A time to thank, a time to prepare

We had just celebrated our first Thanksgiving and it felt different to actually experience the revelry compared to when I was just a spectator or a greeter to my Fil-Am siblings.

A New York Times columnist wrote about her “brother’s Thanksgiving lament” – one that was celebrated against the backdrop of uncertainties in American politics, the crisis in the Middle East, ongoing wars in parts of the world, climate change and what she calls a “battle between good and evil.” Indeed there’s so much to lament about. And there’s also much more to be grateful for.

I spent the holiday wondering about what I am most grateful for all these years of being an itinerant. It has been five years since my first book, “Journeys: The Rosary in the lives of wandering women,” was published. I am eternally thankful for the privilege of having to write about and share the stories of my sisters in faith. Most of all, I am grateful for their enduring friendship, the seed of which was planted in Beijing more than 15 years ago. We are each other’s anchors in both placid and volatile times that to this day, we still meet once a week to pray the rosary, albeit virtually, logging in from different continents and diverse time zones.

A friend asked if I do not get tired of moving. I said I do but I can’t change plans so I stick to what Maya Angelou wrote in her book “Wouldn’t Take Nothing For My Journey Now.” She said, “If you can’t change it, change the way you think about it. Don’t complain.”

Almost a year into our New York assignment, I heave a sigh of gladness at every occasion that leads to cross-cultural understanding, new friendships, skills building or sometimes grasping even the mundane. Although I every now and then miss the activities from previous postings where I took part in organizing fundraising or cultural events, volunteered as an English language teacher for young learners, here at the UN a team of volunteers arrange a monthly program for us. As what the head of the UN hospitality committee said at our welcome morning, they want us to immerse and experience the extraordinarily vibrant pulse of the city.

Similarly, I treasure my everyday encounters in the bus or in the subway, such that I created a “bus tales and subway stories” section in my journal. These happenstances are not always pleasant. They can be worrisome or even scary. But they almost always make me more empathetic, compassionate, more brave and a firm believer in the idea that small conversations or little acts of kindness do heal and help us shed off our prejudices.

Days after Oct. 7 when the mood was still unsettling, a middle-aged lady approached us by the bus stop to ask if it was OK for her to give us a keepsake. Would we accept it? Having read stories of con artists duping unsuspecting bystanders, I was initially skeptical about a sweet talk that comes with a token. But a fellow commuter standing next to me said yes, so I agreed. Very calmly she talked about how there is so much hate now and perhaps the pin, when worn or placed elsewhere in our workplace, could remind us of our shared humanity and desire for peace. Then she clasped my hands and said take care, to which I retorted, you too. I wished for the bus to arrive soon so I could hide my embarrassment.

“Gratitude brings down a blessing and the giver likes to be reminded of his goodness,” a line in my prayer book reads. With this in mind, I now think of Advent, another significant season leading to Christmas. This time of preparation, which is observed by most Christians, could likewise be meaningful to the secular world or from an interfaith perspective.

Far from home, I picture how malls and the bustling stretch of Ayala Avenue look like now. Festive, adorned with elegant Christmas decors, sparkling and gorgeously glittery at night. An Indonesian and a Malaysian friend, who were assigned in the Philippines, told me of how they looked forward to Christmases in Manila. How relatives and friends opted to visit during the Christmas holidays to witness this annual tourist attraction with motifs differing year after year. I couldn’t agree more. Despite our different religions my friends listened enthusiastically to my stories about the symbolism of the Belen, anecdotes about the simbang gabi or the much-anticipated neighborhood caroling, now perhaps a vanishing tradition. Delighted, we compared notes on how they too prepare for Eid Al-Fitr and the customs attached to their likewise most important holiday. We talked about how distinct yet so similar we are in so many ways.

As my thoughts linger on how we recognize and respect our differences, I oftentimes think of how the universality of such understanding resonates to our rather wounded world. In the Christian tradition, Advent as a time of preparation beckons us to focus more internally, instead of the trappings of Christmastide. Advent invites us to look into how we can prepare from within and look into the intangibles. It sounds like a tall order, especially when we see the massive Christmas tree amidst the lively skating rink at the heart of Rockefeller Center. Or how opulent shops stretching along the glitzy Fifth Avenue dress up their windows to entice passersby to shop early for Christmas.

Yet the hopeful news of hostages being freed, a dear kababayan and selfless caregiver who still plans to carry on with his work despite his ordeal, truly brings hope. An Advent wreath is adorned with four candles, three purple and one pink, each representing hope, peace, joy and love. I wish that the day when all the candles of Advent are lit would also be the time when the last fire of war will be extinguished.