Joy

HOW DO YOU filter intense happiness?

On my way out, I was already at the corner of Nepomuceno when I remembered I didn’t have my ID on me. So I about-faced and followed the instinct. But fought against it out of a stubborn excuse that it was already on two of the xeroxed documents in my sling bag. I therefore turned around again and proceeded.

I was certain the Jesus Prayer will take care of me. 

At the queue, I stood for only a few minutes along with the other elderlies; the batch of 25 (I was there some weeks back on the wrong impression that there was being offered free acupuncture in that area; a separate anecdote on this later) rose from their seats and we assumed the vacancies. It didn’t take long for us to rise ourselves and proceed to enter the hallowed premises of the DSWD office. We were stamped before we boarded the escalator to the second floor, where another huge mass of people waited to be served (there was a stairway to the third flow where my seatmate at the releasing line said “important” people went there to be processed). The white-shirted employee bade us occupy the vacant front seats. We quickly obeyed. He asked for our IDs, I said I didn’t have mine. He said I might not get the release of my ayuda but accepted the photocopy that I handed him. Hope stuck with me. Minutes later, he returned it with the attached note having the number A-339. I’m entered into their system! (This brief euphoria would not last and make me regret my stubbornness.) Minutes later, the same employee told us to transfer to another area of the floor where another throng waited for their names and numbers and tables to appear on the huge monitor in front of them. We were soon among the throng. I saw three fellow lectors/commentators seated near the front and I approached them for a brief ‘hi-hello’ then went back to where I was seated to wait out the procedure. To DSWD’s credit, I gave their efficiency a 10.

My confidence was intact. I’ll make it through. And kept at the prayer.

At a little past 10 am, I saw my number flashed on the screen; I got up and proceeded to table number 6, where Ms. Jocielle Castillo was behind a laptop similar to the other line of tables beside the seated throng. Her nickname was pasted on the back of her laptop so I ventured to use it and was rewarded with a smile. She shared the male employee’s concern that I didn’t have a valid ID and that might get in the way of my receiving an ayuda. And I subscribed to the double dread when she said that banks demand it so I should have it on my person always; she made sense (she ought to, her nickname was Sel). I didn’t repeat what I told her male colleague that I often lose things is why I left it at home (bad, nice try). But what I told her was worse: my wife borrowed it for her Philhealth need.

I was learning a lesson. And apologized to Jesus for my hardheadedness.

Anyway, Ms. Sel was so nice and kept smiling as she processed my papers and asked questions fewer than Ate Leony warned me about. Like, where does my son and wife work and what were their salaries, which she didn’t mind, that I had no answers to the salary part. She said they close at 4 pm so I left her a similar smile and went on my way back home. Fortunately for me, it was only a matter of taking the foot bridge again and two tricycles to get there. And a bonus of a lunch better than my earlier plan of buying from the sidewalk woman vendor. I didn’t even get to drink my water.

My prayer went louder.

I even had the blessing of closely knowing the Chief Security Officer (Nato) whom I called for a tricycle back to Petron. Better than daylight saving time, I was back at DSWD in no time at all.

Ms. Sel gave me her usual sweet smile and asked me to sit. She quickly processed my papers again and, when she finished, gave me back a form that had my number stapled on a small form and instructed me to wait at another set of chairs for my number to appear again on a small monitor. She even told me the amount I was going to receive. More than what Ate Leony (my friend and sponsor to the Crisis Intervention Program) accepted. Almost heaven, I repeated the Jesus Prayer more than over and over again.

It was a little after 2 pm when my number flashed on the screen. Enough for a chat with the cancer survivor who came all the way from Antipolo. And offered me the aromatic peanuts she was munching on which I did not refuse. It took less than a little to acknowledge the receipt of the ayuda. I took an appreciative note of the fact that, contrary to what most of the receivers before me reported, their release took longer.

I returned to where Ms. Sel was and called her name. When she looked up from her computer, I uttered “God bless you!” She confirmed my receipt of the release and was happy about it. I have never been happier.

My mind was on my benefactress when I hailed a jeepney to Fairview, alighted on COA, and walked the distance to their house on San Simon. I kept the promise I gave to her and husband Kuya Nato, when the latter and I served at San Jose, ang Tagapagtanggol Parish yesterday, he as a lay minister, me as lector.

We saw Ate Star from the veranda where we were. Ate Leony was earlier bragging about the pot of Oregano at our feet that came from the former and said she has it in abundance in her small garden in their house just a stone’s throw away from them. We left Kuya Nato and joined Ate Star to claim my plant. It was there that I bade them both farewell. Ate Star proceeded to the parish to serve; Ate Leony rejoined Kuya Nato in their love nest. And I walked back to where I started.

Upon reaching home, I gave Andrea, our good and diligent and reliable Kasambahay, a token of my happiness. And praise, honor, and thanksgiving to Whom the wherewithal emanated.