To those who have not known yet, five years ago I wanted to become a nun. At that time, that was what I think and feel God was calling me to do. The life of the religious that I have personally witnessed awakened in me a familiar desire not alien to my own fervent longing to serve.
If I had chosen to pursue that desire, I would have been in the convent by now, doing and making my aspirations a reality. But for more than two years that I had discerned, things had unfolded itself and I was shown a path, possibly the one true path I am called to live in this lifetime.
God has a way of showing me where to tread. I am currently making my way through unbeaten paths which may seem unlikely for me to outlive but at the end of my daily journey, I realized it is not my feet that’s paving the way for me to see where the paths lead, but God.
I have not been quite active in church activities lately. I seldom go to Totus Tuus Journey sessions at Montfort or visit the Daughters of Wisdom convent to check how the nuns had been. There shouldn’t be any excuse for this that is why I feel bad for drifting away from the company that had etched a special place in my heart for years.
The people, the place—all of it—they seem too far now, or late to reach out again as the moments drift faster away than I could ever manage to catch up, though I need not to. I once left pieces of my heart in those places. I once thrived because I knew some people where there willing to pick me up from my brokenness and make me whole again. I laughed and cried with every good and not-so-good memory I had been blessed to share with some of them.
The occasional detachment will not last long I know, but until I make it a point to find time to squeeze them again into the present life, I shall feel contented being reminded of what life was before Woven.
A life devoted to service cannot be possible if without grace to sustain the flame. My fire has not been completely extinguished but when it becomes too overwhelming too bear, that’s when I push myself back to get a fuller view of things.
The sight of the smiling foreign nun I often see on my way to work everyday—who always sees to it every passenger gets a fair share of space in the jeepney, our dear Sister Carol—who despite her completeness, makes my heart ache for something stronger and heart-wrenching than just what compassion can bring, by her works and gestures of gratitude and simplicity— they make me see and feel always connected to the home I have become occasionally estranged from.
When these emotions befall, realizations came crushing in to remind me that I needed not where I had been before to experience God for He is with me. Yes, all this time.