Me Time

It's just a day before Holy Week as I write this piece. Amidst the snow that has been pouring unabatedly from the skies since the wee hours of the morning,  I read with interest today's Gospel reading wherein Jesus hid Himself in a place called Ephraim before proceeding to Jersulem to be hailed as King on Palm Sunday and condemned as a criminal on Good Friday. As He hid in the desert before His public ministry, so He hid in Ephraim (which so happened to be near the desert) before the start of His Passion, Death, and Resurrection.

 

In spite of being a busy, itinerant preacher cum healer, Jesus made sure He had that 'me time'. Jesus was always in communion with His Father.  His disciples would attest how they found Him in a deserted place praying or how He Himself encouraged them to go to a deserted place to rest. For Jesus, rest is important even if it's a brief one. 

 

During my first retreat ages ago, the retreat master explained to us that  just as soldiers in war retreat to assess themselves and make a better plan of action, so must we examine ourselves and make better our conduct in life. By going 'on retreat' to Ephraim, Jesus wanted to give a closer and harder look at what He has already done and how He could have made it better so as to fulfill the Father's will. 

 

For a couple of Thursdays, I have been visiting the Blessed Sacrament at the St Barnabas Cathedral, a few minutes' walk from where I work.  The Blessed Sacrament is exposed for a few hours and then towards the end of the vigil, a basket full of pieces of paper with names of sick and dying persons is placed near the altar.  Once this is done, the Rosary is recited. 

 

On the first Thursday that I made the visit, I was a bit hesitant to stay on. I was thinking that I need to have my lunch. I was thinking of the long list I have to do in the office. My mind was trying to go somewhere else.  Yet, for some reason, the lovely countenance of the exposed Blessed Sacrament held me to stay put.  When the sacred host was put back in the tabernacle, I left the cathedral refreshed.

 

I'm very grateful to the Lord for giving me the chance to visit Him. I felt that this is one of the devotions that I have neglected for a number of years already.  I wish to carry it on, with God's grace and blessing. It was indeed a 'Me Time' for me. A chance to present my poor, humble self to the Lord and allow Him to clothe me in His love.  Though we are sinners, it is still His love that conquers all. It's His love that matters!

 

God keeps on calling us no matter what or when.  He's there in the quiet of our hearts. As we usher in Holy Week, let's be more attentive to the Lord's invitation. One with Jesus, our Saviour and King, let's return to the Father's embrace and be empowered so that we may lovingly welcome the Judas, Barabas, Hestas (if I may borrow Dona Delila's common expression) in our midst, fearlessly face the mob that is eager to devour us, and patiently carry our crosses.

 

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Today marks the 44th death anniversary of a grandmother that I have never known, save for some accounts told and retold by my elders: Laureana "Lola Osay" Samaniego, my mother's mother.  I was told that Lola Osay used to chant the Pasyong Mahal in the village chapel in Wakas, Kawit, Cavite.  That was a devotion she passed on to Mommy Rosie (Mama's older sister). Mommy Rosie would later pass it on to me.  In a way, her faith continues to thrive in her heirs.  May God bless your kind soul, Lola Osay! We love you.