active listening

I have a favorite parochial vicar at my favorite church in Malate supervised by the Columbans. His name is Fr. Michael Martin, a true-blooded Irish full of joy and expresses much of himself in Tagalog.

While waiting for Fr. Martin to say the evening mass last Saturday (and it turned out he wasn't there to celebrate it), I quietly thought of what I wanted that very moment.

Nothing, I pondered. At least, not for me.

The Malate Church can have such an enormous selfless effect on me. Here, I get to think of what God might want for me, or what He'd want me to do. The next question then is whether I'm strong and courageous enough to accept and to surrender.

Sure. There must be something that I wanted that very moment.

So, off the top of my head, I said to myself (and to the angel that guarded me):

Alright. How about if I give my seat to an old lady?

I didn't pursue the thought anymore because the priest entered to start the mass.

By the time the liturgical readings were being said, the whole rear section of the church was filled with mass-goers. There were people standing behid the last pews, near the large wooden doors. I knew this because I suddenly felt the urge to look at the crowd.

And then, I found her. The old lady who I said I would give my seat to.

She wasn't really old. The lady simply looked tired and haggard, making her aged. And the reason for this demolished posture and facial expression are the sleepy baby gurl in her arms and a plastic shopping bag she gripped in one hand.

Yea, there's my beneficiary. There's a slight problem, though. How was I to get her attention? I couldn't stand up and walk towards her because there were also people standing beside me (I sat on the edge). For sure, anyone of them would quickly occupy my seat especially once I vacate my seat. My beneficiary would have to make a crazy run for it, while I barricade these other people.

Right. I don't have a plan that doesn't involve distraction.

When it was time for everyone to rise for the Gospel, I whispered to SM and told her of my intention. I asked for her help because I wanted her to wave to the lady. Even then, I had doubts she'd be able to successfully beckon her to take my seat.

But a miracle happened. It was like the timing was perfect. SM and the lady just locked eyes. I signalled to her, stood up and waited for her to take my seat, which she did gratefully.

Now there's only one absolute real thing that manifested that night.

It's called answered prayer - perhaps both for me and for that lady and her child.

* * *

kids should know that...

Columbanus was born in Leinster, Ireland, in the year Saint Benedict died, and from childhood well instructed. He was handsome and prepossessing in appearance, this is reflected in his Irish name 'Colum Ban', which means the Fair Colum this is not, therefore, an anglicization. Young Colum's striking looks exposed him to the shameless temptations of several of his countrywomen, he also had to struggle with his own temptations. At last he went to see a religious woman, who advised him thus: "Twelve years ago I fled from the world, and shut myself up in this cell. Hast thou forgotten Samson, David and Solomon, all led astray by the love of women? There is no safety for thee, young man, except in flight." He thereupon decided to act on this advice and retire from the world. (wikipedia)