Have you ever sat under a tree and noticed gossamer silver threads on the grass glistening in the sun? Anywhere else, especially in corners, ceilings, under furniture or behind doors, these are nothing but untidy cobwebs that need clearing. Yes, this masterpiece of spiders to trap their prey reflects the brilliance of the early morning sun in such an unexpected way. I immediately took my camera (see the header) to capture so many jewels stringed in silver! I was just drawn to stare and look and listen.
How many of us are really happy for who we are? Many times I am not. If only I were… How I wish I could be more … The humble cobwebs shimmer in the breeze and tell me, “I may be unsightly to some, but it is through (not in spite of) my silken threads that I reflect light.” God knows more than anyone what I am made of. In the words of the Secret of Success, we are “very weak, incapable and inadequate in every way.” But if like cobwebs I spend some moments in the sun – in the light of Christ, I may, no matter how faint or temporary, reflect his glory shining through me.
It was this reflection that finally convinced me to re-start blogging after much hesitation and resistance. I hope this space may be an avenue to share with you God’s blessings and help me keep in touch with many friends, family and relatives whom I am rediscovering through another web – the online community.
I didn’t get the cobwebs on this one, but the dewdrop was just irresistible.
I was shocked and sad to receive the news of the death of Fr. Michael La Guardia, SDB, President and Dean of Don Bosco School of Theology. He embodied Don Bosco’s pedagogy of loving kindness, and how fortunate I and my classmates were to have sat at his feet. Fr. Mike went out of his way to give me a one-on-one philosophy tutorial so I could better comprehend the fundamentals of theology. In class, he shared his vision, his life, and his passion for philosophy and theology in a way uniquely his, personalan talaga! We would chuckle at his jokes or roar in laughter at his stories. Many times, our eyes would well up with tears when his words would stir up something deep and precious within us. As his former students say: “Parang recollection lagi sa klase.”
Thank you, Fr. Mike, for being an educator who enlightened our minds, challenged our wills, and encouraged us to open our eyes and hearts to the multiple ways God reveals himself. Thank you for showing us his compassion and care, his concern and delight in being with us. You said we cannot be not in God! You are gone from our midst, but we find comfort in your words: “I AM HOME” emblazoned on a banner in campus when you became dean. Indeed, you have shown us the face of the Father, and now you are home! Pray for us, your spiritual sons and daughters.
My deepest condolences to the family of Fr. Mike, especially his mother and sister, and to our Salesian fathers and brothers. Praying for the repose of Fr. Roger, Fr. Mike and Fr. Vic!
Sharing with you a reflection paper for Fr. Mike’s class to illustrate how the Lord used him to touch and heal his people. He encouraged me to write and to spread God’s light. Here it goes, Fr. Mike!
Images of God: Gratuity, Grandeur, and Grace
I was recalling one of the peak God experiences for the first reflection paper as the jeepney sped through the Skyway when a fresh insight moved me to tears. “Uh oh… not in a public place, my dear,” I told myself.
Lac d’Emosson, Switzerland
It was the end of spring 2003. At Lac d’Emosson, Switzerland. We took the steep funicular to reach the top, and after a few hikes were rewarded with a breathtaking vista! God’s grandeur and man’s ingenuity constructed the hydroelectric dam called Lac d’Emosson. The sheer size of the lake, the splendor of the mountains, some still covered in snow, the tiny village below, the crisp wind, the scent of the forest, the pristine edelweiss, and many more details flooded my senses, and I started to tear up. Instead of being overwhelmed, I felt one with all of it – tiny, insignificant, foreign, inadequate me – yet undeniably part of this wonderful display of God’s creation. I was one with the rocks beneath my feet and the peak of Mont Blanc ranges encompassing me.
I felt joy, but nothing similar to jubilation when you want to sing or shout or jump. It was quiet, warm, and peaceful. It was awe, and oneness with life, and being at home in God. Then the moment was gone. I was left with – “This is too much! Too beautiful! Why is God giving me such a gift? What is behind this? What will he ask for in return?” Fear has crept in.
Lac d’Emosson, Switzerland
I had gone with some sisters of the FSP Generalate community in Rome to a summer residence in the mountains of La Salle, Italy which is near the border of France and Switzerland. It was my first time, ever, to really “go on holiday.” When I asked my department head ‘What shall I do there?’ I received an exasperated reply: “Ma che stupidaggine! Cara bambina, si va in vacanza per far niente! Ti farai bene, vedrai.” (But what nonsense! My dear girl, you go on holiday to do nothing! It will do you good, you’ll see.)
For this Tondo girl, vacation meant earning a bit more by selling halu-halo, banana que, Indian mango, or whatever fruit was in season. I had to save to buy supplies for the next school year for myself and my siblings. Then, as a religious sister, it meant general house cleaning, babysitting, or visiting relatives, spending time with family while cooking and telling stories. And reading; lots and lots of it. – Doing nothing? Totally unheard of.
Images of God
One of the earliest memories I have of Jesus is a priest in flowing robes going high above the altar as he brings the Sacred Host after Benediction, while we, on our knees, sang, “No mas amor que el tuyo…” I didn’t understand the words, and when I asked what it was about, I was told it was Jesus to be kept in the tabernacle. So, I sang to him, thinking of it as a lullaby to put Jesus to sleep.
Sta. Cruz Church, Manila
We all went to church on Sundays, which was like meeting the King. You put on your best dress and best behavior. You do not talk, except to God. You don’t cross your legs or use a fan. You listen because God speaks through the priest. And we prayed the rosary at night, on our knees. One has to offer sacrifice for one’s sins. Then Jesus became real when I received him in Holy Communion, but there was not much talk about him at home. School lessons continued, but that’s about it.
I rediscovered Jesus as a Friend and Kuya in high school during a retreat. Just before graduation, my childhood desire to be a nun came back. But my father told me to study first. If I really want to, I may go after college. Not knowing what course to take, my father told me to take up chemical engineering since I was good in science and math. Dutiful daughter studied at Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila and forgot about my dream for the next four years. Challenged by the ever-growing born-again groups on campus, I rediscovered my faith in a parish evangelization and leadership seminar. In the end, the priest asked: “What next?”
Jesus became Pareng Jess, a barkada who led me to join a youth group in the parish. Though younger than most of the participants, they shared their lives and came to me for advice. I was surprised at the pain and misery, the struggles, and problems of my companions. I brought this to Jesus in prayer on the eve of the last day of the retreat; we had a one-on-one with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. There were no words from him. Just an understanding of people’s needs and how blessed I was to have been spared of it all, in spite of our poverty. I found myself saying, “Sige po, kakayanin ko, kung gusto n’yo,” not realizing what it meant.
San Jose de Trozo Parish, Sta Cruz, Manila
That was the beginning of a search for what the experience signify. I joined the parish choir, taught catechism to children, became active in the Block Rosary, went to daily Mass, and made the Holy Hour, etc. I was happy with my studies and all the activities, but still, I asked, “Is this all there is?” Pareng Jess led me ever so gently to the Daughters of St. Paul through a book. As I passed through the convent gates the first time, I felt this is where I belong!
In the convent, I came to know Jesus as Master and Shepherd, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. He is the Truth I must believe, the Way I must follow, and the Life I must live. While entering the convent was a response of “doing something for God,” I realized early on that God called me not just to do something but to be his totally. He wasn’t interested in what I can accomplish but what I can be.
Queen of Apostles Sanctuary, FSP Convent, Pasay
And so, the Master became a Lover, revealing treasures he kept hidden in my heart when all I could see was brokenness and anger and pain. When I questioned whether this was simply a silly childhood dream because everything has become meaningless, he showed, without a shadow of a doubt, that he loves me – the whole of me – and that he wants me to be his completely, exclusively, entirely.
It has been a wonderful adventure with my Beloved, marked by explorations to unknown territories within and without, experiments that stretched my limits, terrifying leaps and grey, dreary autumns, fantastic discoveries and warm quiet evenings, quarrels that lasted days and deafening silences, deaths and dying, failures and impotence, awesome miracles and deep joys, and innumerable people along the journey who each revealed a facet of his grace.
Don Bosco School of Theology Faculty and Students
The tears during the jeepney ride back home brought new insights into the Emosson experience. God was revealing himself as Father, exposing to me the grandeur of his grace in all its gratuity. I simply had to drink it all in, to my heart’s content, but I was not ready for it. I was imprisoned by my father’s concept: “There’s no such thing as a free lunch… You have to work hard for everything… Nothing of value comes easy…” Papang was never generous with praise. It was his way of egging me to become the best I can be. It is only now, five years after Papang’s death, that I am finally seeing and embracing God as Father. Maybe, that is why he has allowed me to study theology at Don Bosco. So that I may rediscover the treasures I missed because my mind and heart were not ready for it then. He sent me many fathers among the Salesian priests who mirrored the Heavenly Father’s face.
Thanks for dropping by. Sharing with you some reflections and updates of my life as a Daughter of St Paul. May you find in these words (& images) glimmers of His grace.
Sr Rose Agtarap, fsp
glistening on the grass 