MYRNA’S CONCERN FOR our Kasambahay Cita’s sick son, Renzo, melted me. Clearly a mother-to-mother stimulus, the driven two didn’t stop until they went to his sweatshop in Litex and gave him meds and provisions to guarantee all three that Renzo will no longer worry any of them. Upon returning, Myrna would feign chagrin that their entry into the place was stressful because it was caused more by her driving (she is leery of narrow alleys) than the help she volunteered to undertake.
The firefly came, hovered above me and alighted on the Chinese jade flowers on the coffee table beside my couch and blinked several moments before it flew away. Its flickers reminded of the blessings my wife and eldest son received lately. The little lantern didn’t emerge Tuesday night; but sealed Myrna’s first day of work the night after that. Nothing beats counting and thanking blessings. This is why my writing seems to ramble. Because, whenever a thankful thought crosses my mind, I write it before it slips and forever disappears. And regardless of where it should squeeze into my already drawn-out draft. Reason why I owe Tess Lora the tongue exercise that improved my memory. Reinforced, of course, by reducing its arrival into paper as soon as it passes. Everything being God-given, I write whatever He makes me think of in order not to waste His gift.
Like when I decided to give pause to St. Augustine’s “Confessions.” Taking into account Ate Myla’s admission that it took her months to finish the book. Because it required a slow discernment process to truly plumb the prayer-like treatise. “Consoling the Heart of Jesus” by Michael Gaitley, MIC (Marians of the Immaculate Conception), turned out to be a holy alternative, a retreat of sorts to be taken individually or with a close group. Even better, it reunited me with St. Ignatius (and his exercises), Montfort, Mother Teresa, St. Paul, St. Faustina, St. Therese of Lisieux and added Venerable Fr. Pio Bruno Lanteri in the list. I may have lost Fr. Michael Denk but found his namesake filling the (transient) void. How else would I have come across, again, Montfort (our patron and paragon of Totus Tuus Journey (more on this later) whose burning desire to be a saint consumed his earthly life (and achieved a fitting reward). His classic work, “True Devotion to Mary,” is now soul material of TTJers, making this little worm’s weakness rise to the heights of holiness. It’s the same littleness that, in spite of his leaving the rigorous Carthusian congregation, Fr. Lanteri discovered in the Ignatian retreats and his secret weapons, Divine Mercy and Mary.
The book was written in 2018 but it foresaw the unprecedented evil that is the pandemic in our midst. This retreat, therefore, comes as a timeless, unprecedented mercy for the present, designed for poor, feeble and little souls aspiring to be holy. I no longer pine for the waylaid 40dayapp. While it is designed for the faithful who wish to be more prayerful, my only lament is that it could have been less strict in its means of access. In my heart of hearts, I pray it reconsiders and makes the app more accessible through less stringent methods.
Lest I forget a most significant attribute of Fr. Michael’s book/retreat, he had a very endearing explanation for the lower case pronouns pertaining to Jesus I found most difficult to dismiss. One, the sheer number of the capitalized pronouns might distract the reader and two, at the Cenacle, He called His disciples no longer servants, but friends. The lower case pronoun, therefore, not indicating irreverence but intimacy. With due respect to him, I maintain my reverence intimately while fighting the urge to add here a smiley.
One might also wonder why I’m stationed in our backyard lanai. The story is short and sweet. When my family claimed me from exile, I was still weak with the flu. Understandably wary of contagion (especially my asthmatic eldest), they appointed the couch as my bed (where Bronson has decided to claim the portion beneath as his, an arrangement I cherish) and, until I fully recovered, no one bothered to change the arrangement. I have no quarrel with it: the lanai is bigger than my old sleeper/study in the den (described as “kaharian” by then irate Alex); my small table is now a big, round monobloc; I appreciate the quiet and company of our dog; the altar is here; and there’s never a chance of being blessed with a visit by a firefly in my old quarter.
Another grace I acknowledge is my philhealth membership which I was able to work on in a matter of days through the generosity of an old friend from my government employment. It is true that, in spite of the scandal rocking that insurance firm, being in its membership list amounts to a big dose of security. Especially to a septuagenarian like me. Should a surprise disease befall me again, I have a health card to fall back on.
Come I to speak of grace, I’ve no intention of, no matter if my ipad storage fills up, deleting at least two videos in my fb account. One is of my dear departed friend Kuya Ross Evardone, Cursillista and PREX Speaker Extraordinaire, and personne noble, acting out his rib-tickling “Inward-Outward” dynamic, and the other is of me performing his “Beautiful” legacy in a reunion with my friends at ILS held in the home of Pards Mel in UP Village. I treasure his memory, which includes “The Imitation of Christ.” The book gave me the unforgettable words “compunction” and “concupiscence,” which have served as my guideposts in living a COP lifestyle. Owed to this, I’m grateful that I refused the offer of a friend to join their zoom product-launch lottery. I disagreed because I was no longer an active distributor of their products (although I’m a user). She insisted and I was encouraged. But, untechie and impatient that I am, the waiting took time I had to leave. I was sorry I even tried. Still, the aborted attempt tainted me. Thankfully, before I drifted off to dormition, the firefly flew by. Amen.
2014 Copyright. Claretian Communications Foundation Inc
