Listen…and You Shall Find!

                                                    MYLA, GINNY, & RINA

 

TERESITA TANSECO-CRUZ

People who inspire are usually known for an admirable accomplishment or two, for leadership or power to influence or promote a worthy cause, for exemplary virtue or generous service to others. Then there are those who are not known to have any of the above, or are not known at all. 

For many years now, I have had the privilege of being part of the Resilience Program (REPRO). This program serves at-risk youth in the journey towards the rediscovery of who God has meant them to be, and the restoration of their strayed dignity and sense of worth. This is where I have met Inspiration face to face, over and over.

The following vignettes represent countless others in the landscape of wounded adolescents who need to be ushered back in compassionate company to their rightful place among all of us, in this sacred circle called humanity…

Myla is drawing or writing in her Resilience Album, her “resilience takeaway ” from that day’s session, as everyone else is doing. Her face quietly animated, she hums to the meditative music we usually play at this segment. She is a shy, reserved 16-year old who nevertheless wished she could at least have greeted a teenage boy (a REPRO guest) who visited the center recently. She had noticed his gentle demeanor, the natural kindness that marked his interaction with the spirited youngsters vying for his attention. Too bad he only spoke English and Myla was not too confident with hers! She did enjoy the scene, watching cheerfully from the sidelines.

Myla could be any typical teenager, one might say. Except that she was not. She was gang-raped by her cousin and his cohorts. She had one blind eye, and her only family was a mother in jail, whose term was yet undetermined. That’s how Myla landed in the center.

Myla was attentive and engaged in the program. The turbulent assaults that had visited her life could not defeat her spirit. Her heart was glad to partake of kindness when she saw it. She could hum to “Tanging Yaman” and work on her album with an amazing look of tranquility. That’s what I was observing when my tears came. I believed that no matter the circumstances, Myla was cradled in God’s company.

So was Ginny, another participant in the group who, upon seeing me seated there in tears, came and put her arm gently around me, asking innocently: “ Malungkot ka ba, Ate Terry ?” ( Are you sad, Ate Terry?)

Ginny was around Myla’s age, but her intelligence had remained at childlike level. Her heart was beautifully uncomplicated, pure, giving. And with a simple question, she moved me to added tears in a way that a cascade of words could not have delivered. I told Ginny that I was crying because I was happy God was with us in the room. Her heart understood, her smile priceless.

And that is how we ended up in a joyous hug as Myla stayed immersed in her Resilience Album and God dispersed His graces on all of us. 

Then there was Rina. Another time, another center. It was the session where we ask the participants to describe a painful event in their lives and recognize the strength they didn’t realize they had.

Rina spoke of how, a few years previously, when the devastating flood “Ondoy” surged ferociously through Metro Manila and claimed hundreds of lives, it took her younger brother, too.

Rina and her two younger siblings begged in the streets. Their father had been a stroke victim and was physically disabled. Their mother could not provide them with a place to live in or food to live on. Now stricken with grief over her young son’s death, she succumbed to a stroke as well. Some people came to her aid, but the responsibility of burying her son at the public cemetery fell on daughter Rina’s shoulder.

Rina stood in line at the cemetery for 3 whole days to take her turn. She had found a small cart in which to pull her lifeless brother along for those three days. She watched his body decomposing into a horrible sight. Yet it neither repelled nor frightened her. It never dawned on her to question how she ended up with this “assignment.” All she could see was the brother for whom she felt so badly. She was extremely sorry for him that nobody had been able to save him from drowning. 

Shortly after this heartbreaking event, Rina’s father died, too. Once again, she found herself burying a loved one. This time, she felt more confident about filling out the forms and was relieved that there was no line.

And that is how Rina singlehandedly laid her brother and later her father, to rest, when she was 13. 

Rina, now 16, was living in a center run by nuns with her younger sister Ella. She described her painful experience in a calm voice tinged with sadness still. Yet, it was the palpable love for her brother that lent Rina such luminescence during the telling. She was also deeply thankful that her mother, now wheelchair-bound, could visit her and Ella periodically, with a kind volunteer assisting.

Again my tears came. Again it was from knowing that Rina was in God’s company, and His grace was upon us all in that room. 

The Lord’s presence in Myla, Ginny, and Rina came as surprise gifts to me bearing hope, compassion, courage, love, gratitude. Subtle, gliding through, yet undeniably compelling…without drama, only profound meaning and grace.

I imagine it was how the Lord had appeared to Elijah – not in the wind, earthquake, or fire, but in a soft whisper (1Kings 19:11-13).

Sometimes it’s easy to miss those brief, blessed “Elijah moments.” But they’re wondrously always just around the corner, through people who inspire because God apparently likes passing by, like a gentle breeze. I certainly have found many “gentle breezes” on this website.

I believe that if we listen with our hearts, with joy we shall keep finding!