Philippines 2014: Initial Thoughts

Women's Retreat in Pozorrubio

I have been avoiding this—the writing about my trip to the Philippines.  Rarely at a loss for words and guilty on countless occasions of exceeding the recommended 500 word limit for blog posts; I am known for throwing propriety and caution to the wind.  I write until I am done with my thoughts.  Perhaps it is fear that keeps me from writing now; fear that words might fail to do justice to what my heart knows to be true.

Don’t let me be guilty of overdone platitudes: “I went to give but how much more I received,” or “I thought I would serve but it was they who served me.” Not that any of that is untrue.  It just isn’t enough.

You have to know this about me first—I am sentimental, but I am not.  I am romantic, but I am not. Tears do not come easily to me.  I am a realist.  I am suspicious.  I have learned not to expect too much and therefore, I am often pleasantly surprised.

All that I knew was that I was supposed to go.  I didn’t know why.  Honestly, I wasn’t the least bit excited about this journey even a week before.  Oh, I pretended to be excited.  Truthfully, I held more dread than anticipation. What if the heat was unbearable?  What if I felt suffocated being around people for two weeks?  Where would I find the peace and solitude that I crave?  What if I don’t sleep and get cranky and horribly offend someone?

Please understand, I am the same woman who stood on a hill overlooking Jerusalem in 2000, surrounded by friends who were weeping for joy at their first sight of the Holy Land, all the while feeling nothing but shame for having no tears of my own.  I was miserably tired, hot, and unimpressed by the pale beige tones of the desert and the pierce of the thorny ground into my Birkenstock-exposed toes.  Jet lag is not my friend.

Afraid of setting my expectations too high, the best I knew to do was to lean in to the prayers offered on my behalf.  There must have been more than I even imagined.  I had the privilege of an assignment prior to the trip…the writing of a devotional for the women we would meet in Manila and the provinces, “31 Days of Hope.”  One of the days was about letting go.  For someone like me who lives alone and has the illusion of control, journeying with a group to other side of the world can be daunting.  I took my own advice and it helped.  Well, actually, it was the advice of a friend to me when I was escalating up the hill of a roller coaster I had never ridden before; “Just relax and let it happen.”  And so I did.

It didn’t matter that I didn’t get more than five hours of sleep at a time while I was there.  It didn’t matter that I was drenched with sweat much of the time.  It didn’t matter that there was a typhoon and we were without electricity for an entire day, and portions of days thereafter.  It didn’t matter than I had way too much rice and (sometimes) food that I could not identify. None of that mattered because this adventure, this, was the best trip I have ever taken…even better than Italy.  How could this be?

My heart was fully engaged.  That is what mattered.

On the way to the airport 07_09_2014

Manila...after 38 hours of travel

This rainbow was waiting for us at the Manila airport

Oh, I am not done…this is only the beginning…