Two weeks ago my 8yr. old son, Abram, and I hiked up the mountain directly in view from our front porch. We were headed out with our new friends, Nanding and Arlyn Ocaba to visit with some of the people and to share a reading or two from the Holy Bible. We experienced something special at every stop which is something I will never forget.
The hike started at around 8am. We started off on a concrete road that curved to the right just after leaving our town. Then the fun began. The dirt road was still a little soft from the rain the day before but still not awful. I could see how bad it could have been if it was a later rain. I remembered thinking of Oklahoma clay and how smooth it was. I also noticed that the path started to get narrower and narrower as we went on and soon we were all in single file.
We passed a young girl on her way to school going the opposite way. I said a good morning to her without even thinking about classes having already started about an hour ago. Then Nanding says in his quiet voice, “It's a sacrifice, going to school.” Wow! Here is a girl going to school in her clean uniform with dress shoes (not hiking boots) going down a mountain. It is a sacrifice going to school because there is no bus service and no guarantee of good weather. I also didn't know how long it actually took to get all the way up or down. At the end of the whole trip, we had hiked 8 km. So, in order for this girl to get to class and hike about 4km, she would have had to leave her house by 5am just as the sun is rising here, and not return until after dark! And what if it was slippery?!
We kept on and reached our first house visit. I say house but it was more like a one-room hut on stilts. A family of 4 lived there with the parents expecting their third child next month. They were cooking their lunch on their front porch which was the size of our balcony of our home in Kansas! I think our Master bedroom connected to that balcony was even bigger than their place! And we thought we needed that bigger home. We had so much! I forgot to write this family's name but I have kept them in prayer since especially for the safe delivery of their baby. They seemed happy even though they didn't have much cooking on the fire. After I stumbled through the reading in their native Visayan dialect, we all agreed how important it was to keep talking to God through all of our trials and sufferings.
We pushed a little further up the mountain and came upon a little “village”. I am not sure what it is called but it was a group of about 7-8 homes. Most of the men were out doing farm work while most of the women with their little ones were peeking through their windows to see what was up. We only talked to two women and a grandfather of one of them. We continued the theme of prayer in our lives and how God remains the same age to age. One of the women spoke of how her home needed repairs especially the roof. When she showed me her home, it seemed like everything was in order for the most part. The tin roof does need some work and I thought how easy it would be to patch the small holes with some sort of Bond-O or another plastic filler. She also talked about how they have to arrange themselves in order to avoid the drips in the night. Not much comfortable space left. Still, they manage and do what they must.
The next stop was more for our lungs. Climbing almost straight up takes your breath away. Then there's the view. Wow! If the view of the whole ocean is not enough, the sound of the small creek rushing down some rocks can get you refreshed within seconds. We refilled our canteens with the natural spring water for the rest of our way. We also visited a relative of the Ocaba family after this stop. No sooner had we introduced ourselves than the young man darted off to a coconut tree which he climbed in no time and hacked off about 10 green coconuts with his machete. So, we shared with his daughter a good snack of the “meat” of the coconut and its milk. God is good to His missionaries!
Our last stop was my favorite. Arlyn showed us the place where we were going which was in sight....straight up! We had to stop a few times to give our throbbing quads a rest. I slipped three times. The feeling of everyone looking at me while I was down was very humiliating. I tried to lessen the “lesson” by saying that “even Jesus fell down 3 times”. Then, I quickly remembered that all I had with me was a backpack on my healthy shoulders and not the weight of the world's sins on my beaten, blodied body. It turned out to be a good and final place to stop and rest. The house we visited up there was occupied by a very hospitable family. They were ready to serve us the same gifts(boiled sweet potatoes) we had brought to them from their neighbors at the last visit below! That's generosity! But what made this visit memorable was when Arlyn had asked if we could read from our Visayan Bible. They exchanged some words and I kind of picked up something that sounded like “What religion is he?” Arlyn correctly told them that we were Catholic and not to worry. Then the lady of the house said something else which to me sounded like “Oh, we are Iglesia Ni Cristo” a Protestant sect started by Filipinos. What she actually said was that Iglesia had just visited them recently. Immediately I thought “Oh, no! They beat us here!” Actually, she said that they were there and asked them to convert and be welcomed into their church. These people with great faith answered that they have always been Catholic as their parents and even their grandparents were. Wow! What a relief! So many others here, (just like in the U.S. and other places) have been quick to change, perhaps because they lack proper catechesis or because something “new” seems catchy. I praised God for keeping this family together and also the flock of all of His people through the generations. I shared with them how important it is to keep the same faith that we share with the Apostles and to stay safe within the walls of the Church... “the pillar and bullwark of truth” (1Timothy 3:15). I told them that the Catholic Church is the ONLY church that can trace all of the roots from the first leader, St. Peter, to the current in Pope Benedict XVI. If they were to ask all the others who started their church and when, they would come up with someone from the 13th century at the earliest. (Iglesia Ni Cristo only 97 years ago!)
As we were getting ready to leave, I admired this family's strength to persevere through the difficulties. Not only do they get just one Holy Mass per year, but their crops in the mountains are suffering with weak harvests. The only thing that they can rely on is their coconut harvest. Getting enough to fill a sack may be somewhat easy but going down the mountain with it while balancing it on your head and not falling is another story. It is a sacrifice living on this beautiful island and like Father Joe said just before we left the mainland, “Living on the island is no picnic. It's time to get to work.” Our work and your work is to preach the Gospel. Jesus needs us more than ever! Pray that we are able to continue our mountain ministry, a ministry that will hopefully include food distribution as well as more frequent sharing of Sacred Scripture in the hopes of building a stronger faith community among our hidden brothers and sisters.
Blessed is the man who endures trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him.--James 1:12
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