Pray: The believer in me

MANILA, Philippines - Having gone to a Catholic elementary/high school and a Christian university, I’d say I’m pretty much secure in my faith. Add to that is the benefit of growing up in a traditional Catholic family where every feast day is celebrated and Sunday meant Church Day.

I had no test of faith really except maybe the usual please-don’t-wake-me-up-so-early-for-church-I-hate-you-God moments that are usually a product of grumpiness in the morning and resolve around mid-afternoon when God and I are friends again. Well, no serious test of faith until about three years ago when ultimately my mama died.

It was a sad situation, I was in my college apartment when our youngest called me and said mama had one of her dyspneic spells again (she usually had trouble breathing when lying down as a complication of her kidney disease) and that night it was worse. She was home alone with my youngest sister and our young helper (dad was away visiting my older brother and sister, I was two hours away for college) and was pronounced DOA when my sister managed to bring her to the hospital.

I guess devastating would be an understatement to describe that experience. I remember taking the first trip home the next day, crying the whole trip all the while playing blind to the awkward glances the people in the van kept throwing my way. I didn’t care, their mom didn’t die. Mine did.

The moment I stepped into the funeral home and saw my mama lifeless inside the coffin, the moment I entered our sad empty house — I knew things would be different. Mama’s side of the bed would forever be empty, her voice would never again echo in our house, she would never again answer whenever I call for her. I guess there is some truth when they said that the pain never truly goes away, it just gets covered up with time, because even though it has been some time ago that she died, whenever I look back, it still hurts the same way it did that day three years ago.

Let me tell you how God answered my prayer.

I was a third-year nursing student back then and one of the highlights of being a junior is the capping ceremony. It was to take place November, mama died in June. It was sort of a big deal because I remembered months before she passed away, she would mention how excited she was for that event, how she was never there in any of our other college events because her illness made it physically difficult for her to travel.

But she was looking forward to this one, I would like to think she was proud of me. She would tell us she would get her treatments early just so she could attend my capping. A week before the ceremony I was alone in my boarding house, crying my heart out with the radio playing some random station in the background.

I was begging God for a chance to talk to mama — in whatever impossible way. The ceremony was to take place by the end of the week, a few days away from a part of my dream coming true — our dream, and she wasn’t there. For some reason, after a few minutes of sobbing I stopped; exhaustion maybe, I don’t remember.

The next thing that happened, however, I will remember for the rest of my life. I heard this unfamiliar song over the radio that played…

Don’t be afraid, oh my love

I’ll be watching you from above

And I’ll give all the world tonight, to be with you

‘Coz I’m on your side, I still care

I may have died but I’ve gone nowhere

Just think of me and I’ll be there.

I cried even harder. It was then that I concluded to myself: God really does work in mysterious ways. A prayer, after all, need not be a ceremonious act, a simple conversation with Him is enough. Amazing how God works, He may not give us the answers we want, but He makes sure we get the answers we need.