To Wherever He Leads Me

Our nearly 24-hour overland trip to Tacloban City (in the central region of the Philippines) last January was not without the thought of experiencing discomfort, inconvenience, impatience, and other mishaps. But our objective of meeting the Holy Father in that typhoon-ravaged city weighed more than anticipating any hazards along the way. For us, to be where the Holy Shepherd leads us was our expression of deep Faith to our God Almighty. And if He, the Holy Father himself, insisted on proceeding with his Tacloban trip despite the impending typhoon “Amang,” then, who are we to question?

That was our strength.

There were 12 of us women pilgrims and it was an honor to be joined by 3 Missionaries of Charity Sisters, who “shepherd” us on the trip. Then there were 9 of us lay people, who didn’t all know one another, but were on the same quest for a once-in-a-lifetime chance to participate in welcoming the Pope and attending the Holy Mass. It was like going to St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican City in Rome.

We assembled at the Missionaries of Charity, Davao City on January 13 at around 1pm. Our first mishap came via a flat tire somewhere in Tagum City at 2:30 pm. It wasn’t anything serious but enough to brace ourselves for anything more to come.

Fortunately, we arrived safely at the Missionaries of Charity in Tacloban City on January 14, just in time for lunch.

A day after, we drove around to have an ocular of the places where the Holy Father would visit such as the mass graveyard where some of the 10,000 dead bodies were buried; at the airport where the Pope will say the Holy Mass; the Cathedral where the Pope will meet the Religious; the Bishop’s Palace; and Gen. MacArthur Landing Memorial National Park.

Security was very tight especially at the airport where the Holy Mass would be held the following morning. We were armed with our pilgrim IDs and sandwiches, to sustain us during the Vigil that started off at 6pm of January 16. Just getting past security took all of three hours and we ended up separated from each other. Luckily, cell phones were still working at that time and by 1:00 am, we were able to regroup and settle down in a quadrant that would fit 550 people. There were more than 122 quadrants to accommodate the estimated 75,000 pilgrims.

A few of us (the naughty ones) were able to sneak in one of the quadrants that was close to the altar — just behind the VIP section. We positioned ourselves by the heavy-steel railings and tried to catch a much-needed sleep under our thin, yellow raincoats because it started to rain by then. Some of us sat cross-legged on the concrete runway and tried to sleep sitting down, and others were lying on the ground like homeless people with no tents, no mats, no blankets, no umbrellas. Nothing that would make one look suspicious. By 2:30am, it was time to walk a hundred meters to answer the call of nature. Strangely, at that moment, it felt like everybody was thinking of doing the same thing at the same time.

Because, with no exaggeration, there were roughly 2,000 people lined up to get past their cue in the portable toilets. It was suggested that we wear pampers just like the security police who were not allowed to leave their posts. Apparently, most of us were not ready for that. Once again, the naughty ones managed to go behind parked police vehicles and covered each other to relieve our bladders. By the time we got back to our place, more local pilgrims had already swarmed in, such that we had to remain standing against the railway.

By 5:30am, the rain kept on pouring and the hazy sunrise made the sky a little brighter. Despite the dizziness, the dampness, the cold and hunger pangs, it was a big consolation to see a huge turnout of people, all in yellow raincoats; and all with one purpose: to be one with the Holy Father. Awesome. Amazing. Inspiring.

By 7am, the crowd’s excitement rose when it was announced that the pope would be arriving earlier than expected; and that, the Holy Mass would immediately commence thereafter.

When finally, the pope emerged from the airplane, the crowd roared. I was so touched that the Pope chose to be exposed in the rain just like all of us pilgrims. From then on, every act of his made us feel connected with him, just like the simple act of donning the thin, yellow raincoat.

It was with great anticipation that we listened to his homily. In tone and in words, he conveyed empathy for the suffering of the victims of “Typhoon Haiyan.” It did not sound like a sermon but a message of LOVE and oneness with those who suffered.

One may not be a survivor, but one could still be scarred with a storm of frustrations, doubts and trials in one’s daily life. In such a mystifying way, the Holy Father’s words came as a cleansing water for our spirit. He was able to reconnect one with Jesus as Lord and made one feel whole again.

The Holy Mass concelebrated by the Bishops did not end our encounter with the Holy Father. He soon made his rounds of the area to be closer to the people. Fortunately, he passed by us, not once but twice and the big crucifix of my mother that I was holding up, seem to catch the Pope’s eyes and the gesture of His Holiness’ blessing was the height of my ecstasy. Bunches of rosaries held with outstretched arms and other religious articles were blessed.

It has been over months now since we took that trip to Tacloban City. But the memories still linger in my mind and heart. And each time I think back I find myself reflecting deeper, as if my journey has not stopped. In fact it has moved on, in a different dimension. And I am beginning to love this journey, to wherever this leads me. I take comfort in my faith that the Holy Shepherd walks with me. (Alik Colet Azurin | MC co-worker)