Preparing

UNTIL I HEARD Sis Josie (de Jesus) say she is no longer afraid to die, I thought I was not ready to meet my Maker any time soon. Her reason was that she saw her husband smile, for the first time ever since he was bed- and pain-bedridden, seconds before he gasped his last. What she said struck me dumb. This happened in September, during the Marian Exhibit, while we Legionaries were assembled in Spiritus Hall for the 10 am Rosary. While waiting to start, and the others to arrive, we shared pleasantries, most of them coming from her, she who had an obvious gift of gab, and a load of life lessons at that. It was not difficult to relate to her.

Before that, and long before I was hospitalized for almost a month, it never crossed my mind to seriously consider death. I could not have cared less. But here was a woman more senior than me, a survivor of two Cs and other illnesses, who recently braved the trillion peso march (albeit in a wheelchair, while I chickened out because of a urinary problem), professing to all and sundry her courage and preparedness for the end. She made me stop my small neuropathic steps, rethank my being a Legionary, rethink my prayer life, and start preparing for the same time she faces the Grim Reaper with the same smile her husband dealt him with. I felt the same strength she must have mustered when he smiled to her his last.

There is not much. I have no property. Which is a relief for me and, I imagine, rancor for my wife and sons. Therefore, the only preparation necessary are arrangements for when I do kick the bucket (I shall have to go over my Last Will), and reinforcing my prayer life, and service to the Lord, and the times when I examine my conscience in the stillness of the night, when I cannot hear even my breathing, so that He can speak His silence to me, and I can renew my life in accordance with His will. While there is time. With the prayer that every effort I make is ethical. A prayer that is as constant as the gratitude I profess every waking moment, and hopefully worthy before I close my eyes to the world for the last time.

As regards my Last Will, I remember I drafted one that designated Kuya Noel (Tamase) as my executor and UtoLiza (Infante) as overseer of my wake. This is not to restrict my family (Myrna, my wife, and sons Alexis and Aesop) from making arrangements appurtenant to my funeral but, rather, to spare them the trouble of providing any relief for me for the last time, in appreciation of all the difficulties I caused them when I was alive, especially during my periods of illness and hospitalization. Kuya Noel and Ate Liza agreed like it was my last request already.

Although there are many things and times I am grateful for as I live. Most recent of which was when I was with my fellow Legionaries at the wake of Sis Tes’ brother Marlone, The priest who presided the funereal Mass mentioned in his homily a Tagalog term which described Marlone’s leaving, “sumakabilang buhay,” a phrase I never took seriously until that very moment I heard him say it. And I quickly thought how fortunate for him that he was already on his way to eternal life, while we, his sister and kins and friends, are still on earth, fending for ourselves, anxious and not knowing when our end will be, and how to be ready for it.

Which brings me to when I first considered delving into community life, when I had zero knowledge of what constituted BF Homes. When I didn’t know too many people, and was not aware of their advocacies much less, and could not care a whit. But Kuya Noel broached the idea to why not squeeze myself into their collective a little and, maybe, just maybe, dabble in the attempt to revive the old village newsletter and give it a fresh sheen, SINAG being its name. I agreed that it might be good idea so I jumped in.

This was when the flurry of activities was getting my attention and spearheading the hysteria was a man I only heard of recently. He was an ex-PMAer, a former Number 3 PNP Leader, and presently able to make a decent following of homeowners who believe in his endorsements of pursuits that will bring residents together into one active, productive organization working towards united, like-minded goals.

Meanwhile, in Church, Fr. Eidh (short for his name Adrian) hit the ground running where his infectious zeal took him and his avid Holy Spirit parishioners along. Instantly, the Parish Pastoral Council saw this and did not need an arm-twisting. Within a month, he increased the membership of all ministries, refurbished the Adoration Chapel, and upped the Balik-Handog collection to unprecedented highs.

Small reason why I wriggled out of my sickbed and, as soon as I was able, resumed my choir role, attendance in Legion meetings, and lectored/commentated at Masses in San Jose ang Tagapagtanggol Parish.

I recently attended the Taizé mode of praying organized by Ate Janice (de Guzman). It is a nostalgic take on the program launched by Fr. Jigs (Rosalinda) many years ago. Fresh from a trip in France, he introduced it to the parish community specifically targeting the youth to be in communion with God through community prayer, song, silence, personal reflection, and sharing. Ate Nice’s personal commitment to the project is traced to her involvement in Prayer and Life Workshop (PLW), a methodical and novel approach to prayer founded by Fr. Ignacio Larranaga in Chile in 1984. His mission has expanded to more than 40 countries (the Philippines included) where thousands of people pray daily in various ways as a personal relationship with the Lord. Ate Nice is still very much into it, conducting silent sessions every Tuesday night. She is actively supported by the husband-and-wife team of Ate Mila and Kuya Domeng (Mendoza).

Taizé, on the other hand, is another invitation to step back from daily life and meet a wide variety of people and consider a commitment to the Church and society.

I recently flipped open the pages of “I Believe,” a book I picked up from the shelves of Claret Bookstore, and got stuck on page 110, Chapter 13.4 Life everlasting. Let me share why.

“To live with God, to live fully and for ever, to be the person that God always intended us to be when He first called us by our name, to live – not in everlasting rest but in unimaginable fullness, totally freed from all fear – even fear of our own weakness… Who can begin to imagine how such a life will be?

Saint Augustine, one of the great Fathers of the Church, once wrote: Then we will be free and will see, will see and will love, will love and will praise. See, in the end, it will be without end.

The prophets of Israel, and Saint John, the author of the Book of Revelation and Christian prophet of the end times, speak to us in images of how this new life will be for us. These prophets speak of heaven not as some unimaginable place, far above the clouds, but rather as a place where God dwells, where we shall live with Him as His own people. The old sin-soaked world, sullied by men, has passed away and a new earth has become our home – the kind of earth that God has always willed and planned for us from the beginning, lit up by the light of the risen Christ. A world where human beings, His own people, live with Him and are filled with joy at the sight of His face, for He is their Light and their Life. That is why there will be no more need of sun or moon. And in the new Jerusalem there will be no longer houses built of stone, no temple where we will go to find God. For God Himself will be there, living among us.

A new and fertile earth described by numerous images in the Bible – a place where springs of water well up in the desert, where trees flourish and bear fruit twelve times a year a world where no living creature will harm another, where the lamb lies down beside the wolf, for they can now live without the one preying on the other. The little child will put his hand in the viper’s nest and not be bitten (Is 11:6-8).

Men will experience at last what it is to be fully and perfectly human. There will be no sickness, no death, no loneliness, no mourning, no tears, no hatred, no enmity, no oppression.

Other images again describe this world to us, for it is impossible to describe it in all its fullness. The eyes of the blind will be opened, the deaf will hear again, cripples will dance and the dumb will sing (Is 35:5-6). Spears and swords will not be needed, they will be beaten into ploughshares and pruning hooks and men will no longer think of war. Every man will be able to sit in peace beneath his vine or his fig tree, and no one will cause him to fear (Mic 4:3-4). God Himself, with tender hand, will wipe away the tears of those who have wept. Yes, indeed, the old world has passed away.

They will see His face and His name will be written on their foreheads. Revelation 22:4.”

Meanwhile, I always look forward to Ate Rose (Funa’s) message as regards the transfer of the Block Rosary image of Mary. And the prospect of meeting new and old faces of homeowners who appreciate the visit of the Blessed Virgin. Some even join us in the procession from their home to the next house. And, when we get there, exchange pleasantries with their neighbor. And get to know each other.

And the bonus of Ate Rose treating me to a breakfast/snack at McDo. Aside from her many other goodnesses.

I appreciated Sis Ana Marie (Fondevilla) when she sent me a message about the significance of a sixth decade of the rosary for the poor souls in purgatory. I have a separate list of souls I pray for nightly but this recent discovery assured them a guaranteed place in my prayers.

Padre Pio also has a special place for one Hail Mary in his prayer life. In one of Sis Ana’s posts, I read that Padre Pio prayed it constantly, while walking, hearing confessions, while resting in pain, while bleeding. The prayer was not just words, it was an act of having his heart to the Mother of God. Every Hail Mary is a kiss planted on the hands of our Lady, every one which she doesn’t keep for herself but hands over to Jesus. I quickly recalled my similar inclination: when exercising, walking after eating, and simply subconsciously doing it.

But back to the saint of Pietrelcina. The real mystery began one evening when he was in the chapel praying before the Blessed Sacrament. According to one of the friars, his face suddenly changed, he grew pale, his eyes filled with tears, and he looked into an empty corner of the chapel as if someone was there. The friar approached him afterward and asked quietly what he saw. Padre Pio answered, “a soul from purgatory.” He paused, took a breath, and then said something the friar would never forget, “He came to thank me for a simple Hail Mary I offered long ago which he had forgotten but heaven had not. He remembered that he had whispered the Hail Mary while walking in the courtyard as a simple impulse of charity.

This made me think back to my prayers for my family during vespers. And one day, while I was waiting to be called by a Malvar Hospital doctor to inform me of the result of my ultrasound. While our Kasambahay was out buying snacks for us, I sidled up to my wife and asked for forgiveness for the many times I have broken her heart due to my neglect and waywardness. She responded that she has forgiven me long before this low moment in my life happened. And she has ever since supported my need for maintenance medicines, asking every now and then if I am not running out of them.

There’s also Alex bringing home miswa for my dinner and wheat (not forbidden white) bread and peanut butter, his favorite spread, which I never fancied but recently took to liking.

And Aesop asking if I am no longer in pain and what can he do for me.

My erstwhile Basic Ecclesial Community (BEC) mates, UtoLiza, Ate Myla, Ate Ela, Ate Emma, Sis Irene, and Ate Letty, for sharing their insights on the Word of God every week while the activity lasted.

The periodic Parish Renewal Experience (PREX) Encounter, which finds me singing and dancing with the Music Ministers in animation of the seminar’s lively repertoire.

Sunday 9 am Mass at San Jose ang Tagapagtanggol Parish, where I am Lector/Commentator. Seeing Ate Ofel (an LBS classmate) in the first pew.

The same Sunday 4:30 pm Mass with the Pneuma Choir of the de Guzman Family with Ates Icon and Nikka and Kuya Ephraim.

Visiting the SAD (sick, aged, angry, and disabled) among us with Ate Mila and UtoLiza and Ate Techie and Bing. And learning lessons from their (coping with) loneliness.

Visiting the homes of villagers to inquire if they have children who are interested to serve the church and giving them a copy of the church gazette, The Paraclete.

My One STG Band family. With whom I shared music and liquid moments.

My flippant resolves to break my old habit of imbibing with them and other friends every chance I get, the main cause of my confinement, which is now brought to a determined, recent stop.

Keeping my Sunday vigil at the Adoration Chapel before the 4:30 pm Choir.

Renewing our Totus Tuus vows to the Mother of God in the yearly March Acies of the Legion of Mary.

Thursday Liturgical Bible Study (LBS) via zoom, of which I am a recent (and probably will hold on as) member. In hopes (and prayer) that Ate Mimee’s husband Kuya Bert soon joins us.

The Marian Exhibit of the various images of the BVM, vowed to be a sacred, yearly tradition.

The traditional 2000 Hail Marys to culminate the exhibit.

The Family Living Rosary held twice a year in church.

The line of Kasambahays we have lived with from Letty, Emma, Janet, Lorna, Delia, Mean, Weng, Joy, and Annabelle.

My remaining brother Sunny, whose dilapidated house hangs in a delicate balance but does not daunt his faith that God helps those in dire need. And his loving wife Marie, whose love and devotion for him has weathered many storms.

My nightly novena to my patron and advocate St. Joseph, rosary for Mary, and Chaplet to the Divine Mercy (a gift from Ate Amy).

Surely, I will miss all the foregoing when I am no more. I am not certain whether I will keep their memory when I pass. As I am confident that I am doing this while I still can. Because believing is celebrating. And remembering.

Amen.