Divine defense - Two

Gospel JN 15:1-8

Jesus said to his disciples:
“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower.
He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit,
and everyone that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit.
You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you.
Remain in me, as I remain in you.
Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own
unless it remains on the vine,
so neither can you unless you remain in me.
I am the vine, you are the branches.
Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit,
because without me you can do nothing.
Anyone who does not remain in me
will be thrown out like a branch and wither;
people will gather them and throw them into a fire
and they will be burned.
If you remain in me and my words remain in you,
ask for whatever you want and it will be done for you.
By this is my Father glorified,
that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.” 

source: usccb.org

John 15:1-8

New International Version (NIV)

The Vine and the Branches

15 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. 2 He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes[a] so that it will be even more fruitful. 3 You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you. 4 Remain in me, as I also remain in you.No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.

5 “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. 6 If you do not remain in me, you are like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned. 7 If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8 This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.

source: biblegateway.com

Prayer heals a sick baby

I remember a family neighbor who won gambling. From my room, one night, I heard the father shouting for winning "last two" game. Next day, I saw the mother buying groceries. A thought came on me: feeding the children of something that came from gambling? What would happen to them? Days passed and the youngest, a baby, was sick of diarrhea. They admitted the child to a government hospital every now and then without healing -- until the older boy went to my room and asked for prayers. It was a spontaneous prayer -- really from the heart because the Lord let me feel the pain of the family. Next day, the boy thanked me. His younger brother started having semi-hard stool. I told him to thank the Lord because it was the Lord Who healed his baby brother. "But it was you who prayed!" -- said the boy. Lord Jesus, thank You for those graces. I am giving back to You the glory. Amen. -Diary entry, June 7, 2008, Saturday.

(The blogger's note: Before praying, I remember I asked the boy to repeat after me the prayers of repentance I would be saying. I asked for forgiveness for all my sins and the sins of my family -- which the boy also uttered so that the boy repented for his sins and the sins of his family. And I went on with a free-flowing prayer for healing -- born out of mercy. Of course, the older boy was prompted by his mother to ask me to pray for the baby. They attributed the healing to that prayer so much so that the baby is now a boy and each time he sees me he takes my right hand for blessing. To God be the glory!)

Divine defense - One

Reading 1IS 58:7-10

Thus says the LORD:
Share your bread with the hungry,
shelter the oppressed and the homeless;
clothe the naked when you see them,
and do not turn your back on your own.
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your wound shall quickly be healed;
your vindication shall go before you,
and the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer,
you shall cry for help, and he will say: Here I am!
If you remove from your midst
oppression, false accusation and malicious speech;
if you bestow your bread on the hungry
and satisfy the afflicted;
then light shall rise for you in the darkness,
and the gloom shall become for you like midday.

Responsorial Psalm PS 112:4-5, 6-7, 8-9

R/ (4a) The just man is a light in darkness to the upright.
or:
R/ Alleluia.
Light shines through the darkness for the upright;
he is gracious and merciful and just.
Well for the man who is gracious and lends,
who conducts his affairs with justice.
R/ The just man is a light in darkness to the upright.
or:
R/ Alleluia.
He shall never be moved;
the just one shall be in everlasting remembrance.
An evil report he shall not fear;
his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD.
R/ The just man is a light in darkness to the upright.
or:
R/ Alleluia.
His heart is steadfast; he shall not fear.
Lavishly he gives to the poor;
His justice shall endure forever;
his horn shall be exalted in glory.
R/ The just man is a light in darkness to the upright.
or:
R/ Alleluia.

Reading 2 1 COR 2:1-5

When I came to you, brothers and sisters,
proclaiming the mystery of God,
I did not come with sublimity of words or of wisdom.
For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you
except Jesus Christ, and him crucified.
I came to you in weakness and fear and much trembling,
and my message and my proclamation
were not with persuasive words of wisdom,
but with a demonstration of Spirit and power,
so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom
but on the power of God.

Gospel MT 5:13-16

Jesus said to his disciples:
“You are the salt of the earth.
But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned?
It is no longer good for anything
but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.
You are the light of the world.
A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden.
Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket;
it is set on a lampstand,
where it gives light to all in the house.
Just so, your light must shine before others,
that they may see your good deeds
and glorify your heavenly Father.”

source: usccb.org

Roxas Avenue: 'Take the right road!'

Two roads make Roxas Avenue: the left road and the right road.

Going to school on foot, I always took the left road; but, one time, mother said to take the right road so she could see me as I walked my way through end of that road. Our balcony was situated in such a way that anyone sitting there could see the right road.

"OK, I will take the right road, Ma; and when I reach the end of the road, I will wave at you."

Mother, attending to my new-born baby brother (the fifth in the family), nodded.

And off I went, taking the right road -- excited, knowing mother was seeing me from behind.

Five blocks away and I reached the road's end. I stopped walking and faced back our house. Already too far away, almost blurry. I had to make the wave as promised, though; but it seemed hard to do because you cannot see the one you are waving at.

Out of faith, I did the wave from left to right and from right to left and vice versa in almost slow motion to emphasize the hand-wave so she could see it.

Did mother see it? "I will ask mother once I am home," I said to myself.

But I never had the chance to ask because family was more concerned with important things than to talk about trivialities.

Before I started my primary education, I had the chance to live in the farm house of my grandma in the mountain and they had a long, slender pathway that one, from the viewpoint of the window, could see someone coming or leaving.

This norm of seeing the coming and leaving of someone dear to one's heart was ordinary phenomenon to children in the mountain farm where they lived, especially when grandma left my mother and her siblings in the house to sell crops and vegetables in the town market.

Mother never knew but I'd watch her go via a crack on the wall every time she left me and my younger sisters locked at home to do beauty home-services for a living during my six years of age; and this changed by way of fire that broke out in the neighborhood -- but that's another story.

To end this story: Despite the minutes spent in walking, not to mention the lingering moments in those grasses along the road of Roxas Avenue, I wondered why I finished my third grade as the "most punctual" pupil in the class.

One day in your life... along old Roxas Avenue

“Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them.” -A. A. Milne

My feet were yet of a nine-year-old and trudging on a dusty, rugged road. I was in grade three and alone to walk my way to school on that innocent and lonely road of Roxas ["Raw-has"] Avenue. It was a two-way country road with a long stream in the middle. And it was a stream surrounded by tall and tiny spiky green grass growing alongside. In the tenderness of a young mind, I would stop from grass to grass and take a look and be lost at the beauty of these taken-for-granted blades. The mid endings. The hairs. The cottons. The blooms. The tiny blossoms. The bulbs. The berries! Really, something was on the grasses of that place, I had the longing to behold them, to feel them, to take them home. I could feel the softness touching my face. And the winds! Yes, I could see the wind in that long-stretch part of the world because grasses swayed and danced and rustled and sang. But the song was somewhat of the past that one seemed to want to return to. And as I began to walk the road, the song itself began to sing…

“One day in your life, you’ll remember a place. Someone touching your face. You’ll come back and you’ll look around, you’ll… One day in your life, you’ll remember the love you found here...

"You’ll remember me, somehow. Though you don’t need me now, I will stay in your heart. And when things fall apart, you’ll remember one day… One day in your life…”

Almost forty years passed and it is noon, and fierce is the sun — and I am walking along the new Roxas Avenue. Wide and deep is the canal in the middle of the broad street; it is concrete, tree-lined and grass-less. Gone are the grass of my tender years. Gone are the grass of my childhood. And the road is no longer country and carefree but one of a big city. A structure — the tallest, so far — is standing in the horizon of the other end, white and green — the Marco Polo. The road is busy, busy, busy. Wheels. Business buildings. Houses. People walking and talking. Trade is even in the dead of night. Roxas Avenue is innocent and lonely no longer. It is now tourist highways. But the song of old is on air once again. And I can’t help but remember: One day in my life, I remember the place, something touching my face, I come back and I look around me… One day in my life along old Roxas Avenue in Davao City, Philippines.

REMNANTS: THE GRASS OF YORE. Take heart, sadden not, the grass of tender years are alive, thriving silently underneath, pushing itself through thickness of concrete-walled canal. Remnants — don’t you see? — standing straight under the sun from the crevices of a hardened slope. I picked a stalk and ran its softness, hairy-ends on my face — a reunion! My hairs standing. My eyes misty. Be of good courage, lo, they die not. Hope, its life testifies — and of joy and of triumph.

'Just do it!'

December 3, 2013. Day 129 of being homeless. 7:00 pm. Sitting at the "round ball" fronting Ateneo university, I was waiting for a certain bank to close doors (outside the bank was where I took my rest at night) when I heard somebody calling me in the familiar name at home: "Do!" I thought, my fellow sidewalk night settlers were calling me -- but, when I looked back, it was my eldest nephew. I froze.

Life in the sidewalk is not easy, especially when you are sick and the "floor" you are to sleep on is pooled with water because of constant, heavy rains.

"Until when is this, Lord?" I asked the Lord and I meant my life as a homeless, sidewalk night inhabitant and He spoke to me through words I saw on the street, words that seemed to jump out from a billboard and, as I received it, my heart panted in the manner so special: "Just do it!" And I knew the words came from the Lord as response to my query.

Upon receiving the words, I prayed the Prayer of Acceptance and found myself relieved and wanting to keep on with this particular suffering: a homeless life.

I was healed from colds and coughing eventually; but after super typhoon Yolanda (international name, Haiyan), I developed more severe dry coughs and it happened during the final stage of my homeless life where I spent at the sidewalk of a particular bank at Roxas Avenue. "Trust" was the only word that I knew during those times.

And as I got used to living this kind of life under the pressure of an illness, I was located by my nephew who had several nights been looking for me in practically all downtown sidewalks.

Brothers and sisters knew of my plight through a family friend who saw me sleeping in the sidewalk one time. Another family friend told my older brother that I was walking with dirty clothes on, not the usual me that he knew of as always "neatly-clothed."

Upon knowing, my family had sleepless nights so that they went to every downtown sidewalk every night looking for me -- until my nephew finally located me on the night of December 3, 2013, the 129th and final day of my homeless life.

I am home again; and I got healed of severe dry coughs, thanks to my brother who bought me medicine. My sister asked for forgiveness. I have forgiven all of them who can't be all perfect all the time. Just as I am.

Wish granted: A street youth returns home

Remembering the adversities and circumstances I had gone through due to taking care of the boy in the pad, I no longer see the boy who begs and sleeps in the sidewalk.

But the Lord, along my path, put another boy, a 13-year-old who had run away from home.

From South Davao province, he at age nine was convinced to go with a couple of adult carolers who brought him to Davao City and from Davao City to Ozamis City where he was "adopted" by a Chinese businessman. Frequent scoldings, however, made him decide to escape by bike to return to Davao City.

He showed tenderness towards me; but I knew in my heart this was only because of having missed his home and family.

My physical self wanted him to stay that way -- but I felt the Lord in my heart was wanting to grant the boy the desires of his own heart: to go home once and for all.

And I heard myself muttering the Prayer of Sufferings. 

The friendship started when I gave him organic leaf tablets for cough which I noticed was hard and continuous in him.

The coughing stopped in about five days.

"You certainly missed your family. You want to go home?" I asked him in the vernacular.

"I wish to spend this Christmas with my family," said he after we did laundry and waiting for the clothes to dry up.

"OK, we will go home," I replied.

He had many plans of where to bring me and show me once there. He even told me to stay there for long. We arrived in their place after super typhoon Yolanda wrecked several places and lives -- November 9, Saturday, after a Catholic Fellowship that we attended.

It was like I was watching Wish Ko Lang, a wish-granting TV program on GMA-7 when we got to their place.

His mom embraced him tightly. So, too, his older brothers. Amid tears suppressed.

His younger brother took my right hand and put it on his forehead in a way that I felt in my spirit this was his way of saying "thank you" for bringing his older brother back home.

As neighbors and relatives kept coming to visit and see him in the dead of night, I was in the room they provided for me to sleep the night out. I could hardly sleep though -- so happy for them all on his return after four years. But I felt in my heart he was going to change the next day.

That night, when it was time for him to sleep, he slept beside me.

When he was already asleep, I kissed him goodbye on the forehead because the Lord let me know he was going to change the next day.

The following morning, instead of showing me the best of his place can offer, he wanted to go somewhere without me. At that instance, I expressed to his mother my desire to leave. The mother insisted that I stay for another day to attend her older son's engagement to a would-be wife. This meant feast, their only way to thank me. Out of respect, I nodded. But the boy made a story so his mother agreed for me to leave that very morning.

I left that very morning. And in those days of pain before I recovered, the Prayer of Sufferings was the most distinct prayer that my lips were heard of uttering: "I accept this cross in the Name of Jesus Christ in reparation for all my sins, for the sins of the world, especially the sins of the Archdiocese of Davao."

Yolanda: the dream, the fulfillment and the cause

Days before super typhoon Yolanda struck the Philippines, I dreamed of tornadoes so huge and enormous -- gigantic whirls of wind and waters -- each spinning in different directions that where it passed through were in chaos. I was in the scene and as I saw it coming, feeling the initial wind, I asked the Lord: "Lord, should I let myself be carried away by the wind? Or should I hold on to something?" But a thought came on me: even if I held onto something, everything would be taken away by the wind. End of dream.

Is Yolanda represented by a single tornado I saw in that dream? But I saw like five tornadoes spinning of somewhat same immensity in different places. 

Prayers, coupled with sacrifices, may lessen the gravity of the impact of the catastrophes. But a catastrophe is the result of the sins committed by mankind -- especially, sins against the Holy Eucharist.

God the Father is fully Mercy as He sent His Son Jesus into the sinful world so that by the Sacrifice of His Son on the Cross, mankind is redeemed. By obedience to the Will of God the Father, the Sacrifice of the Son is Very, Very, Very Precious to the Father so that the Father desires that this Sacrifice be remembered often and always, never forgetful of this Act of the Son even a single bit -- thus, the institution of the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist into the Church where the Actual Sacrifice in Calvary is re-lived each time the Mass is officiated. But when this Mercy is ridiculed resulting to "outrages, sacrileges and indifference" to the Sacrifice of the Son remembered daily in the Holy Masses, Divine Justice takes place. Thus, the advent of catastrophes in our midst. Yet, God is still Mercy when He allows these catastrophes to happen: first, He let it be sent slowly to awaken us, escalating it to catch our attention; and if by our stubbornness and pride, we continue these Eucharistic irreverence (to say the least), this means our own perils in this part of the globe greater than what happened to Cebu, Bohol and Tacloban.

Why did these catastrophes happen in other places rather than in our own place? Is it because the people there are more sinful than we are? Far from it. We, actually, sinned the same way they did -- but, in God's Mercy, we, in this place, are given a chance to repent and change our ways especially in the conduct and treatment of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

Be it known that so far God has recognized our progress in bringing back respect, love and worship to the Holy Eucharist, most importantly to the restoration of the Traditional Latin Mass in our region. But its scope is rather limited, hence slow and prolonged in progress as yet awaiting positive response from majority of the faithfuls. To fast-track, certain practices in the Latin Mass liturgy should be introduced already in the New Mass that we are yet adhered to -- like Communion on the tongue in kneeling position on the part of the communicants and giving out Holy Communion only by the hands of the priests.

Be it known also that God is pleased with the return of the Prayer to Saint Michael the Archangel (the Angel under whose protection God has entrusted the Church from infiltration of errors and heresies) recited towards the end of the present Masses as exemplified in San Pedro Cathedral, the Seat of the Archdiocese of Davao. So, too, its present Altar where the Tabernacle is rightfully placed in the center, signifying the centrality of the Holy Eucharist to our Catholic Faith.

God is pleased as well with the Eucharistic Faith that we already possess; but faith, as said, without action is dead. Please refrain from hands-clapping within the duration of the Mass which is not a  "fellowship" as in Protestant gatherings -- but "in remembrance" to the Sacrifice of His Son on the Cross in Calvary. Clasp instead both hands as in praying hands throughout the Mass as a sign of our deep gratitude and respect to the redemptive Sacrifice of Christ on the Cross. Did the Blessed Mother Mary clap her hands before Her Son hanging and dying on the Cross as saying: "Well done, My Son! Well done! You've done a great job!"? But no! She was in tears, feeling the pain endured by the Lord in the silence of Her Immaculate Heart, marveling at the Greatness of God's Mercy and Love towards sinners to reach that loftiness of the decision of the Father and depth of the obedience of the Son!

Similarly, when you elevate slowly the Host during Consecration, all the more you are to be extra careful in bringing It down  as a sign of your faith, love and reverence to the Body of Christ that the White Host has become after Elevation -- instead of plunging It down as if the initial faith that was acted upon is suddenly put to a halt -- lost in oblivion!

Also, since the Holy Mass is simply not a social gathering where we greet a lot of people, please stop incorporating human activities into the Mass proper -- like commencement exercises, graduation rites, award-givings, greetings of birthdays, anniversaries and the likes.

Is Yolanda equivalent to five typhoons combined? This may be the meaning of the dream. Does it mean no more super typhoons in the offing? As already said, catastrophes are the result of the sins committed by mankind against the Holy Eucharist. As this is yet committed over and over again, this kind will still come -- even worse.

Evil dreams are good because it leads to repentance. Thus, we cannot simply rebuke it away to keep the dreams from happening. In fact, dreams of this nature are Divine Gifts, manifesting God's Mercy towards people, warning us of impending catastrophes and giving us a chance to lessen its effect or eradicate these altogether depending on our response.

In these battles, our defense are victim souls who have the burden to pray the Prayer of Repentance and the Prayer of Sufferings (acceptance and living the life of simplicity, for example) in reparation for the Eucharistic sins committed by the local Archdiocese. Hence, we need more victim souls here.

But we do not only defend ourselves, we need also to attack or take offensive action to win these battles. Our offense is in stopping the causes of the catastrophes.

Stop clapping the hands during the Mass; stop giving Communion in the hand; stop laymen and women from touching and giving consecrated Hosts to communicants!!!

One last thing, was Yolanda intended for us in our region? Why, then, did it happen in other place? Let this be left unanswered. But the discerning know the answer.

A soul in need of prayers guides me to his grave

If souls go out their way of the netherworld to ask for prayers from the living, how eager would these souls be once they know of a person who is as eager as to pray for them even without them asking for it?

And how the soul helps you out especially when you, the intercessor, never know what the name of the soul is! 

The soul I wanted to pray for was the soul of the father of a childhood friend. 

But this friend would not give me the name of her father no matter how I insisted. 

It might be because this friend resented over my non-appearance to her father's funeral. 

I was broke at the time, nothing to even buy load for my cellular phone to contact and inform her of the matter. 

I was even too sick to walk my way to the wake. 

Because of this, I never knew the cemetery where the remains of her father was to be buried. 

After burial, I was able to secure some money to contact her and asked for the name of her father -- for prayers! 

But she would not reply pertaining to her father's name. 

I was thinking, she might change religion that never believes in soul-praying. 

Well, enough of speculations! 

The soul would find ways to let me know of its name. 

For, souls are in dire need of prayers. 

Souls even visit the living through dreams to tell of this intercessory need of theirs. 

I left everything to the soul and I let myself forget about it. 

One day, I came to visit my mother's grave. 

After praying for my mother's soul, I decided to do "slow-walking" towards the interior of the cemetery while saying another rosary -- this time, for other souls whose mortal bodies are buried in those grounds. 

Along the way, towards the end of the cemetery, I noticed a freshly-laden grave with the name"Severino" of the family name of my friend inscribed on the marker. 

"Was your father's name Severino?" I asked my friend via text message. 

Her reply was vague. 

A typo error, it could be understood as "no" or "yes" by our dialect. 

But a common neighbor of ours whom I had never seen for years came to our house and I had the chance to ask for the name of the father of our common friend. 

And the reply was: "SEVERINO!"

The boy in the pad

The following entry is recorded in my diary dated June 7, 2008, 1:47 p.m., Saturday:

THE TWO DEVILS

I had another dream... a night dream... and it was very real! In my dream, I was sleeping in my room; and it was relatively very dark. Suddenly, two devils put their weights on me in the middle of my sleep. Hardly could I breathe! I prayed the "Hail Marys" real hard over and over -- until I uttered the prayer in my mouth in reality. I woke up in the darkness of my room... very similar to the situation of my dream. I had this dream in a "bachelor's pad" I had rented from September 2007 to January 2008 before I transferred here in this room. Many things happened in the pad, and I am writing them here.

THE EVIL EYES

There was one incident when I was locking my door to go somewhere, I was aghast to see the face of someone whose eyes were transfixed in the direction of my door. My eyes met his! -- and it was like I saw satan's eyes! I looked down suddenly, I didn't want him see my reaction. He was a man in his early 30's. And he was able to help me before one way or another.

THE KILLINGS ON CHRISTMAS DAY

December 25, two of my nephews were with me in the pad. I had a sudden feeling in the afternoon to take them away from that place the soonest I could. Off we went hurriedly to the nearby market without even looking at anybody we met along the way. An hour and a half after we left, two men in that house were killed! Killed by the man with evil eyes! I returned to my pad the day after. I consoled the family with my presence -- in the wake, in the Mass, and in the burial.

THE PRESENCE OF TWO SOULS

There was an eerie feeling, but I was getting used to it. One night, I woke up in the middle of my sleep and sensed strong in my spirit the presence of two souls standing and staring at me and the boy sleeping in my bed. And the dog that never wailed before, wailed at that moment. I prayed for the souls.

THE BOY IN THE PAD

One of those killed had a son, a four-year-old boy, who lived with me in the pad. This was before the death of his father. Nobody in that house took care of him. In his tender age, he was already a thief in the market and afflicted with sores in his legs. I felt compassion for him -- mercy! I fed him, bathed him and treated his wounds. And the sores healed.

He liked me -- he felt loved. The feeling was mutual because I felt needed, and I was longing for friendships.

His family -- especially, the aunts and the grandpa -- was very jealous of me... except his father.

It was him who prodded the boy to practically live and sleep in my pad -- in my care -- after seeing improvements with his child.

Jealous family attempted several times to take away the feelings of the boy towards me -- but to no avail.

Yet I was hit by millions of arrows of pains and aches right through the center of my heart because of jealousy of the family.

Undoubtedly, it was them whom prophet Don warned me about:"...I see someone who doesn't like you and they are working against you. It's actually the spirit of witchcraft."

But I had a prayer: 

"Lord, let the father of the boy feel the way I feel for his son; and let the feelings of the boy towards me be transferred to his own father."

I came to a point when I decided to stop all this in respect to his jealous family. 

The father pleaded with me through his girlfriend [to continue taking care of his son], but I was already firm. 

When the father realized that his son was able to sleep outside my door in the darkness of the alley one night after many pleadings of the boy to enter, he was moved to pity for his son. 

And that started the answer to my prayer. 

The following day, the father was a changed man. 

He took care of his own son -- bathing, feeding, guarding, going out and eating out with him. 

All of a sudden, the boy distanced himself from me. It hurt me deep in my spirit. 

That was why I took home with me my two nephews on Christmas day. I was very lonely. I could hardly hide it so that the family was rejoicing over what happened to me. 

THE FALLING BOY

December 31, 2007. After burial, I had a dream in my afternoon sleep -- this time, concerning "a boy in the pad."

It was so VERY real that I decided to transfer residence as soon as possible.

And I found this room I have rented since January this year.

It was an abrupt decision; I never wanted to see the dream happen. And who will want to see it happen?

The vision suggests it is to happen in that place.

This dream was short and sudden -- like injecting itself from nowhere into the void of my sleeping imagination.

Shouting at the top of his voice, a boy was in the act of falling! His eyes were looking downward -- in great fear and panic.

I was in great fear and panic as I was watching the vision.

I woke up suddenly.

THE FATHER OF THE BOY

Let me tell you something about the father of the boy.

He, too, was very difficult to deal with. I stopped delivering native snack food to his store because he would say he already paid me such and such deliveries which actually he did not pay.

I kept offering to God for him those sacrifices.

I felt bitter, but I felt more compassion for the man.

From my place, during the night when he was usually drunk, I could hear practically all his sentiments towards his family.

He had no room of his own. He slept outside -- in the makeshift store attached to the house of his father.

My prayers were incessant. Tears were even on my cheeks.

Because I knew God looked so kindly on that man, for God came for the likes of him into this world -- but I am worst.

A drunkard, he was also a "call boy."

I even heard him say he was a "thorn in the throat of his family."

Many prayers and sacrifices passed.

Then came a time when his own father granted him a room in the house.

I was very happy.

And I was happier when I came to know this: he asked for forgiveness for the kind of life he lived before the tomb of his mother on Christmas day -- morning.

And in the afternoon, he was killed.

THE SMELL OF PAINT

On my last day at the pad, I suddenly smelled a paint. A paint used to paint a coffin?

When I came to remember the man, my plugged electric fan, all of a sudden, stopped rotating.

I knew it was the soul of his -- in the midst of me.

I prayed and prayed for the soul -- until the smell vanished and the fan resumed.

Was it thanking me for everything?

I thank You, Lord Jesus, for everything.

[The blogger's note: The boy is now nine years old and is already in the custody of his biological mother in South Davao province. The vision never happened. Prayers may have prevented it while prayers are still on-going for the soul of his father in purgatory. The killer, a constant butt of jokes and a bullying underdog of his victims, is serving his sentence in the Davao Penal Colony reduced only to a few years for pleading guilty of the crimes he committed.]

Theft in the sidewalk

My pocket "point-and-shoot" camera and a pair of slippers were stolen! In the tiredness of my body for incessant walking Friday last week, I stopped in Claveria to take a rest in the sidewalk before I could go on to a government hospital to sleep in its compound where it is safe; but I found out later at dawn, I slept the whole night in Claveria and was a victim of theft. In my life as homeless in the vicinity of the hospital, I have met a nine-year-old boy who is fond of collecting cartons, plastic bottles and cans and his young mother who likes to put on make-up at night. They sleep at daytime at DMC hospital and are busy at night in Claveria: the boy, a beggar; the mother, a prosti. Not all seen about the hospital building have patients; a few are homeless persons trying to take shelter in and to say they have patients is to save them from the shame of being known of having no homes. But a homeless can detect one who is also homeless. And when they come to know other homeless individuals, they are happy they are not alone. My friendship with the boy began in the steel swing where I frequent myself every morning and ask him to join me in the swinging. This connection transitioned gradually into like a deeper friendship as truth of our existence gradually emerges as well. I had the chance to ask him why he likes me: "Kay gusto man kog amigo." (Because I need a friend.) Why me? "Kay wala man kay balay." (Because you are homeless.) At first, he said they have a patient admitted in the hospital; but later, I had doubts because his conversations were different every time I asked him about the patient. My feeling was supported as true when, one evening on my way to downtown, I caught him in the sidewalk in Claveria with his blanket on ready to sleep. When I revealed I too am homeless, he is connected to me like my own shadow, asking me to go to Claveria every night where he begs and sleeps. Friday last week, on my way back to the hospital walking from downtown via Claveria, somebody was following me and calling my attention: the boy! I was already very tired of incessant walking all day because earlier I went to the feast of San Francisco de Asis in Tagakpan. I promised him I would bring them "lechon." But something went wrong. I returned the rice and lechon I "sacked" for the boy and his mom. I never ate my share in the feast to be able to "sack" my share for the boy and his mom. But a man from the church rebuked me upon exiting: "Welcome mo diri para mamiyesta pero sa sunod ayaw mo pag-sacking og pagkaon para makakaon ang uban." (You are welcome here to feast but do not sack food next time so other visitors can eat as well.)  I returned the food. And I had to go to the nearby Pantatan (Catfish) Festival in Tugbok where everyone could have a share of one grilled catfish and rice. I was happy to have something to give to the boy and the woman for dinner because they eat only once a day. I rested in the sidewalk with the boy that Friday night but was able to sleep the whole night unknowingly while his mom was on her particular trade that evening. It does not matter if my camera and slippers were stolen; what matters is the friendship that I have found in the person of this youth.