Mihuros Ang Hangin

Well my time to the Philippines has come to a close. So it is with a heavy heart that I prepare to return to Canada. I cannot help but think that I may never have expected most of what I have experienced in the last 4 and a half months, but I would also not trade a single moment of it. I have been changed, and I hope that I remain so. I am leaving, but a piece of me is remaining here in the Philippines.
I began this journey with the idea of the Chinook and spirit moving me, and it is the same idea I again return to. Mihuros Ang Hangin is the Cuebeno phrase speaking of wind performing an action on earth. And that is the most apt description that I have ever come across. So as I await my plane, with the hope and prayer that Mihuros ang hangin will bring me back again one day – and old familiar hymn plays in my head….

Spirit, spirit of gentleness blow through the wilderness calling and free…. Spirit, spirit of restlessness, stir me from placidness, wind, wind on the sea.

One Body of Christ

During the last week of May the United Church of Christ in the Philippines (UCCP) held their 9th Quadrennial General Assembly. The week kicked off with opening worship followed by... a parade. Walking through the streets of downtown Dumaguete were around 500 delegates, Bishops, Pastors, and Observers - all of whom had come out to support the UCCP and to celebrate the new phase of the church. The elation of this first grand opening did not last throughout however. As with any church there was a mix of opinions and, naturally, some discord resulted. The ideas of what direction the UCCP should be taking differed quite widely. This discord, however, came from a place of love.
The theme of the assembly was "Discerning and Obeying God's will in these Critical times" Any difference of opinion arose from how best to do this. The love and passion that the people of the UCP have for their church and their country was evident. Knowing how to proceed and remain prophetic in a climate of fear from exra-judical killings (23 pastors and lay leaders in the UCCP have been killed under GMA - with no justice in sight) is nto a simple answer. The people of the UCCP are showing us in their attempt just what it means to be One Body of Christ.

And so we continue to stand in solidarity with them, and wish their new general Secretary Bishop Ruel Marigza well as they move in to their next quadrenium.

Prayer without words

There are many stories that have come out of election day - but this one I have to share. This video was taken by one of the PIOM groups here in the Philippines on May 10, 2010 - election day.




www.kodao.org

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yufgKrUwjas


Sometimes words fail and all that is left is prayer - prayer without words.

Guns, Goons, and Gold

*I wrote this immediately after the May 10 elections but have been unable to post it until now*


There is a saying here that is used to characterize elections in the Philippines - Guns, Goons and Gold. Having witnessed my first election here - I can see why - but I'd have to add a fourth G for Grit!

In Estancia, there is no mistaking the armed personnel presence. We did not enter a single polling location without passing by either members of the PNP, Barangay Police< Regional Mobile Group (RMG), or army, or some combination. All of whom were heavily armed, and whose loyalty was suspect.

And yet people showed up to vote.

Candidates reps. pressured voters with violence and intimidation to vote for THEIR candidate. They lined the streets outside the polling stations. Candidates went to vote with their private security forces (again armed) in tow.

And yet people showed up to vote.

Poor fisherfolk, often without enough to eat were provided with money to cast their vote in favor of specific candidates. 400 pesos (around $10) would mean feeding a family - in exchange for a vote.

And yet people showed up to vote.

Lines stretched out under the direct sun - some people having to wait for 12 hours in 40 degree heat in order to vote - and even then some were turned away, told they were not on any list and could NOT vote.

and yet people showed up to vote.

I don not have the words necessary to describe the determination I found in the Filipino voters today. And it makes me wonder...

What would you do to vote?

Fear VS. Faith

*I wrote this on May 9th, the evening before the election but was unable to post it until now*
Tomorrow morning at 7am the polls will open across the country and the Filipino people will be able to participate in the first ever automated elections here in the Philippines. All leadership positions form the local city council all the way up to the President are up for election or re-election. There is a chance, an opportunity for real and meaningful change. It should be a time of hope, optimism, and excitement.

But it isn't.

I'm in a small municipality, Estancia. It has been declared a "Hot Spot" for the elections. Previous elections saw heavy military presence and outbursts of violence.

This year there have been many reports of harassment including death threats, and acts of intimidation including grenade throwing and shootings. All of this for a mayor seat in a fishing town of around 40 thousand.

So, here there is an unofficial curfew of 8pm. While it has not been declared as a curfew - it is common knowledge that if you want to stay safe and avoid the gun battles, private militia, and corrupt PNP you don't go out past 8.

So why are we here?

Despite the palpable tension - and hint of fear in the air the PIOM lead by a group of dedicated Filipino volunteers are making preparations for tomorrow. We're visiting with the Comelec - and checking on the polling sites, ensuring the machines have been secured.

In this climate of fear - we the outsiders, impartial observers - are following a group of mostly youth and young adult volunteers as they walk in faith.

It is their faith that has us out on these almost deserted streets. One cannot help but be moved and overwhelmed by it.

So tomorrow morning - not really knowing what we will face - we will join in solidarity, and walk in faith against the fear.

Whistle While You Work...

For the last weekend in April I opted to go to the Christian Youth Fellowship (CYF) annual conference work and study summer camp rather than another exposure trip.

So halfway up the mountain in Milagrosa, Santa Catalina 50-60 youth descended upon a one room church. Some really got into the camping experience and brought only a tent and pillow - while others naturally came equipped with their air mattresses and laptops.

But when the time came to build the cement floor of that little church - every single one of them joined in.



They made new friends as they lived out the camp motto of "Bonding with God through Work and Play."

And youth being youth the world over - whether here in the Philippines or back home in Canada, they did manage to ensure there was play!

So besides the manual labour and intellectual labour (in bible studies and reflections)there was a talent show, Mr and Mrs. Summer camp Competition, and an Amazing Race.

The fun and camaraderie that began to build took on a unique expression on the final night at the Agape meal. There everyone joined in in feeding each other before themselves - all by hand - mouthfuls of rice and Pancit (noodles).



Throughout it all-laying in the tile cross in the floor - carrying sand, cement, rocks and water; racing through the hills, music filled the air.

So At first I thought of the old snow white song "Whistle while you work" - but the youth, as usual taught me something new. For it was invariably songs of praise and worship that filled that little church and spilled out to the surrounding village.

Thanks be to God!

Where The Stairs Lead

For Two days this April I spent some time in Vallencia, a town or small city up the mountain form Dumaguete. I had thought it was going to be for a series of meetings - but as luck would have it, it turned into more of a retreat, a chance to read, write,and enjoy my location.... And I took full advantage! One thing that the two locations I spent most of my time in had in common- was the number of stairs. Cassarorro falls is reached after 335 stairs. And the river behind the wellness center - also a large number of steep stairs.


But both of these staircases lead down. Every time I began climbing down these staircases an old song "Stairway to heaven" ran through my head. I even found myself singing it without even realizing. I had always imagined that staircase would lead up, somewhere in the sky or beyond. But when a butterfly landed on my hand - and stayed there for almost 20 minutes despite me moving - I was forced to consider an alternative. What if the real location of peace harmony, wholeness, was always supposed to be right here on earth? How differently would we treat our world and each other if instead of trying to make it to heaven - we tried to make heaven here? God's kingdom right here on earth?


When you picture the stairway to heaven - which way does it lead?

Holy Week - Faith by the Soles of my Feet

This year for Holy Week I discovered what it means to put our feet where your faith is.

It started with the triumphant entry on Palm Sunday. I went with Pastor Jerome to an outreach church in Pal-ew. Getting there requires over an hour long ride on a jubble jubble followed by a 45 minute long hike.
That's one aspect of Palm Sunday that I had never considered. Sure there's the triumphant entry - the Hosannas and celebration - but what about being hot and thirsty and tired from travelling - and not in a nice air conditioned car. Suddenly arriving at your destination is in of itself an accomplishment. And how much more welcome is such a greeting that Jesus received.

On Maunday Thursday I discovered a portion of how Peter felt. Tanjay church observes the tradition of feet washing. I was asked to participate. I found being able to wash the feet of the congregants to be a deeply spiritual and connecting moment. But when one member asked me to switch places - I balked. It was infinitely more difficult to be the subject of such an act. How much harder must it have been when Peter was faced with Jesus - his leader and teacher - asking to wash Peter's feet?

On Good Friday I again worshiped with the Tanjay congregation. The services of this congregation are 98% in Cuebueno. But on Good Friday, especially, it didn't matter. There with that congregation I joined in mourning and lament to the sound of the pounding in of the nails. We cried together - as one Christian family - mourning the death of Jesus, and our own place in it.

The evening of Holy Saturday found me on a beach at the foot of a cross with some youth from Sibulan Church. There with neither plan nor agenda we met and had a mini vigil. Nothing had been arranged beforehand - but there at the cross we could do little else.





Easter Sunday I was at the site of our sunrise service before dawn. This meant that I was present as people started to gather. I was there to feel the excitement and expectation in the air as people came together - and the sky began to get light. A bit later, when the sky was pink with the rising sun, I was there with the congregation to celebrate the Risen Christ with joy, exuberance, and in community.

This year - during Holy week I was blessed with the opportunity to walk the trail to warm welcome, wash the feet of followers of Jesus, mourn the sound of nails hammered into wood, watch and wait in the dark beneath the cross, and sing, dance and celebrate with true joy. This year I lived my faith by the soles of my feet.

Tuburan and a Jackfruit

This March I discovered the jack fruit - a most curious fruit.

March was international women's month. And so during this month I attended (and spoke at) several functions and activities by and for women.

One such group that I spent a week with was Tuburan. This is an NGO originally funded by Bishops of the UCCP. The mission of Tuburan is to organise women's groups in poor rural areas. And so the people of Tuburan, which means wellspring, go to the barangays where they teach the local women what an organisation is, how they can structure one themselves, and what their rights are. They talk about things like how to identify the needs in their community - and that they have the right to have a say in how many children they have.



When Tuburan came to one such barangay - the women would barely meet their eyes or share their names. When I met them they were preparing to deliver a presentation in song, dance, drama and speech to their barangay captain, the city mayor, and at least 200 other people. And they did - and were amazing! They held that audience captivated. The most surprised were the husbands. They could hardly believe that it was their wives up there on that stage.




Such was my reaction to the Jack fruit. the part you eat is a small yellow portion. It is very similar in size and shape to a jalapeno pepper. The whole fruit though is huge! and spiky! it is around the size of a watermelon. I never would have guessed where that little fruit had come from.

And so it is with so many women I have met. Seeing the amazing empowered people they are now - one can hardly imagine earlier events in their lives.

So here's to all the incredible women I have known - Who lead and guide and stand up fr us all - without even hinting at what the had to go through to become who they are now - and the sources of wellspring that helped!

Imagine...

There’s an old Beatles song – I’m sure you know it – Imagine. While I have always enjoyed the song, it is the Beatles after all, there’s a line in it that has bothered me – “Imagine there’s no religion”

Of course I am aware of all of the conflicts that have arisen because of religion. From petty arguments to wars between nations – the root cause can often be traced back to religious and faith differences.

But I have found a home in the United Church of Canada. And it was here that I came to better understand Christianity. It was here that my faith and relationship with God were nurtured. Religion can also be where great community and expressions of faith and love are found.

During March I spent an afternoon and evening with some individuals from Amnesty International Philippines Chapter. Here was a group of people coming together with no named religious ties – working together with different creeds and doctrines to end Human Rights Violations. When the struggle is to free the 48 health care workers illegally arrested – with little to no hope of a trial – what church or faith you belong to ceases to matter.



That evening at a table I had a conversation with a Pastor from Tanzania and a social worker from the Philippines. We discussed theology and mission and how our countries and churches were working for, and far too often failing to work for, Human Rights and Dignity.

So when that old Beatles song came on – there in that group I really could imagine that world – with all the people living their life in peace.

I can’t help but believe that this is God’s work. God won’t wait for His churches to respond – She will find servants and leaders elsewhere to bring about the kingdom of God.

Imagine – We can be a part of it too.

1.5 Litres

It was a beautiful morning, not yet muggy and hot from the heat of the day – and early, very early. 3 am early. And I was up and going for a hike – down a mountain, for 20 minutes.

Now what could possible get me - a decidedly non-morning person- to get up at such an hour you may wonder. The answer is simple, and yet also infinitely complicated.

Water.

The town in which I was staying, Aglahug, Jimalalud, has no water supply in the town proper. This means that everyone in the town has to walk down the mountain to the water pump to get their water. And with everyone sharing the one water source, there is a line up of people waiting to wash their clothes, take bathes, and collect water to bring back up the mountains for drinking and cooking. With the temperatures reaching the mid thirties in the afternoons, an afternoon trek for water is not a possibility as it could easily result in heat stroke. So by 4am there is a line-up waiting for water. And so the group of us headed out at 3am to beat the rush.

After filling all of our jugs and doing some laundry we climbed back up. I chose to carry water back up for a shower rather than bathing at the pump, as there was already a line forming. Since the water is scarce, and as much as is possible is needed for drinking and cooking, this translated into a shower with 1.5 liters of water.

The water supply also suffered a recent hit, in the form of a typhoid outbreak. This community was really in need of a better water source.

When the words of Jesus are spoken, promising living water and to never go thirsty, I can just picture the scandal and shock of such words. They are hard enough for us living in the west to understand and appreciate all that it means for our lives. How much more so for those for whom clean drinking water is a daily struggle – and far too often not a possibility? What an outrageous claim! And yet how much more hope and promise that it really holds. Such a life would be that much better. The possibilities and freedom that such a promise hold are suddenly all the more irresistible, and all the more necessary.

So as we all try to drink from the living well of the Risen Christ, I ask…

What did you last do with 1.5 liters of water?

Awaiting Justice

At the United Church of Christ it the Philippines in Sibulan there is something special happening. It is here that a family with a personal and private story has begun to change a congregation – and the way that congregation does ministry.

A few years ago now the son of one of the prominent families was arrested. He was arrested and jailed and charged with murder. Now the details of the case against him, and how it is that he was arrested are bad enough and in and of themselves make one wonder how this family can stand the injustice. But the real kicker is – he was left in jail to await his trial. And he has been there, waiting for that same trial to finish, for almost four years.

I was stunned when I heard that. One semester away from graduating as a Pastor this man was taken away – and there he has remained ever since.

However this is not the end of the story, but just the beginning. Since his arrest a new type of ministry has begun from his home congregation. The members, with the support of the pastor, began a jail ministry. They started up and now continue to run a weekly bible study and time of fellowship for both the male and female inmates. So at least twice a week, members of the congregation are going to the jail to meet with those who are locked up there – all of them awaiting their trials.




When Jesus told the disciples to bring the good news to the captives, or to those imprisoned – I can’t imagine a better manifestation of it than this. These people are being told with actions week in and week out that they have not been forgotten by everyone. That they are still worthy of God’s loving care and attention.

The outpouring of love and care from this one congregation to a previously mostly forgotten and abandoned population is a remainder to us all that even in the worst of situations – when some of the most grievous injustice is occurring – God can and will find a way in. God will work with us and through us to reach the people most in need.

A new hope and new possibilities and new community are being formed between and among the inmates and the congregants of Sibulan Church. And all while awaiting justice.

On the Road to Peace

On February 25th I was able to participate in one of the most exciting processes I have ever encountered. Dialogue Mindanao.

One of the regions of the Philippines, Mindanao, is the site of the most conflict within the country. It is here where the recent massacre occurred, and where most of the unlawful arrests and extra Judicial killings occur. This is where the highest military presence is found, and where foreigners are told to not go. It is also the home to many. There are many peaceful farmers, teachers, pastors and citizens who get caught in the middle of the struggle between a few rebel groups and the National Government.

One conflict that has been continuing for decades is between the Government of the Republic of the Philippines (GRP) and the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF). This is a group that has been struggling for independence for 500 years. Peace talks between these two groups have been going on and off for 50 years. With this current round, the voice of the people is to be included. This means that leaders form various sectors, media, journalists, churches, NGO’s, as well as youth, are being invited to forums taking places in different regions to discuss the options, hear the issues and offer any insight that they might have.




At Silliman University there is a Justice and Peace Center run by the divinity school. It was through this school that I received an invitation to attend one of these forums. Our trip to Bacolod could not have better represented the overall peace process! We were an odd group that gathered in that van, youth, pastors, a journalist, and academics – but we were all trying to make it to the same place. Along the road we certainly hit our share of bumps. We had a flat tire – and then later than broke down altogether at about the halfway point. So we had to find another way to make it to where we were going. And we did. With the help of several other individuals we made it to the bus and eventually to the peace talks.



I don’t know if this round of peace talks will be the one that finally succeeds – but in that room with over 300 participants of different ages and beliefs coming together to try to find a way without violence there is hope. The still small voice of God is being heard. God has heard Her people crying, and there are leaders from all over trying to answer the call. I am sure there are many more bumps to go – but we are on the road to peace.

Life Around the Well

For ten days I went up the mountain. Literally. I took a bus to Santa Catalina and then a Jubble-Jubble up the mountain – to darn near the top. The view was inspiring, and the trip a bit terrifying! Once there I was integrated into the community. This is a very poor community of mostly farmers. They have very little land on which to grow anything – and it is not very close to town. So, in the family I stayed with, Nemrod and his wife went to work and their kids (seven of them) stayed with his father in town in order to go to school – a real privilege. No one up there spoke much English, and my Cuebueno is still in baby stages so communication was extremely difficult. But even without language I quickly learned that the center of the community it town was the water pump. Here the women would gather to wash clothes and young children, the older kids would do their own laundry and visit and bath after school to cool themselves in the heat of the day. There was visiting and gossip and a chance to catch up and get to know one another as the work of the morning and day was done.

It was very hard for me to try to fit into this community. I was the only Caucasian person most of them had ever - or would ever - see outside of in movies. It was a little like being a celebrity or having the plague – as I was watched and stared at and tended to develop a following of small children wherever I went – but everyone was very shy and did not want to try to talk to me or to get too close.




Except at the water pump. Here I also took my bathes, washed my clothes and helped to wash the younger children. Suddenly all of the texts about gatherings at the well were coming alive. When Jesus met the woman at the well, or when Jacob met Rachel, or Abraham’s servant went to find a wife for Isaac and encountered Rebekah. Suddenly I could see it all unfolding before my eyes. Life happened right there at the well – and in Cakha, life was lived around the town water pump. Life was much simpler up there. When there was work, everyone pitched in – and when there wasn’t everyone gathered to visit and stay in community. If a movie was playing, all the children who heard it starting would come on in to watch. The gunfire in the distance mattered less when everyone they cared about was sleeping right next to them.

I was blessed to have been a part of such a tight-knit and loving community and family – even for ten short days.

Fishers of Men

In my first week in Negros conference I have begun to settle in at Tanjay. I have once again been welcomed with great hospitality. Here I have met the family I am staying with, Pastor Jerome, his wife Ate. Jean and their two young sons Abyan and Dasig. I have also met some of my new roommates – the lizards that eat the mosquitoes – so yay for the lizards! Their home will be my home base for the next four months as I move about the conference getting to know the people and the work that is being done here.
In addition to attempting to help me with my Cuebueno Pastor Jerome and Ate. Jean have also been helping me to become better acquainted with the situation of the local community. So we spent a morning down at the beach. Here we got to take in the beautiful scenery and the ocean and the sight of Cebu across the straight. We also met some of the poorest congregants of UCCP Tanjay, the fisherman and their families who live on the beach – as squatters. We even went out with one of the fisherman in his boat to get a bit of a feel for the work that he does, and the conditions under which they are done. Never has the passage in which Jesus asks the fisherman to leave their nets in order to follow him struck more deeply. The cost of that decision to the lives and families can be seen here among these people and the children and youth who come to help the fishermen bring in their catch and then take it to sell at the market. It is more than just their job – it is the lifestyle and livelihood of the entire family. To become fishers of men is a humbling and awe inspiring image here.



In addition to the trip to the beach we took a trip up the island to see the harvesting of the sugar cane. I even had my first taste of the sugar cane. It was very sweet – and very hard on my jaw! We saw the loading of the truck and moved further up the island where we saw the sugar cane mill and what unregulated production can look like. It was a painful and discouraging sight to see the pollution entering the air with the gorgeous backdrop of the mountain behind it.
I have also been introduced to some of the members of UCCP Tanjay congregation – and am getting to know this loving and welcoming community, which is in many ways more like a family than simply a church congregation. I am looking forward to further journeying with them over the next four months.
In addition to the trip to the beach we took a trip up the island to see the harvesting of the sugar cane. I even had my first taste of the sugar cane. It was very sweet – and very hard on my jaw! We saw the loading of the truck and moved further up the island where we saw the sugar cane mill and what unregulated production can look like. It was a painful and discouraging sight to see the pollution entering the air with the gorgeous backdrop of the mountain behind it.
I have also been introduced to some of the members of UCCP Tanjay congregation – and am getting to know this loving and welcoming community, which is in many ways more like a family than simply a church congregation. I am looking forward to further journeying with them over the next four months.

Life Under the Mango Tree

Life here in the Philippines is in many ways similar to that of life back home in Alberta –and in many ways very different as well! I have been accepted with great hospitality and patience into the home of Ate. Amy. It has quickly become a home away from home. The roosters crowing in the morning are now a welcome wakeup call, and the mangoes thudding onto the roof in the middle of the night are a reminder that there will be fresh fruit in the morning.
I have spent some time getting to know the people in the UCCP national office, who are all very patient with me as I struggle with the first steps in my Cuebueno lessons.
I was received by the UCCP National church and commissioned to my work in the Negros conference by the General Secretary Bishop Pascua himself! I was sent off with a stole, Cuebuen bible, history books, Malong and tsinelas (sandals).
Never have I felt more at home here though, than in worship. It is amazing that no matter what language is being spoken, praising God feels like home. I may not understand the prayers, or the hymns, or the majority of the sermon, but that seems to matter a lot less than I had thought it would. The Spirit moving in and through these congregations is palpable even without the language.
I had the opportunity one Sunday to worship at Ellenwood United Church – the very first UCCP church where the basis of union was signed. And the church geek in me rejoiced!

...To a Missionary

Week two was spent with a dramatic difference. This week was spent on exposure activities. The first of these was a trip to Smokey Mountain. This is a site in Tondo where the UCCP church of Tondo has its outreach program, a daycare/school. What makes this school so different is that Smokey Mountain is a dump. The community being served is the village of people that live on the dumpsite. They survive by scavenging for bits of plastic and metal that can be sold to a middleman and then a junkshop. All members of the family undertake this work. Because of new bi-laws, the dumping is now taking place directly on barges, and so those scavenging must go out onto the barges as well. When Tondo church asked the community what they needed, the response was a daycare/ school. So that is what was set up. Thanks to this initiative there are now other NGO’s and church groups setting up health centers, schools, and providing building supplies to strengthen homes, as well as a source of water.
My second exposure activity was at the SINAG center. This is an inner-city ministry set up to serve disadvantaged and exploited women and children. This is a ministry of love. To show the women that they are loved and beloved children of God and there is another way – an alternative. Finding that actual alternative is a challenge - working with women in extreme economic difficulties trying to support families. It is challenging and heartbreaking work done with extreme care and love.
My third trip was to visit the Nestle workers. These are the union workers who had gone on strike 8 years ago when contract negations fell apart over retirement funding. While on strike they were all laid off. They have been fighting for their rights in and out of court and on the streets ever since. Even after their Union leader was killed, they continue their struggle.
Between these three exposures I have begun to see the other face of the Philippines, and the other face of globalization at work. It is challenging and heartbreaking and maddening to see the injustice after injustice being faced with grace and opposition. And it has been extremely humbling to see the Spirit moving and working and struggling in and amongst the people. God has heard her children crying out.

From a Tourist...

My first two weeks in the Philippines were spent in Manila. Here I began my introduction to the Filipino culture and lifestyle and to the works of the UCCP. My first week was spent in a mix of class lessons and tourism type experiences. I made it to the major spots in Malate Manila, including Luneta Park – home of the Filipino national hero Rizal. His statue can be found throughout the Philippines, in town squares, parks, and the like. Luneta Park is the home of his execution site and contains his burial location as well.
I also made it to IntraMuros (The Walled city) where I visited Fort Santiago which was used by the Spanish, The Americans, and the Japanese at differing times for the holding, torture and execution of Filipinos. This is where Rizal was jailed leading up to his execution. I also visited the church of an order of St. Augustine. It has since been converted into a gorgeous museum telling of the history of the order and Christianity in the Philippines. I also visited basilica De Manila – a catholic church that has had to be rebuilt 7 times because of earthquakes and wars.
While touring I have been making use of the wide variety of transportation methods. The pedicab (a bike with side car attached), the jeepney, the LRT, the taxi, and the tricycle (motorcycle with covered side car). With all of the traffic in Malate Manila, I hope I never have to drive while I am here!
The tourist in me has rejoiced at the opportunity to see some of the city and its history and to begin an acquaintance with the way of life here. I am eternally grateful that the UCCP especially Ate. Amy and Ate. Joyce have taken me under their wing in order to begin my introduction to the city with an easing into things

The Initial Gust

Well I am sitting here in the Toronto Airport awaiting my flight to board, and I can't help but reflect on the journey that has gotten me to this point. Despite the fact that I have not actually left the country yet... it has been quite the trip. For the past two weeks I have been housed at the Scarborough Mission Center by the Canadian Churches Forum for an orientation on global ministry. There were moments of inspiration, doubt and occasionally surprise. The most memorable moment, however came on the very last morning. I had gone to mass and was late for breakfast. So rather than sit with the other program participants as I usually had, I sat with one of the residents (a retired priest form the missionary order). It turned out that this man had spent fifteen years in the Philippines. I was blown away! What a great way to end the two weeks with some practical and humorous advice. Looks like God is really looking out for me. So I accept this initial gust of breath from the Spirit and allow it to hearten me as I prepare to board the longest flight I've ever been on and bid Canada goodbye.