Cotabato Life: God's Handholding

 A sanctuary discovered (Arch. Mongeau chapel, Notre Dame University: November 2018) 

This is the third time I am using a photo of the Notre Dame University chapel in the last 10 months. Needless to say, it has become a significant facet of my Cotabato life.  

As I wrap up my work in Cotabato City, I find myself reminiscing my first few months  and my struggles to create a temporary hearth here. While chatting with my good friend, K, last night, I said that among the things I'll miss about my life here is being just a few steps away from the chapel.  It is more than just the convenience of having a chapel close by that I'll miss though, but the liturgy and the Presence that I find hard to describe. I told K that this is the first year in ages that I attended masses every single Sunday. 

I still remember my second day in Cotabato City. I was billeted in a hotel and went to mass at the cathedral.  I was shocked to find lots of empty seats because, where I came from, there was never a Sunday when the basilica, which was twice larger than the cathedral here, would have empty seats.  It was SRO, no matter what mass schedule. The reality that I was now in a Muslim county hit me hard then. More than the empty seats in the church though, what I still vividly remember about that Sunday was how tears streamed down my face throughout the mass.  I was filled with fear, anxiety, and sadness, but somehow the mass reminded me that I wasn't totally uprooted and alone. 

Moving to what would become my permanent residence in this new world, I would find a sanctuary in the university chapel. As I told K, going to mass helped to make me feel a sense of belonging. Masses at the university chapel gave me a feeling of being at-home, of being part of a community. Never mind that during my first few months, no one would bother to greet me to share the sign of peace. 

The university chapel is a symbol not only of the fulfillment of my longing for a sense of community, but also of a new chapter in my spiritual journey. The chapter, that started as I prayed for and was granted this job a day before the Feast of the Solemnity of Christ the King last year, continued to unravel as I held on tightly to the God who brought me to this new world in the first place. And so, today, as I joined the congregation in celebrating another Feast of the Solemnity of Christ the King, my eyes were once again misty but my heart was filled with gratitude. I not only survived the year with grace but had also received many unexpected blessings. As the same offertory song that gave me a sense of connection to my other world was once again sang today, I basked in the thought that I had been tremendously blessed and graced.  

The person who was crying in anxiety and fear as I entrusted my family, especially my son, to God at the Christ the King mass last year, but who also felt a sense of inner peace in knowing that I was following God's will, is a different person from the one leaving Cotabato City soon. Life here has enriched me professionally, emotionally, and spiritually. It has taught me to trust in God's process, to trust in God's fidelity in total surrender.  All that because the Spirit never let go of my hand. All that because Christ had been a loving and faithful king to me.