrived at the crossing - this is her stop. They have no Bible at home because her Lola cannot read or write, so I've hurriedly copied the verses and scribbled a note assuring her of my continued prayers. I hug her goodbye, and she flashes that same brave smile I have come to expect every afternoon at 2:30pm when I enter her classroom. But this is the last time I will see it, and I hold the image in my memory a little longer so I will not forget her.  And you, my child, must never forget how dearly you are loved.

Preaching the name of Jesus

It's late Sunday morning, and I'm making my way across the cathedral parking lot, past all the tents of religious goods, past all the "regulars" - the community of beggars who daily stand outside the church selling little candles for visitors to purchase. Suddenly I'm stopped by a striking young woman carrying a baby on her hip in a large piece of cloth slung over her shoulder.

Daisy and Norma, two of our cathedral friends.

"Gutom" - we are hungry - she says, motioning to her mouth with what must be the universal sign for food. As she guides me down the alleyway of the market to a small food stand, I realize that it is no longer just one woman but two...three...four women with two small children and two infants.

Waiting for the six cups of rice and six small fish to be placed in plastic bags, I remind them to thank the Lord for the food that He is providing. I tell them that I am a Catholic missionary and proudly recite the Visayan phrase I've been practicing: "Si Jesukristo nahigugma kaninyo - Jesus loves you!"

St. Augustine Cathedral in the early morning.

In response, I am met not with smiles but with slight confusion and disinterest. How do they not understand this simple phrase? I wonder, especially here in the market surrounded by thousands of rosaries, religious artworks, and statues of Jesus and His Blessed Mother. So I try again. "Nag simba mo? Are you going to attend Mass today?" More confused looks. Finally I bite the bullet and ask a question that we so rarely ask here: "What religion are you?"

"Islam," one of the women responds. Ah, now I understand.

"Catholic missionary ko. Ang akong Dios si Jesukristo - My God is Jesus Christ. And the rice is from Jesus."

There is power in the name of Jesus. Here in the Philippines, it's not often I have the chance to minister to someone who has not from her earliest childhood heard and been taught to reverence the name of Jesus. And so I forget what a privilege it is to know Him and to speak His name.

My God is not a far-off deity, but a loving Father and Friend Who provides even a breakfast of rice and fish to His hungry children today, just as He did 2,000 years ago.

"They saw a charcoal fire there, with fish lying on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, 'Come and have breakfast.' Now none of the disciples dared ask Him, 'Who are you?' They knew it was the Lord." - John 21:9,12

I pray that these women and children would also know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it is the Lord.

"Let the children come to Me" -- a beautiful stained glass in the cathedral.

"Therefore, God has greatly exalted Him, and bestowed on Him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus, every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." - Philippians 2:9-11

Called to serve the Lord

I am very proud to introduce the two young men we are sponsoring at the Priests of the Sacred Heart of Jesus seminary in Cagayan de Oro. Both are recent high school graduates who felt the Lord inviting them to discern a call to the priesthood.

Visiting Edgar, Marnilou, and Fr. Archie, the priest in charge of their formation.

Edgar was one of my favorite students at Holy Rosary High School. He is a bright and respectful young man. Last fall, when we casually questioned him and his classmates about their life goals, Edgar admitted that he wanted to be a priest! We were happily surprised and encouraged him, giving him a Bible and a book on St. John Bosco to learn more about the priesthood. Fatherless, and with his mother abroad for the past eight years, Edgar was raised by his grandmother. He wrote this letter to express his thanks to all of our benefactors:

Edgar and his Lola invited us to join them for a meal after their town's fiesta Mass.

"Good day!! I am Edgar Magpatoc Abid. I am 18 years old. I live in Manuyog, Sagay, Camiguin Province. I graduated from Holy Rosary High School 2014-2015 last March. I am the son of Ednalin M. Abid and the grandson of Angelita M. Abid. I have no father. I am an illegitimate child. We are two siblings, and I am the oldest. My grandmother is a servant of God; she is a lay minister. My mother works abroad. I am Edgar M. Abid, who has a dream to become a priest someday. I want to become a priest because I want to know God, to serve God, to love God, and to be happy with Him in heaven. I want to help those people who do not truly believe in God and also spread the words of God. I am so very thankful for the support. I hope that you will continue supporting my vocation and I pray that our Beloved God will bless you and guide you. Also, pray for me in my chosen vocation. Once again thank you!"

Our other seminarian is Marnilou, who graduated this spring from Sagay National High School. He comes from a strong Catholic family, with one brother already ordained a priest and another brother currently studying in the same seminary. We first met him through Edgar -- their families are next-door neighbors -- and we are so honored to be sponsoring him in seminary. This is his letter to all of our benefactors:

Happy fiesta! Visiting with Marnilou, his brother Marnito (also in seminary), and their parents.

"First of all good day!! I am Marnilou Namata Piloton, 18 years old. I live in Manuyog, Sagay, Camiguin Province of the Philippines. I am the 4th to the youngest in our family. Let me introduce my parents. My father is Marnito Nituda Piloton Sr. and he is the president of our [village] chapel. My mother is Melchorita Namata Piloton and she is a member of the Divine Mercy [devotional group].
We are all twelve siblings, 3 girls and 9 boys. The oldest, Rev. Fr. Marlo Namata Piloton, is a priest of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. The next are Jameson, Marinel Pangasian, Manelyn, Malbert, Mariel, Marjory, Marnito Jr. (who is a seminarian in his 3rd year now), me, Mardel, Mark, and the youngest is Marl James.
I want to become a priest someday to follow Jesus Christ and serve the people, especially the poor. Like my brother, I want to serve the Lord and to become His soldier, and this is my way to serve Him.
Please pray for me to the Lord our God Jesus Christ, especially for my vocation life in the seminary. Thank you, and God bless us!"

I am inspired by these two young men who are responding to the call God has placed on their hearts to serve His Church! Let us pray for Edgar, Marnilou, and all young people who are discerning the priesthood or religious life.

When there is no justice...

I don't teach for the sake of the lessons. I teach for the students.

That might sound obvious, but what I mean is this: being a teacher at Holy Rosary High School is just my "in," a foot in the door to these kids' lives. Inside the classroom, it's nouns, verbs, and English vocabulary, but that's all superficial. It's outside the classroom that counts.

Today during our lunch break, three of my students arrived on our doorstep, telling me they were "problematic." As it turned out, their problem was a common one - no money to pay for tuition this month. But why? I wanted to know the back story, to get more information on their families and home lives.

Mae began, explaining to me that her mother moved to another island three years ago for work and now has a "new family" there; she hasn't visited for the past two years. Mae's father moved to the mainland this past December and sends money back to her, but only on occasion. With both of her parents gone and her grandmother having passed away this spring, Mae is officially the woman of the house.

Their home in the mountain.

Mae is 14 years old and in charge of her 13-year-old brother Rey and their little brother, who is in first grade. She and her siblings live alone up in the mountain. Every morning she wakes at 4am to cook for her "little family." She walks a far distance down the mountain each day to fetch water for their house. During the week she goes to school, and every Saturday she is busy hand-washing all their clothes. Her brother Rey should be in 7th grade, but he dropped out after one month because, as Mae explains, "no budget."

Walking down the mountain from their house.

"Who takes care of you?" I asked. "Who looks out for Mae?"

"No one," came the heart-wrenching reply, as she buried her head in my shoulder and wept.

Injustice. The word boils up inside of me and spills over just like the coffee pot when I leave it too long over the fire. Injustice, that a 14-year-old child should be the sole guardian and caregiver for her two younger siblings. Injustice, that she should have to concern herself with the survival needs of her family while the other teachers and I still unwittingly expect her to attend class each day and complete her assignments.

And most of all, my own injustice, that I've been trying to "prudently" distribute and budget my alms, when, as a matter of justice, every penny I own belongs to Mae and to those like her.

The only available water source for Mae's village is near the bottom of the mountain.

I wish I had a neat and tidy ending to this story, but there is none. For now, I could leave Mae only with the promise that Papa Jesus Himself is taking care of her, and with our own small commitment to sponsor her monthly tuition fees.

Mae is a brave young woman and I am proud to call her my student. I am begging the Lord to have mercy on her and to show me a greater way to love His children, who deserve so much more than we can ever offer them.

"You are not making a gift of your possessions to the poor person. You are handing over to him what is his. The world is given to all and not only to the rich." ~ St. Ambrose

We are sponsoring Mae and 20 other needy children like her. Please consider becoming a part of this work by donating to our mission!

Humbled by the holy ones

One summer morning, I read in Luke 14:11, “Every one who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.” I knew Jesus was speaking those words to me. That afternoon, I stopped by the home of my student Kevin (read an older story about him here). Kevin, his cousin Edgar, and their neighbor Marnilou all graduated from high school this spring and are entering seminary this year to join a religious congregation of missionary priests. 

I wanted to visit with each boy’s family to discuss financial sponsorship for seminary. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that it was Kevin’s birthday, and his mother had prepared a feast at which we missionaries were to be the guests of honor. Talk about being humbled! My heart dropped to the floor as I realized this family had probably made many sacrifices to afford this special meal, and I did not even bring a small gift to celebrate his birthday. 

Thanking Kevin's mom for the delicious food!

But I couldn’t stay downcast for too long, as they began joyfully serving us heaping spoonfuls of all manner of food prepared with such care by Kevin’s mother. She led the blessing, thanking God for Kevin’s life, and all at once I was flooded with such a great love for their family and for these young men who aspire to become priests. All three boys admitted to us that they first felt called to the priesthood at a young age, about 9 or 10, through the witness of their own parish priests and through experiencing the presence of God at Mass. Now, still so young, they are ready to answer God’s call. It will take years of formation on another island, away from their own family and friends. It will cost much more than they can afford, and so they must depend on the generosity of sponsors to support their studies. But, as Edgar explained, their hope in becoming missionary priests is to bring Jesus to distant mountain areas, to bring the Eucharist to people who have never before heard the name of Jesus.

I am so honored to have a hand in helping these young men pursue their religious vocations. The Lord used the Scripture verse on humility to prepare me for my encounter that day, and to remind me once again that it is often His poorest, littlest children who have the greatest desire to offer their lives as a sacrifice back to Him, to thank Him for all that He has done.

“He called to Him those whom He desired; and they came to Him.” - Mark 3:13


**Update**
Since writing this, both Edgar and Marnilou have joyfully entered seminary. Kevin has decided to spend this year working and taking college courses while he continues to discern where God is calling him. More updates coming soon on our newest seminarians!

"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.