Category Archives: Church

Adventure, Church, Faith, Family, Friendship, Life, Love, Women

Alfonso on a Whim

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Taywanak, Alfonso.  July 12, 2015.  On a whim, I decided to escape Southbay and come to Alfonso yesterday afternoon with Jeovanie and Bleng, our caretaker couple from the farm who have been helping me clean up the house. My girls allowed me to drive since I had company in the car. Besides, they all had Saturday night plans, which didn’t include mom. Funny that I always had to ask Mike for permission whenever I wanted to go out, and when he died, I have to ask my children.

No longer used to driving long distances, it took awhile to get to Alfonso in the rain. It was dark when we arrived. I had agreed to have dinner with a friend in Tagaytay, so I left right away. Jeovanie was worried as it was dark and raining and I was alone, but I told him I would be all right.   I promised to text when I headed back so he could open the gate.

Arriving at Bag of Beans, I was surprised to find it full of guests.   The main dining area was welcoming, brightly lit and warm, but quite noisy. Looking for a quiet corner where I could write while waiting for my friend, the waiter led me to a lone table outside, and I took that. I was not sure if she would show up, and I was pretty hungry by this time, so I ordered soup and started to write.

Challenge taken. Solo at Bag of Beans.
Challenge taken. Solo at Bag of Beans.

And just for posterity, I asked the waiter to take my photo so I could post it on Instagram, as a response to a challenge made to eat alone in a restaurant.  I actually enjoyed the solo experience. No one bothered me, and I was able to concentrate on writing.  To top it all, the broccoli soup with warm bread was delicious and filling on a cold, wet night.   Soon my friend showed up, and as usual, our lively conversation ran the gamut of family, friendships, pets, work, and current events.

As BoB was about to close, we paid the bill and left.  On the way out, she teased me about bringing my laptop as a clutch to the restaurant, saying I was not really alone.  Baby steps, I told her.  My friend insisted on driving tag to make sure I got back safely to my farm. I was thankful for this kind gesture as the fog was thick enough to slice in Tagaytay, and I could hardly see, and in Alfonso, the provincial road was very dark and wet.  Knowing she was driving behind me made me feel safer, like having a guardian angel behind the wheel.

Back in Alfonso, I looked up at the sky and there was nary a star in the dark sky. Normally, I would look up and enjoy the stars twinkling like diamonds as I walked the long red brick road to our house. This time they were hidden behind the heavy dark clouds.

Snuggling into my bed, I prayed with my wooden holding cross in hand, a Christmas gift from a dear friend. The cross fit snugly in the palm of my hand, calming me down. I asked the Lord to watch over my children, my family and friends and keep them safe. I am usually not scared of being alone in the farm, but another talk this week about malicious spirits and exorcism which I had with another friend, played havoc on my mind. I woke up early this morning, still holding on to it.

The fierce rustling of the leaves outside my window warned me the weather was still cross. Nevertheless, I put on my bright yellow parka to tour the farm. IMG_8478Hugging the tree beside the house, which had the first station of the cross, I whispered an “I love you” to Mike, remembering all the lovely memories of time spent in the farm with him. There was a big butterfly with pink-tipped wings that stayed in the veranda the whole morning I was in Alfonso, as if loath to leave.  ‘Twas Mike, I believe, keeping me company.

IMG_8448Walking around the farm, I once again marveled at the awesome beauty of God’s creation.  Everywhere I looked, it was lush and green. I was worried that the wind had toppled over some trees, but luckily they had held their ground, though some were bent over slightly. The stepping-stones were covered in moss, reminding me I had not visited in awhile.

I saw fallen mangoes on the ground forming a carpet under the trees, and spied some green santol that had suffered the same fate. Ah, santol season has come! I asked our caretaker to pack some for me to bring home to Southbay. IMG_8439Near the gate, the champaca tree was in full bloom, its fragrance wafting through the air. Herb seedlings nestled in the rudimentary nursery.

Walking by the caretaker’s cottage, I didn’t notice the chickens nesting in the trees.  Suddenly, a flurry of cackles and feathers greeted me. I don’t know who was more surprised, the chickens or me, but I was ready to run away.

IMG_8472After a hearty breakfast and some writing on the veranda, I drove to town to hear 9am mass with Bleng and her children.  I was pleased when the parish priest introduced the parish youth leaders. There were so many of them! The church was packed full with the faithful, with latecomers forced to stand at the back.

Back at the farm, we packed ready for the long drive back to Manila. I would have stayed longer except my girls and I agreed to have lunch together.  And the spotty Internet connection was unnerving. It was a very short visit made on a whim, but well worth the trip.  I’m looking forward to the next one.  I wonder who I can cajole to come with me next time?

Childhood, Children, Church, Faith, Family, God, Life, Love, Uncategorized

Skipping Holy Week

April 2, 3015. Here we are at NAIA 2, waiting at Centennial Airport. We woke up at 2am to make it in time for our 5am PAL flight to Cebu. Checking in was a breeze, a delightful surprise since we thought there would be a mad rush at the airport because of the long weekend.

It’s Holy Thursday. For the past 13 years, I’ve spent the Holy Week in Manila, serving as a lector in our parish. This time around, however, my daughters decided that we should all go on a fam trip to Moalboal. So here we are, Dada (my mom), Bea, Cara, Niccolo and me, off to a new adventure. My thoughts wander over to the church activities I would miss.

The Paschal Triduum, or the three days from Thursday morning to just before Easter Sunday is the busiest time for servant leaders. All the church bells are silenced, votive candles extinguished, and images of saints and the crucifix are removed or hidden behind violet cloth. The Paschal Triduum begins with Chrism Mass early Thursday morning when the Holy Oils are blessed and all the priests of the diocese renew their vow. After Chrism mass, it is customary for parishioners to have breakfast with their parish priest to show their gratitude and love for him. Later that day, we would celebrate the Mass of the Last Supper where priests go down on their knees to wash the feet of parishioners. This commemorates Christ’s actions on the night before he died, when he washed the feet of his 12 apostles, in so doing teaching them humility and servant leadership.

When I was a little girl attending mass at San Sebastian, I watched the Spanish parish priest wash the feet of 12 fellow priests, and wondered why. Are their feet dirty? Later, as the church became more inclusive and priests scarcer, common parishioners took on the role of the apostles. When we first moved to Southbay, our family was chosen as one of those to be washed. It took some convincing for Mike to agree, but Niccolo was excited to have his feet washed.

After the Mass of the Last Supper, we would do the Bisita Iglesia, a Catholic tradition of visiting seven churches and praying the Stations of the Cross, ending with spending time at the Altar of Repose to keep the Lord company in His time of agony. We always enjoyed this time, choosing which seven churches to go to and comparing the different altars of repose they put up.

At dawn on Friday, we would have the Community Way of the Cross, walking through the different Basic Ecclesial Communities (BECs) of the Ascension of Our Lord Parish, from Villonco to Southbay to Waterfun, Estrada 1 & 2, Aratiles, Mangga, Silangan, then Goodwill. When we first did this about ten years ago, I was a bit worried having to walk and pray in the developing communities, then genuflecting on the dirty streets, beside dogs and chickens. But this also opened my eyes to the circumstances of how other people lived, and I became more thankful of our many blessings, and also more open and understanding of the people around me.

At 3pm, we would have the Veneration of the Cross, the symbol of Christ’s suffering and love for us. We used to call this rite the Seven Last Words. This is a solemn rite where we relive the last hours of Christ’s passion and death on the cross. When the priest enters the church with the cross, stops three times and unveils it partially, he sings a biblical phrase. Fr. Didoy Molina, our beloved parish priest then, was absent when God gave the gift of beautiful voices, so when he attempted to sing, we all cracked up and started giggling.

There is no more consecration of the bread and wine at the mass that follows, but we would partake of communion with hosts blessed the night before during the Last Supper rites. We would then go home, but some of us would stay and keep the image of the Cristo Muerto company.

Black Friday, as we call the day that Christ died, is supposed to be a day of fasting, quiet and reflection on this passion and death. I still recall a time, I must have been three or four years old then, when Pepito and I were playing rowdily by the avocado tree in the backyard. Our mom came out and roundly spanked and scolded us to keep quiet. “Don’t you know that Jesus Christ is dead?,” she screamed at us in Spanish. We kept quiet, wondering who this Jesus Christ was and why he died. To a young child, the concept of death is difficult to grasp, more so when it is someone we don’t know.

Black Saturday is still supposed to be hush hush but come night, we would have a grand celebration as we celebrate Easter, or the resurrection of Jesus Christ. In our parish, we would congregate in the pitch black court outside the church.  The bonfire is lighted and the priest would bless and light the Paschal Candle, saying “You are the alpha and the omega.” These words never fail to touch me, and bring home the message that God is our all in all, the beginning and the end, our Creator, the Almighty to whom we owe everything. And once again, I would be humbled as I am reminded of my nothingness and yet the grandness that God loves me and holds me in the palm of His hand.

The Easter Vigil mass is long and dramatic. It begins with us entering the dark church following the priest holding up the lighted candle. We listen to several readings followed by Psalms which are sung. The readings begin with Genesis, the story of creation, to when Abraham willingly follows the Lord’s command to sacrifice his only son Isaac to God.  He is about to kill his son when he is stopped by an angel and told that God has blessed him for showing his faithfulness to the Lord. God then makes His solemn promise to bless Abraham with descendants more numerous than the stars of the sky or the sands along the beach, descendants who will be a blessing to all nations. The readings proceed to Exodus, or the triumphant flight from Egypt when the Israelites under the leadership of Moses and the guidance and protection of God cross the Red Sea and all of the pursuing Pharaoh’s chariots and charioteers are drowned.

I am usually assigned to read one of these first readings as they are the longest and most dramatic. But it is the second one I love the most.   I put myself in Abraham’s shoes, and wonder if I would be as obedient as him. Imagine being told to kill your only son, the beloved son of your old age, and to offer him as a sacrifice to God. Give up Bea, or Cara or Niccolo? Arghhh! And yet, this is exactly what God did: send His only son, Jesus Christ to live and die on the cross to save us from our sins.

The following readings from Isaiah, Baruch and Ezekiel chronicle God’s faithfullness over the centuries to His covenant to take care of His people. We then have the Epistle and the readings from the Gospel. I love it when we sing the Gloria with all of the lights turned on, as we wave our white flags and ring our bells. Oh, what a glorious time it is as we rejoice that the Lord has risen!

The next day we would have the Easter Egg Hunt in our village. When my children were young, they would join the other children in the village and see who could collect the most eggs, especially the prized Gold and Silver eggs.  Similarly, when we were young, my siblings and I would also go Easter Egg hunting in our yard. What fond memories Easter brings!

Oh, I will miss all of these rituals this Holy Week, but then I will be with my children and my mom. It is high time we have some family bonding. The children are grown up and soon they would have their own families. I hope and pray that we would still be able to celebrate Easter together in the years to come.

 

 

 

 

Church, Corporate Social Responsibility, Faith, Friendship, Love, Work

Giving back, gaining more

August 1, 2014.  Every last Wednesday of the month, TeamAsia stops work for an hour to celebrate staff birthdays and company achievements, break bread (well, mostly pizza and cupcakes), welcome new staff (who gamely butt spell their names), bid adieu to those who move on, play games, sing and dance sometimes, and generally have loads of fun together.  Called Pop Up Wednesdays, this tradition was started by Bea a year ago when she came back from her studies in Boston to a company grieving the loss of its founder, her dad.  Bea’s arrival was a breath of fresh air, full of sunshine and sparkles, and she quickly formed a team from different departments tasked to be as creative as they can be to come up with a fresh theme each month.

Themes vary depending on the times.  We’ve had Zen (loved the shoulder and foot massages), Frozen (icy games), Glaze (hot choco and donuts), Blockbusters (challenging games), Soirees (getting to know you better), Filipiniana (tested our native tongue), TAkot 2013 (Halloween spooktivities that had the entire office transformed into the stuff of nightmares), Chinese New Year, and more.  Pop Up Wednesdays was a date each month where we tucked away the stress of everyday work life and client deadlines to just talk to each other and reconnect as family.  For a sneak peak into our Pop Up Wednesdays, check out this link, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGBM2H0C4aE.

July 2014Today’s Pop Up was different. July is Corporate Social Responsibility Month, and we wanted to give back to our local community.  Because of the busy week, we moved Pop Up to a Friday afternoon, and went offsite to Haven for Children along Zapote Road.  Haven for Children is a center for male street children aged 7-13 years who are recovering from substance abuse like rugby and marijuana.  Some are addicted to alcohol and smoking.  We were warned not to take frontal photos as some of them have taken refuge there to escape from fraternities and gangs, and to watch out for our things.

My heart sank as I learned from some of the boys that they had been abandoned by their parents, beaten black and blue by barangay tanods who caught them stealing or sniffing, survived on the streets foraging leftovers from garbage disposals or begging for food.  By a twist of fate, this could have been me or my children, I thought.

The initial aloofness was soon dispelled when we began playing our games.  Grouped into six teams with ate and kuya TeamAsians as game masters, the boys enacted values like pagiging matulungin (helpfulness), pag-aalaga ng kalikasan (concern for the environment), pagpapakita ng respeto sa kapwa (showing respecting for others), and pagiging madasalin (being prayerful). Each tableau was unique and I was struck that the boys were more inclusive than most adults, showing prayer in different religions: Catholic, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, and in different situations: at home, at church, during calamities and celebrations.  It was difficult to judge the groups; I wanted to hug each and every child and congratulate them.

The hare, wall and archer game (big brother version of paper, scissors and stone) had everyone whooping, cheering, and jumping as they competed with each other.  The hula hoop relay challenged the children’s physical agility, and boy, were they fast!  Tired and spent after the games, TeamAsians and their young wards happily munched on the burgers, fries and soda we brought.  The children then wanted to dance and sing for us, impromptu, to show their appreciation.  They wanted to go on and on, but it was getting late, and sadly we had to leave.  As we walked back to the cars, the kids made “mano,” hugged, and high-fived us.  “Balik kayo, ha?  Promise?,” a little child asked.  I nodded, my heart in my throat.  One of the boys ran after our senior graphic designer and handed her a rosary as a gift.

One of the “nanays” (social workers) observed that the children have never been as noisy and happy as this afternoon’s outreach, although there have been several groups that have visited. “Iba kayo,” she said, “talagang masaya.” Truth to tell, Pop Up Wednesdays have always been noisy and happy, but today was so much more.  It was fulfilling.  We thought we were giving back, but instead, we were the ones who gained, hearts bursting with happiness, in full measure.

The words of Luke 6:38 ring true: “Give, and it will be given to you. A good portion—packed down, firmly shaken, and overflowing—will fall into your lap. The portion you give will determine the portion you receive in return.”

We definitely will be returning.

Accountability, Church, Faith, Governance, Principles, Transparency

A Controversy Like No Other

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July 23, 2014.  Bishop Jesse Mercado was slated to pay a Pastoral Visit to the Ascension of Our Lord Parish at 5pm.  He was to say mass at one of the developing areas and then proceed to the parish for a fellowship and meeting with the parish leaders.  The parish leaders and Fr. Joseph Landero have been preparing for the visit for three weeks. I was asked to emcee the meeting and to help our parish secretary with the PowerPoint Presentation of parish plans during the meeting.

Truth to tell, I was hesitant about even showing up, not knowing how I would be able to handle the visit.  The first time I encountered a Pastoral Visit was in 2008, when I was president of the Parish Pastoral Council with Fr. Didoy Molina as our parish priest. Together with the other leaders, we prepared documentation of our parish activities, achievements, financial report, and plans which we presented in a Parish Covenant Book to the Bishop.  Full of fervor to serve the church, we were so happy when the Bishop congratulated us, saying The Ascension of Our Lord Parish may be a small one but it was an excellent example of a God-filled ecclesial community.

The last pastoral visit was in 2010.  By then, I had finished my term as president of the PPC and was now just a member of the Parish Planning Board.  But still, the fervor was there and we were again congratulated roundly.

This visit though was different.  This was the first time the Bishop was coming to visit after the heated controversy that took the Diocese of Paranaque by storm in 2012, spurring concerned parish leaders and parishioners to question the way the diocese was being managed on issues of governance, transparency and accountability.  The controversy landed in national news and was covered in a chapter in the book, Altar of Secrets.  The Lay Initiative for Transparency and Accountability (LAITY) was established, as the laity pushed for reform, communicating with church leaders, even as far the Vatican.

For being one of those who voiced out our concerns, I was criticized roundly and made a target during parish sermons. The other parish leaders were also treated the same way, eased out of their parish pastoral councils, and some even were not renewed as lectors and ministers of the Holy Eucharist. The priests who had stood up against the bishop were removed from their positions, and assigned to hardship posts.

The controversy cut the community deeply as parishioners all over the diocese took sides.  My daughter withdrew from being a lector, and my son from being an altar server.  Niccolo could not bear hearing his mother lambasted in church.  Mike stopped going to church, and ordered me to stop tithing until we were sure that the monies collected went to their intended beneficiaries.  Pretty soon, I was all alone going to mass, still serving as a lector but hurting nevertheless.  I reminded myself that it was God I was serving and not the church leadership.  And then Mike took ill, and I withdrew from attending LAITY meetings to focus on taking care of him.  I agonized over what had befallen our family for having stood up on my principles.  Did God take Mike away because of this?

On Pentecost Day during mass, Fr. JoLan announced that the bishop had been cleared by the Nuncio of all wrongdoing in a report.  I asked my circle of priest friends if they had seen the report.  None had. I wanted to ask for a copy of that report, as the LAITY as well as concerned priests had met with the Nuncio several times regarding the situation, asking for an answer to our questions.  Such a report would put the matter finally to rest, I thought and would be a first step towards healing the rift.

The day before the pastoral visit, I called Chris, our parish secretary to ask for a copy of the Parish Covenant Book on which the presentation was to be based.  Chris said he was still working on it, but would email it first thing in the morning.  I woke up at 5am that day, ready to work on the prezo, but it had not come in.  With back to back meetings all day, it was not until the afternoon that I realized that I still had not received the promised email.  So, at 5pm on that rainy afternoon, I went to the parish to work on it, but not before first passing by the new adoration chapel.  As I knelt in the still chapel, I prayed for guidance, discernment, patience, forgiveness and understanding.  Let Your Will be done, Oh Lord, I prayed.

At the bahay pari, I learned that Chris was still at work and had not finished putting together the Parish Covenant Book.  I asked him to email what he had finished so far.  Instead, I got the individual reports of the various commissions which were in different formats.  As I rushed to compile these into a coherent presentation, I heard the Bishop and the priests arrive.  I stood up and greeted the Bishop, who extended his condolences on Mike’s passing.  I was surprised that he had known.  Perhaps Fr. JoLan had told him.

The dinner and the meeting went smoothly.  I was itching to grill the Bishop regarding the controversy and the Nuncio report that Fr. JoLan had talked about, but did not want to embarrass the council and Fr. JoLan, and so I kept quiet. Doing so would only make matters worse, I thought. No questions were asked during the open forum.  It was only later I found out that they had been told not to ask questions.  Oh, well!

As we left the room, I went up to the Bishop and asked him why he still had not given Fr. Didoy a parish.  After all, the Bishop had told me that he would do this a year ago.  The Bishop said it was because Fr. Didoy would not see him. What if I arranged the meeting, I asked him.  Would you talk to him as Christ did his disciples?  He gave me his mobile number and said yes.

Will need to storm the heavens with prayers to make this work.