Nuebe: The Miracle of Misa De Gallo

In the early morning darkness, my maternal Grandmother would wake me up, tell me to hurry lest we be late. We crossed a bamboo floating bridge over a creek, and carefully treaded over rice paddies in San Luis Pampanga. With many other people and with candles as our only light, we looked like marching fireflies. I have a vague memory of a well lit church and songs I do not understand.

Circa, my Mom. With veil and prayer book, my Mom would go ahead of us in her fast-paced steps, to get seats before more people arrived. We, six siblings were named alphabetically.

Sometimes her prayer book and stampitas came in handy to reserve the seats for brothers C and F. She never missed the puto bumbong, and palitaw to match her batidor-mixed native chocolate drink treat at home.

Fast forward, my time. More than the alarm clock, my nagging, an occasional pull or pinch, woke my children up. Sleepiness overpowered the excited plans of the night before. Half awake and half asleep, they drowsily carried their plastic chairs. On the way to our space, they would awaken to the joyous atmosphere of vendors around the church, mentally noting their choices for after the mass. As if on cue, they would off and on be zzzzzzzzzzing from the homily till just before the holy communion.

Like perfect clockwork, they would all be awake just before the mass ended. Food!

It was not like this as they grew older. There were times when they were awake ahead of me, and nudged me or Dad as our heads went whichever way while seated, sans snoring. (I still wonder at my husband’s mastery of napping while standing with just a shoulder leaning on a wall.)

We often traveled overland to Manila during the summer and Christmas. One particular Christmas, we felt regretfully sad we could not complete the Misa de Gallo we started. Too early for the mass in our parish, we chanced upon a mass past Tibungco.

In Leyte, our drivers needed to rest so we parked by an elementary school. After a short wink, we were awakened by chattering people who were on their way to mass!

We joyfully hummed the familiar songs sang in waray. In our early breakfast stop in Naga, I asked a lady for directions. She told us the landmarks on the highway we were to take, and it happened she was going that way. We dropped her in a convent where a mass just started!

On our way to our Las Piñas house, there was a second Misa de Gallo in a church in Almanza. Though tired from the trip, we were bursting with joy and thankfulness to have completed the masses.

I treasure these memories; the preparations the night before, the rush to the bathroom, the friendly greetings on the way, parents carrying sleeping children (babies even!), courteous offer of church seats, more orderly communion lines. I love that we were kinder to each other, we were smiling a lot more. During these masses, we were truly a family and community, of and for God.

God walked me through mere curiosity of the baby who caused church bells to peal and brighten church with lights, to asking for favors for exams and a boyfriend, to cries of despair in a marriage and pleas for healing and wholeness.

Now, that baby has become my best friend, confessor, counselor, healer, provider, miracle-worker.

Personally, I make a general confession during these masses, begging God’s mercy to have a clean heart before another year starts. I lift in forgiveness all those who made me sin, and blessed those who I caused to sin. My change of heart can only come from a miracle-giving God. To God be all glory forever! (Bella A. Sarenas)