The third and last time I attended the Malasa Apostolate is during their family day. It was raining the whole day. Vis-avis the heaven down pour of rain water in that mountainous barrio is the out-pouring of love and generosity of the brothers to these people of God, to this community. But in truth, it was us who experienced love, of being loved, by God and by the simple folks of Malasa. We went there bringing food, gifts, prepared programs and a generous hearts ready to be emptied for them. We went home with empty food pans, empty containers, but never an empty heart. It was filled with love, a reciprocated love coming from our nanays, tatays, kuyas, and ates in Malasa.
In the course of the day’s activity, I was tasked to give a brief input about confession. This proved to be more challenging than the one I had before, here in Malasa. I was assigned to deliver it before children in their early teenage life. Most of them were in their 14th year. Though I spoke in Kapampangan, I found myself grasping for simple words that would help these children to comprehend what confession means. I made use of the image of their mothers washing their dirty clothes, comparing the former with God and Mother Church, and the latter with us who had been stained with sins. I thought it would be fitting to end my sharing with the children about the great love of God for each one of us: love that is beyond measure, love that knows to limit, love that is self-diffusive, that is the love of God. On that part, it came to me, that they did not experience difficulty in understanding such love. No questions were asked. Their faces were not filled with void and antipathy. I thought there was clarity in them about this conclusion, about love. Perhaps it is because, love is what they have been experiencing throughout their lives. In the simplicity and unsophisticated way of life, they found the greatest of all. That is love, love of God made present by the brothers. Love of God made present by the members of their community. Love of God made present by God Himself in their very own lives.
We arrived in UST, almost past six in the evening. The flood water subsided. Things seemed to be back to normal after the heaven rain that morning. But the out pouring of love I experienced in Malasa insist to exist within. Indeed, after my Malasa apostolate days, something had changed within. And I have never been the same again.
No comments:
Post a Comment