My healing journey

It was supposed to be an ordinary trip to a parish-related gathering, the Parish Renewal Experience (PREX) convention held at General Santos City in South Cotabato in Mindanao recently. The trip turned out, however, into another healing journey for me.

Flashback: I left Cotabato in 1976 after spending some 8 years working as an Oblate of Mary Immaculate missionary. In those 8 relatively short years I spent more than a year as an Assistant Parish Priest in Kidapawan (North Cotabato), a few months as a substitute priest in Tacurong (Sultan Kudarat) and the rest in Cotabato City at Notre Dame Seminary in Nuling and at the Notre Dame University in the city of Cotabato. It was while at Notre Dame Seminary as Diocesan Director of Vocations that I was able to move around what was then known as the empire province of Cotabato, to as far down south as General Santos City (then known as Dadiangas) visiting schools and preaching recollections and retreats to students. Needless to say, during those years I was able to recruit several aspiring young men to join the diocesan seminary as well as the Oblate seminary. Along the way, I also developed a number of friends some of whom became more than friends to me and treated me like family.

I only went back to Cotabato some two years ago or 30 years later in September 2007 when Fr. Al Carino, OMI, a very good friend starting from seminary days to our priestly ministry, died. I thought then that it was time for me to return to my “roots”, as it were. I described that trip then as my “spiritual homecoming” or a healing journey in my letter of thanks to the Oblate Provincial Fr. Ramon Ma. Bernabe, OMI. And to understand where I am coming from now, here are excerpts of my letter to Fr. Bernabe:

…..“It has been not only a visit and last respect to a great friend, but also some sort of spiritual homecoming for me… I was not planning to come at first as I was thinking of the long tiring trip not only of the flight but also of the trip to the airport from our place. Then on Tuesday morning while my wife Thelma and I were at mass in our parish church, I received your text as forwarded by Taddy regarding the date and time of the funeral. Strangely, I felt a strong urge to go. I then told Al in prayer that if he wants me to go, then I would. At breakfast, I told my wife about my decision. She immediately got in touch with Archbishop Orly and I emailed you asking for the possibility of accommodations in Tamontaka where the wake was…

Please thank Fr. Clete Ternes, OMI, who has been a great host. I had a real wonderful time talking to him during the meals we shared reminiscing old times and talking about people we knew both alive and dead!... I thank Fr. Zaldy Oreola too whom I just met for the first time that Thursday afternoon but was very generous of his time to tour me around the OMI novitiate and the OND grounds where I got to meet a lot of OND friends. I prayed also for some friends at the OND cemetery.

Friday, after the funeral, I lingered at the cemetery and prayed for/to the OMI's I knew and have been closed to. I then walked around the grotto and just enjoyed the quiet surroundings and the huge trees thanking God. It was truly an experience. Many of my long-held fears and anxieties about coming back to Cotabato have vanished as I felt the love and caring of friends --both old and new, priests, religious and laity. Somehow I also felt I have been forgiven as I have forgiven those who I thought had rejected and hurt me after I left... I realized then that my trip has turned into a healing journey…

During that first trip for Fr. Al’s funeral, I was not able to visit Tacurong and Kidapawan, the two places where I spent a significant part of my priestly ministry. And so when this Gensan trip beckoned, I immediately took the opportunity and planned my journey to these two places …

At Gensan, my wife Thelma and I were met at the airport by our gracious hosts, Dra. Mary Ann Ayco (of the Montilla family of Tacurong) and Femie Lechonsito (of the Lechonsitos of Tacurong). Both call me “Dad” and are like daughters to me. After getting settled at the house of Mary Ann’s younger sister Suzanne Montilla-Juliano, we proceeded to visit first an old friend I have not seen for many years, Sr. Antonia Falgui (of the Falgui clan of Kiamba) who is now bedridden by diabetes and other complications. Then off we went to spend overnight in a beach resort (Isla Jardin del Mar) at Glan, Saranggani province to relax before going through the grueling schedule of the convention.

Immediately after the convention on Sunday noon, with RTC Judge Bert Ayco (Mary Ann’s husband) at the wheels, we left for Tacurong passing by Polomolok, South Cotabato for a brief tour of the Dole pineapple plantation and snacks at their Kalsangi clubhouse where we had a chance encounter and photo opportunity with former President Fidel V. Ramos who just came from a round of golf at the Dole golf course.

Driving along the South Cotabato national highway passing through Polomolok, Tupi, and Koranadal (formerly Marbel) was a breeze reminding me of our expressways in Luzon. Without the stopovers in Polomolok and Tupi (where we stopped again for “pasalubongs”), the trip to Tacurong took us only about an hour when it used to take me about two hours including all the free dust (or mud) that went with the trip!

After spending Sunday night with the Ayco family in Tacurong, we left for Kidapawan Monday morning with Sr. Lucy, OND, another friend from the past, who rejoined our group.

So from Tacurong in the province of Sultan Kudarat, we proceeded Northeast towards Kidapawan in North Cotabato passing through a couple of towns in the province of Maguindanao. The highway this time was not as good as the one in South Cotabato, but better than the old highway I used to be familiar with! At Crossing Tulunan, Judge Ayco pointed to me the very place where Fr. Tulio Favali, an Italian PIME missionary was shot to death some years back… I whispered a little prayer for him… Finally we reached Kidapawan after about an hour of driving… It occurred to me at this point that we have actually gone through 5 provinces and 4 cities already in such a brief time!

Approaching what is now the City of Kidapawan (and capital of North Cotabato) was entering memory lane for me… There were so many new buildings as well as familiar landmarks along the main highway. But what caught my attention right away was the statue of St. Joseph in front of what used to be the old and familiar St. Joseph Hospital where I ministered to many sick and dying people in the year and a half that I was in Kidapawan. There was the market, Kidapawan Hardware, and of course, the renovated parish church (now the cathedral of the Diocese of Kidapawan), and the site of the old convento where I used to live…

We first visited a very dear friend, Mrs. Meding Alonzo, now a widow who lives with only a companion in their sprawling house. It was an emotional visit, with Joe or Pete Alonzo (Meding’s husband and my best friend) having passed away just a year or two back… Next in our agenda was the new OMI retreat or spiritual center in Binoligan where we visited with my friend, Fr. Armand “Pete” Carignan, OMI who incidentally was celebrating his birthday that day. And again, by coincidence, I also got to meet Fr. Armando Angeles a diocesan priest who turned out to be an old student of mine at the Nuling Seminary! He hugged me and, ironically for me, thanked me for having recruited him to join the seminary!,,, We next visited Bishop Romulo dela Cruz, now Bishop of Kidapawan at his residence in Balindog. Bishop Romy and I were both resident priests at the Diocesan Seminary in Nuling in the early 70’s. It warmed my heart when later my wife Thelma told me that Bishop Romy thanked her for “taking good care of Danny. He looks good!”…Lunch was with Dr. and Mrs. Alfredo Villarico, my old doctor in Kidapawan who happened to be also a friend of Sr. Lucy. We had fun time reminiscing the past… Our last visit but nonetheless a meaningful one was with another friend of mine, former North Cotabato congressman Greg Ipong, my former seminarian at Nuling who hugged me and called me his “mentor”… Back to Gensan that same afternoon, a brief stopover again in Tacurong gave me the opportunity to visit with Mrs. Asuncion Montilla, Mary Ann’s mom who was recently widowed. It was a heartwarming visit for me as she affirmed her love for me as “Mary Ann”s good friend”.

I left Gensan with Thelma for Manila the next day not only with a bagful of “pasalubongs”, but also with a heart brimming with joy and thanking God for faithful friends who I had found out have always been there for me after all.

My healing is now complete.

"The blind side" of love

At mass last Sunday, I thought that the second reading from the 1^st Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians 13, 1-13, considered as the classic Christian treatise on love, was a fitting introduction to the month of February, the acknowledged “Love Month”, and to the Season of Lent that also starts this month.

Today, I want to follow suit and write about love. No, not about romantic love, but about the love that St. Paul talks about. It is about love that is “patient and kind”. It is love that is creative, a love that inspires the other to reach his full potential, a love that allows the other to grow, to become himself in the fullness of being that God intended him to be. But it is also a love that is “blind” as I will explain later.

I found this kind of love in the story of Michael Oher, an All American and first round draft pick of the Baltimore Ravens in the NFL. His life is portrayed in the movie, “The Blind Side” starring Sandra Bullock whose portrayal of the lead character in the movie earned for her a Golden Globe Best Actress award and an Oscar nomination this year for best actress also.

The movie is about the remarkable true-to-life story of Oher, an African-American young man who has had a rough childhood after being badly traumatized by his separation from his mom and siblings. He grew up going from one foster family to another and became known as a “runner”, since he would always run away from every one of them until the Tuohys, an upper middle-class Caucasian Christian family found him.

The Tuohys adopted him through the initiative of Leigh Ann (Sandra Bullock), the mother in the family. Little by little the other members of the family also took to him and slowly considered him as their own. It was with Leigh Ann, however, with whom Michael developed a special kind of foster mother and foster son relationship. Soon it became apparent that even as the Tuohys transformed his life, Michael also touched their lives and led them to some insightfull self-discoveries of their own.

The “blind side” in the movie title actually refers to the side opposite the direction a football player (usually the quarterback) is facing. In an ongoing play, it’s the job of the tackle to protect the quarterback’s blind side. Leigh Ann discovered that Michael has a very high “protective instinct” and pointed it out to Michael and his coach. Eventually, Michael used this to his advantage to excel in the game of American football.

To me, however, the “blind side” also refers to the blind side of love that the Tuohys, especially Leigh Ann, demonstrated in Michael’s case. It is the form of Christian love that turns a blind eye to a man’s past, to the color of his skin or the external appearances of a person, and instead sees only his dignity, the respect he deserves, and the potentials he is capable of.

It is the same kind of love that God demonstrates when He loves each one of us! A good reminder for all of us in this month of love and as we enter the season of Lent.

Birthday musings: 22 January 2010

When I was a little boy and when all the hype and waiting for Christmas were over, I would always looked forward to the month of January.  Not because of the New Year or the back to school schedule, but because my birthday falls in January.  Later in school, I would learn that it was also the birthmonth of three of my best friends whom I spent my growing up years with.

Come to think of it, there was nothing special about the birthdays of my childhood and early youth.  I don’t remember any children’s party that celebrated my 7^th birthday, for instance.  Instead, I remember that the birthdays of my youth were simply a day for me to rejoice in the fact that I have grown taller; and then that I was already eligible to start school in Grade 1 when I reached seven years of age; and much later when I hit thirteen, that I could wear my first long pants, go to parties and start to be cute with the girls. 

Then as I went through high school, my birthdays became days to plan ahead for the future: what I would like to be, what course to take in college.  And then much later, as a young adult in the seminary, they became days not only to look forward to and plan for the future but also to assess my situation then with the questions: where am I now and why am I here?  That was when I started to question my vocation.

Today, as I turn to be an elderly senior citizen, I find myself looking back and remembering the past instead of looking forward to and planning for the future.  And the feeling that is foremost in my heart is nothing but gratefulness for everything that the good Lord has thrown my way as I journey – blessings received from the right things I have done as well as lessons learned from the mistakes I have made.

Today also, I entrust everything to the good Lord for whatever the future brings as I play the cards I have been dealt with. 

Finally today, I look back with gratitude in my heart and contemplate the future with hope.

The forgotten innocents of the Maguindanao Massacre: A family's shattered dreams

"The Mangundadatus, the media people, the lawyers, the women -- they all have their advocates to advance their cause. But how many have take up the cause or much less even heard of the story of Eduardo (Nonie) and his wife Cecil Lechonsito, Mercy Palabrica, Daryll delos Reyes, and Wilhelm Palabrica, the five occupants of the red Toyota Vios whose only fault they say was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?" This the lament of the members of the Lechonsito family when I talked to one of the members of their clan recently regarding the Maguindanao Massacre.

I agree with Antonio J. Montalvan (Inquirer, 10 Janurary 2010) that “not much was brought to the public consciousness about the occupants of that red Vios.” A search through the internet produced nothing much other than an Inquirer column of Ma. Ceres P. Doyo (Inquirer 12/24/09), a letter to the editor (Inquirer 12/27/09) by Katz Serrano (a niece of Nonie), and the combined TV documentary by Kiri Dalena and Pat Evangelista’s print story in ANC. The rest of the entries were “list of victims” making Eduardo Lechonsito and companions mere statistics, unknown faces that will most likely fade in time. That is, unless we the people tell their story.

This blog post then is in response to the plea of Katz Serrano in her letter not to forget the story of her Tito and Tita, “to bring to the public consciousness that there were other innocent victims in that massacre who were not even part of the convoy”. I am writing this because this is not just another story about the Maguindanao Massacre, but the story of a family’s shattered dreams because of a clan's greed for power. I am writing this because Lea Lechonsito-Bacalian, a first cousin of Nonie, is a close friend of mine and like a daughter to me. She gave me most of the materials for this story.

Nonie comes from the large and apolitical clan of the Lechonsitos of Tacurong City. He was born in Tacurong of migrant parents, typical Ilongos from Lambunao, Iloilo who are gentle and God-loving. Nonie was raised by his hard-working parents and was sent to the Catholic-run Notre Dame of Tacurong for his education. Cecil, his wife, is from Dumaguete, who migrated to Tacurong as a young student. As fate had it, she boarded with Nonie’s relatives while studying at Notre Dame. They met one day and soon Nonie started courting her. The courtship ended in a mutual decision to get married and raise a family together. Their union produced two lovely girls who became their parents’ treasures. The couple nicknamed them Honey and Sugar. (I thought no names could have been sweeter… And come to think of it too, they are names that speak of the sweetness and closeness of the family to one another.)

And so together Nonie and Cecil built dreams for their children. They planned to give them the best education and to support them in their chosen careers no matter what it would take. In return the two Lechonsito girls did their utmost best and brought not only sweetness, but also unspeakable joy to their parents.

Two years ago when Sugar had started to go to college, Cecil decided to take the route of going abroad to work as an OFW. Nonie’s salary as city Licensing Officer of Tacurong City, even when combined with Cecil’s salary as manager of a recruitment agency, was not enough to support the two girls’ needs in college. Honey had pursued a course in Manila while Sugar had gone to Iloilo and was in a dormitory. There was an opening for a Nanny to the daughter of a Sheik in Qatar. She decided to apply for it and got the job. With heavy hearts Nonie and the girls let Cecil go. The sweet happy family was “broken”. Nonie remained in Tacurong, Honey in Manila, Sugar in Iloilo, and Cecil in far away, strange, and lonely Qatar. But they all knew it was going to be temporary. The separation was the price they had to pay for their dreams. Anyway, they could look forward to reunions in between, they thought.

The first of such reunions was scheduled to happen last December 2009. Cecil was to come home for vacation starting mid-November in time for her birthday on November 25, then stay for Christmas and all the way until March for Honey’s graduation from college. Everything was set. Nonie had sent the girl’s tickets already.

Cecil arrived from Qatar on November 7, 2009 and stayed in Manila where she, Nonie and Honey had some sort of a mini reunion among themselves and with close relatives. Sugar was in Iloilo and could not join them. But her mother’s promise of a laptop computer as pasalubong and Christmas gift was there.

On November 14 Cecil and Nonie flew home to Tacurong to celebrate Cecil’s birthday and then would just wait for the two girls to come home for the Christmas reunion.

As we all know by now, Cecil never got to celebrate her birthday and the planned Christmas reunion for the sweet lovely family never happened…

Nonie suffered a mild stroke sometime after he and Cecil arrived from Manila. The doctors in Tacurong wanted a CT scan taken which can be done either in Cotabato City to the North of Tacurong or in General Santos City to the South. As fate would have it again, Cecil apparently made arrangements in Cotabato City for the needed CT scan for practical reasons and not in General Santos City where facilities were probably better.

On that fateful morning of Monday, November 23, 2009, two weeks after that mini reunion in Manila with Honey, Nonie and Cecil stepped into a service vehicle, a red Toyota Vios, driven by a Tacurong City Hall employee named Wilhelm Palabrica. They were accompanied by Nonie’s secretary Mercy Palabrica and his faithful aide Daryll delos Reyes. It was supposed to be a normal trip that takes only two hours, more or less, to negotiate, but alas, the trip took a different turn.

Patricia Evangelista of ANC wrote: “On the road to Shariff Aquak, the red Vios with its cargo of five was stopped along with a convoy of vehicles from Buluan city.

Wilhelm and Mercy’s bodies were found on Tuesday, inside the mangled red Vios that the investigators dug out of a pit in a hill two kilometers from the main road.”

I need not mention anymore the gory details of what happened on that lonely stretch of highway in the boundary of Esperanza in Sultan Kudarat province and Ampatuan in Maguindanao that morning of Monday, November 23, 2009…

But, I must mention that for two agonizing days, the two Lechonsito girls and their relatives were storming heavens in the dimmest of hope that Nonie and Cecil were still alive. On, Wednesday, November 25, Cecile’s birthday, they prayed for Cecil to guide those who were doing the retrieval operations and to lead them to where they were since it was her birthday anyway. Sure enough they found the bodies of Nonie and Cecil that afternoon. The two bodies have been buried deep under the Vios and a van, mangled beyond recognition but uncannily one lying beside the other probably in a last embrace before breathing their last. Until death, the two were still together as they had vowed many years ago. They were buried beside each other in Tacurong City on December 5, 2009.

It has been almost two months since that day of infamy in our history that is now known as “The Maguindanao Massacre”. The victims have been buried. The slow wheels of justice have at least started to grind. But the ones left behind by the victims remain inconsolable.

Today Honey is back in Manila preparing for her final exams and then graduation and possibly the Med Tech board exams. With the help of relatives, she hopes to continue on to Medicine Proper to become a Doctor someday and fulfill the dream of her parents.

While Honey is with relatives in Manila, Sugar is virtually alone in a dormitory in Iloilo with the last memento from her mother – a laptop computer. She requested her Mom for a laptop hoping she could exchange emails, chat or even talk via Skype with her in Qatar, Honey in Manila. and Dad Nonie in Tacurong. Now the laptop computer and the internet can wait. Like Honey, her dear sweet sister, she still has to dry her tears and nurse her grief…

But until when?

Today

Today is the feast of the Epiphany of our Lord.  It is the feast of God the Son’s first manifestation to all men represented by the Wise men from the East who found Him after a long search and an arduous journey. 

Today, more than ever, I wish God would also manifest Himself to me and bring me out of darkness into the light, answer my questions and give me hope for the future like He did to Jeremiah.  “For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord.  Plans to prosper you and not to harm you.  Plans to give you hope and a future.”  (Jer 29,11)

Today is also the end of the Christmas season, a season of bright and colorful lights, of parties and giving of gifts, of reunions and family bonding.  I completed the nine days of “Simbang Gabi” and attended Midnight Mass, wrote our annual family Christmas newsletter and counted our blessings, celebrated our wedding anniversary and thanked God for the 31 happy married years, joined the annual reunion of the Alvarezes and Mendiolas, and sat at our family “Noche Buena”.  But that was it for me as a dark pall of gloom continued to hang over my head… And  come to think of it, that probably explains why I have not written a single post for this blog during the month of December.

Today, I read the column of Patricia Evangelista in the Opinion page of the Inquirer entitled, “We, the living”, and I wept… The whole article depressed me more as she wrote of what 2009 had been.  The devastating typhoons and their raging floods, the fiery Mayon volcano, the killer road and sea accidents, the breakdown of law and order, the miscarriages of justice, the corruption in government and overacting politicians, and finally the massacre of the innocents in Maguindanao… I then realized that this is what has been with me after all.  And I have been affected because it is true that “what is most universal is also most personal”.

Today is the third day of the year 2010, the feast of the Epiphany of our Lord, the feast of the first manifestation of the Son of God in human form.  He comes as Light in the darkness of our lives, as Hope amidst pain and suffering around us. 

Today I pray that I may be able to recognize Him when He comes to manifest himself to me, maybe in the stranger at the gate or in the face of a street kid, within the pages of a book that I am reading or in the pages of the Holy Bible.  And like the Wise men, I must continue searching diligently.

Today, I am hopeful.

Finding hope and light in the story of Efren Penaflorida

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, … it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair...”

I took these lines from the opening paragraph of Charles Dickens’ classic novel, A Tale of Two Cities, written in 1859 depicting the state of the times before and during the French Revolution in the two cities of Paris and London.

I recalled these lines because for the past few days I have been thinking how they also very accurately describe the state of our beloved Philippines today.

For some reason, however, I could only see “the worst of times… the season of Darkness… and the winter of Despair”…

As a 67-year-old parent and grandparent who wants a better tomorrow for his children and grandchildren, I could only feel in despair as I see the continued deterioration of peace and order, the anarchy among motorists in our roads, the wheeling and dealing in our politics and government institutions, and the growing number of poor people who are hungry, sick and abandoned. I thought I would start to see light with the coming 2010 elections only to see darkness settle in with the present horse-trading, changing alliances and the questionable automated elections. I could only see the worst of times in our deteriorating environment, the floods never seen before in history, and the rising number of diseases whose cure has yet to be discovered.

My feelings were aggravated most especially by the events of the past few days in Cotabato where I have spent some few good years of my younger life. I started to get depressed as I recalled and imagined the place where the so-called “Maguindanao Massacre” happened. I remember traveling by that same highway many times in the past from Cotabato City on my way to the southern part of the province. It seemed like nothing has changed since the 70’s but has even gotten worst. Painful memories came back as I was told that the massacre happened almost on the same spot where my classmate and friend, Fr. Nelson Javellana, OMI, died from an ambush many years ago. They say that Fr. Nelson’s ambush was the result of a mistaken identity. True or not, it remains a fact that the recent incident involving the violent and murderous killing of 57 people that included innocent lives is a much worst scenario and indicative of the “worst times, darkness and despair” that to my mind prevail today. What probably added to my depression was the fact that the innocent Lechonsito couple who were not part of the original targets and who apparently met violent deaths are family friends from Tacurong City who are close to me.

Yesterday, I realized there was nothing I could do but pray for the repose of their souls and hope that they get the justice they deserve.

This morning I woke up to the merry announcement by a television host that today is exactly 26 days before Christmas and that this coming Sunday is already the First Sunday of Advent. Almost immediately, the TV host followed it up with the news that today the government is finally honoring Efren Penaflorida in Malacanang. And my mind started to make the connections…

Almost everybody by now who reads the newspapers, watches television, and surfs the internet knows who Efren Penaflorida, Jr. is. He is the 27-year-old Filipino professional social worker and teacher, the CNN Hero of the Year who was cited for his innovative way of reaching out to the children of the slums in his native Cavite City.

In my desire to know more about him, I googled Efren’s name and found more than 800,000 references most of which relate the story of the beginnings of Dynamic Teen Company that he founded in 1997 initially giving tutorials in reading, writing and math to children in the slums in order to lure them away from a life of violence and crime in the streets among teen-age gangs. The program later evolved into a full-blown mobile mini school using volunteer teachers (former street children themselves) and what is familiar to the street kids in the slum areas – the pushcart or “kariton”. The rest is now, as they say, history.

I thought I found in the story of Efren the “best of times, “the season of Light, and the spring of Hope” that I was looking for at this time.

Today, as we approach advent some 27 days before Christmas, I dug from my files an old reflection on hope by Fr. James Keller, Maryknoll priest and founder of The Christophers. I find it very appropriate as we contemplate the story of Efren and the coming Advent and Christmas. It goes:

“Hope looks for the good in people instead of harping on the worst. Hope opens doors where despair closes them.

"Hope discovers what can be done instead of grumbling about what cannot. Hope draws its power from a deep trust in God and the basic goodness of human nature.

"Hope 'lights a candle' instead of 'cursing the darkness.' Hope regards problems, small or large, as opportunities.

"Hope cherishes no illusions, nor does it yield to cynicism. Hope sets big goals and is not frustrated by repeated difficulties or setbacks.

"Hope pushes ahead when it would be easy to quit. Hope puts up with modest gains, realizing that 'the longest journey starts with one step.'

"Hope accepts misunderstandings as the price for serving the greater good of others. Hope is a good loser because it has the divine assurance of final victory."

What more can I say? Efren Penaflorida’s story embodies all of these. Maybe, there is still hope for the Philippines after all!

Maddie

Today, an ordinary everyday miracle occurred. I would not have noticed it were it not for the fact that it is too close to home. I am referring to the birth of my granddaughter Maddie, my daughter Dana’s and her husband Marco’s first child.

Yes, I said that it is a miracle. No, it is not your kind of a miracle. Maddie was not conceived nor born under extraordinary circumstances. She was a healthy, normal, seven-pounder bouncing baby girl when she came out at around 2 am early today. And contrary to expectations, Dana was in labor for only a short period of time and had a relatively easy delivery compared to Thelma’s birth-giving history. But I still consider her birth just the same as a miracle.

For me, every birth is a miracle that has always brought me down to my knees in silent prayer to thank the Creator for the gift of life.

It is a miracle because the egg has to be there at the right time while one tiny sperm among thousands has to fertilize the egg. Then the resulting embryo has to stay planted in the uterus but not anywhere else, and not flushed away during the next menstrual cycle. The right hormones have to be produced by the mother and the right cell divisions must take place in the embryo. Finally, the fetus has to stay in the womb for the correct amount of time in order to be viable.

It is a miracle because how else can you call the amazing transition within seconds of a newborn from a water creature inside a woman’s uterus to an air-breathing baby at birth? How do you describe its transformation in nine months from an undefined tiny fetus to a full-blown baby capable of giving untold happiness to everyone by just a smile?

But the miracle does not end there at birth. It continues as Maddie grows up. It goes on as Marco and Dana in their role as co-creators mold her into the person she is meant to be in accordance with God’s plan, while the rest of us participate in this beautiful unfolding of the mystery of life that is given to Maddie.