Desiderata

300 Spiritans

Prayer of Children

Take The Right Dosage

I have been coughing for like two months now. For two months also I kept disturbing the doctors in our school clinic. This morning I went again for another consultation. The Doctor asked me “Did you take all the medicines I asked you to take for one week?” “Uhho!..uhho! Yes doc!” (coughing) I answered. “I got some of them cheaper from the Generic Pharmacy”, I added. She replied, “Generic Medicine are good but did you know that if generic, the one I prescribed to you should be twice a day instead of once?” “No I did not”, I answered. Then she said, “No wonder why you are still coughing, it is not enough to take the right medicine, you also have to take the right dosage.”

I was struck by his last sentence. I believe that taking the right dosage is not only for the physical sickness but for the spiritual and other aspects of life as well. Some of us may be praying every single day but because we are too busy for other concerns we spent too little time for prayer and too little time for paying attention to God’s manifestation in every events and people we encounter. And then we wonder why still we are spiritually sick. We stagnate. We are not at peace. We don’t grow in our relationship with God, and we don’t enjoy our relationship and companionship with the other members of our family or community. It is simple because even though we take the right medicine (prayer), we failed to take the right dosage. I know a father who complains about how ungrateful his son is, when he loves him so much and has given him “everything” he needs. But the word “everything” does not include time, affection, listening, tenderness and concern. In other words, “underdose”, he can’t expect healing.

You know what, while writing this article, I’m still coughing but fully aware that to cure any sickness in any aspects of life,it is not enough to take the right medicine but also the right dosage.

God Comes in Many Forms

By Dennis P. Casanes, C.S.Sp.

While going to Loyola School of Theology, I shared with my classmate my weekend experiences in ministry. After listening to me attentively, he asked me, “Den, how would you explain to the people at your ministry site our class discussion about the notion of ‘ex opera operatum’ or the idea of a historical-critical method of understanding the Bible? “ I replied, somewhat startled, “Hmm..ahh.” I failed that quiz! I just couldn’t answer him. Later, I’ll explain why.

To explain and understand those concepts in theology we need theological language, PhD professors, books, deep reflections and eloquent words, because they are necessary, but those with whom I minister don’t need those to understand clearly my message. I remember St. Francis saying, “Preach the Gospel always…if necessary, use words too.” Then, my friend added, “What about you, have you understood their language?”

I do my apostolate in Guanellian’s Center, a welcome house that cares for abandoned persons with disabilities, indigent elderly, abandoned children and youth. The center is run by the Congregation of the Servants of Charity (Guanellians), who are called to be witnesses of God’s love and the sacred value of each person, even to the most challenged. The Spiritan mission in the Church “…to go to those whose needs are the greatest and to the oppressed” (SRL, 4), humbly collaborates with the Guanellians through my apostolic work every other Saturday afternoon till the following Sunday. As a Spiritan, through this apostolate I am called to listen to God as God becomes manifest through every person and event I meet in Guanellian’s Center, and so grow more deeply in my personal relationship with God.

My friend’s question kept haunting me, “Have you understood their language?” I remember my first day with those wonderful people. Albert, (the social worker in-charge) asked me to keep an eye on Michael. When I saw which one was Michael, without hesitation I said “sure”! Right away I appreciated his kindness, I thought he realized that I was new and because of that, he gave me an easy thing to do. Michael is always in his wheelchair because he has a cerebral palsy. Though his mind functions well, physically, he is badly deformed. He cannot move around the compound without someone pushing him. For about an hour we just watched T.V., and then suddenly I noticed Michael shaking his whole body, moving the wheelchair back and forth and saying “bhnnn haammm”, repeatedly. He gazed at me with his one eye looking on the ceiling and the other on the floor. I ran to the social worker and said, “Michael wants something but I don’t know what!” We came back together, then he asked Michael what he wanted. Michael said, “bhnnn haammm”. After listening to Michael, he said, “Ah ok, you get use to those words, it means he wants to go to the bathroom, you can bring him there now. I suppose you know what it means if he goes to bathroom, you have to wash him and clean him after.” I said, “You mean I will wash the hmmm?” “Yes, including the hmmm” he replied. Well, I did it anyway.

That was also the first time I assisted Michael during meals. It took us 45 minutes to finish his lunch. From the plate I filled the spoon with food; half reached inside his mouth and the other half the floor. A few minutes after he had his lunch, sitting in one corner of the living room, I saw Michael again shaking his whole body, moving the wheelchair back and forth and saying “bhnnn haamm”. I dropped my jaw, rolled my eyes and said to myself, “Whaaaaat? Bhnnn haamm again? I learned that vocabulary this morning, you don’t have to teach that to me again now”, I said quietly. I took a deep breath when I found out, through Albert, that Michael only wanted to sleep. I asked him why it had a different meaning when Michael performed the same gesture and pronounced the same word. He said, “Did you not notice that Michael’s second “haamm” is one “m” shorter than the first one?” I said, “Huh?” Then leaving me behind, he said, “Yes, that is why it has a different meaning, and you have to learn that word too.”

My teachers come in many ways and forms. Michael taught me that sometimes things may appear the same, sound the same, but mean different things. It’s amazing what can happen when I put myself in an open, learning, and receptive mode. Simple experiences, like the times when I feel that a particular day was just a repetition of other past days, can be very tiring. When what I do seems to be boring and uninteresting for the reason that I have been doing it over and over again, God shows me that I can never do the same thing twice, if only I put my heart into it and listen carefully. God sometimes lets me experience a single event seven times yet wants seven different ways for me to experience it. God can send me the same people to be with every single day, from sunrise to sunset, and I still get excited to meet those same people again tomorrow morning because every single day through the same people God’s invitation to discover and to love and be loved by God comes in entirely various and different ways. Michael made me realize that it is only through listening and opening my heart to the voice of the Holy Spirit that what seems to be the same, uninteresting and boring repetition is actually one “m” shorter than that before, and therefore new and exciting.

All the residents in the center live as one true community. I was so touched one morning when I observed how interdependent they are. There is only one full time worker to accompany and to look after them. A few volunteers like me just drop by from time to time or stay overnight. Most of the time, they take care of each other. They have learned the value of interdependence. For instance, Val (in his wheelchair) takes care of cooking rice and doing the dishes after meals. Thomas and Raphy (Down Syndrome), sweep and mop the floor after every meal, they also take turns washing the clothes every Tuesday. Michael, (Cerebral Palsy) though he is in his wheel chair, physically deformed, takes care of wiping the table after lunch. Usually it takes him an hour to finish wiping the two small tables. No rush… slowly but surely! The first time I saw him I wanted to help, knowing that one minute would be too long for me to do it. He pulled back the rug, because he cannot speak, it was his way of saying to me “Do you think I’m crippled?” I was tempted to say, “Yes, you are, Michael!” In a word, each of them knows that if left alone, no one would survive, but each of them also knows that if they all work together, nothing is impossible.

I remember one morning I assisted Danny, Eman and Sam-Sam in taking their bath. Being my first time I didn’t know what to do. So, I grabbed the soap and shampoo, turned on the shower and washed them clean. After that, I brushed their teeth, combed their hair and dressed them elegantly for Mass - all by myself. I thought I was doing great until Albert asked me to do it better next time, in such a way that in the long run, even without me they can manage themselves to do all those I was doing for them.

The next time I was there, I tried another strategy, “the sustainable strategy”. Instead of doing it myself, I allowed them to do it by themselves and my role was only to guide. I said to Eman, “Take off your clothes, then you turn on the shower, I’ll give you the soap and scrub, you put soap on your body then you scrub it from head to toe; easy, isn’t it?” Guess what happened? He looked at me and suddenly broke into the “Papaya Dance,” an animated children’s dance with wild gestures, then after he laughed loudly. I bit my lip. I realized my first attempt for “the sustainable strategy” hadn’t worked; he understood nothing of my instructions. I had to repeat all the instructions, but this time the guidance was closer and more detailed. I turned on the shower a little, just enough for the water to slowly flow, I took his hand and together we fully turned on the shower. The water flowed to the max that both of us were dripping wet. I showed him the soap and the body scrub. I asked him to hold the soap in his right hand and the body scrub in his left. I took his hands, one after the other, and together we soaped and scrubbed the whole body, while naming every part like “Ok, now we are scrubbing your neck, arms and so on.” Amazingly, after three months, though I still get wet, I observe great improvement.

Another memorable experience of a resident in the center was with an old man, Tatay (which means “Daddy”) Tonio. He was abandoned and marginalized. He was not born disabled but an accident made him so. He used to be young, strong and healthy. He had a family and friends. One day, a 4x4 truck accidentally ran him over and he was dragged under. Luckily, he survived, but unfortunately he had broken some of his bones. The strong and healthy man was now in a wheelchair, disabled and abandoned by his family and friends. About five years after that incident, just when he was about to accept the tragedy that happened to him, an epileptic seizure struck him badly. He became unconscious and totally dependent on the people who took care of him in the Guanellian’s Center. He stayed there for more than ten years, and in that long period of time, not a single relative or friend came to visit him. Last week when I visited the center, I found out that only a few hours before I arrived he had passed away.

While writing this, I couldn’t help but recall the moments I was with him: the time I had to sing the popular hip-hop song, “Nobody, Nobody But You”, just for him to open his mouth so I could quickly slip in a spoonful of food; the time I had to put his medicine inside bread because he didn’t like it, only to find out that a few moments later he would throw away the bread, perhaps he noticed that there was something wrong with it.

The last time I saw Tatay Tonio, he was inside his coffin and all I had to say to him was “Tatay Toneo, regards to our Papa”.

The life of Tatay Tonio was for me a perfect example of total dependence and abandonment of one’s life to God’s providence. After he had the accident, he had no family to take care for him. He had no friends to share how difficult and frustrating it was for him to experience such a life tragedy. Yet God never abandoned him. All the time Tatay was in the center, he was filled with God’s love and care though the people he met there.

It has been about five months now since I started my ministry with the people in Guanillian’s Center, humbly trying to radiate God’s care and love for them, but my service has been nothing compared to what I have actually learned about life and God: that to live life fully is not to be totally independent, not only to be rational and have a functional body. The people of the center know how it is to be human. They realize that we are all interconnected and interdependent. We cannot live alone. In one way or another, we are all crippled, some physically, some spiritually, some emotionally, and some others psychologically; and we all need others to fill in and heal that disability.

I thank God for teaching me so much, right where I was, for giving me the opportunity to experience the profound honor of momentarily being God’s instrument, to protect, influence and be influenced by the life of Guanillian Center’s residents.