More precious than diamonds

When we were in college, our class used to visit a facility for babies and toddlers. They were not orphans, but they were uncared for, either because their mothers did not have the means, or could simply not attend to them because they had to earn a living.

We visited this facility as part of our social-consciousness training. I remember how the babies and toddlers would be guarded in the beginning, and then so easily warm up with a touch and a pat on their head. We would play with the babies, most of whom were still in their cribs, and sometimes carry them. We would bring diapers, milk, whatever was allowed. When we would leave after about an hour, the babies would be bawling, arms outstretched in our direction, their eyes imploring us to take them.

This was always the hardest part of our visits. Most of our hearts would be wrenched. It was not just a class activity for some, but an attachment.

One of my classmates was so profoundly affected by our visits to the babies that she and her siblings would continue to visit the children’s home even when it was no longer required. One Christmas Eve, she and her siblings decided to visit the home to bring cheer and milk. As Silent Night played from one of the caregivers’ transistor radio, they found an unusually silent nursery. There were only two babies left. The others had been taken home by their biological parents or relatives for the night, a special night, a holy night. Then, out of the two babies, one suddenly had a visitor. His mother had come for him.

And then there was one.

My classmate — let’s call her Angel — and her siblings knew this was a sign from heaven. They weren’t only going to visit, they were going to make the baby a visitor to their own home — they bundled up the “unclaimed” baby and obtained permission to bring her home for Christmas. Let’s call the baby Twinkle. Angel’s mother fell in love with Twinkle at first sight. Her father kept a distance.

Of course, they brought Twinkle back to the home after Christmas, despite her cries and warm tears. Still, no one came for her. Because she believed the baby was better off with her biological mother, Angel’s mother went to great lengths to look for her, as far away as the Visayas. She even hired investigators. When they found the mother, Angel’s family even offered to support the mother and the baby, even her schooling. That’s how much they loved Twinkle. But when it was made clear that the biological mother couldn’t raise Twinkle, Angel’s family went through the legal process of making her their very own.

Angel’s father said, “I don’t think I can love anyone who is not of my flesh and blood as much as I love my own children.”

But after Twinkle came to live with them permanently, “My father loved her like she was the biological child and we were the adopted ones,” laughs Angel. Twinkle was the apple of her new parents’ eyes; the sun, moon and stars of her siblings.  Because she didn’t know how to crawl because there was no space in the crib in the children’s home for her to crawl, her adoptive parents and siblings only crawled when they were in front of her — until she was able to go on all fours by herself.

When Twinkle became a teenager, she had some growing-up issues. She turned to alcohol and Angel had the tough love choice of putting Twinkle in rehab. Angel’s mom was furious. “How could you do this to our baby?”

Twinkle eventually got over her dependence on alcohol. She did well in school and became a child psychologist.

When Angel’s mother passed away, her precious jewelry was divided among her children, Twinkle included. Twinkle politely refused her share.

She told her siblings that she was refusing the jewelry because the gifts of love her mother, the only one she’s ever known, were more precious than diamonds. She told them she was already rich beyond compare because of their decision to fight for love, love her, and treat her like a gem even when she was the only “unclaimed” one on a lonely Christmas Eve.

***

Like Twinkle, Sen. Grace Poe was the recipient of boundless love from parents who were not of her flesh and blood. Recently, I asked Sen. Grace, who came as a foundling into the lives of her parents, the late King and Queen of Philippine Movies Fernando Poe Jr. and Susan Roces, what she is grateful for, and she said, “I am grateful for the unconditional love of my mom and my dad — from the time they took me in as a foundling and for giving me a family. From them, I have come to experience that family isn’t always just made from blood, but from love and commitment.”

Look at how Grace has changed the Philippines for the better. Her Foundling Law, her SIM Card Registration Law, her free lunch program for school children, to name a few of her initiatives, have all made an impact in the lives of Filipinos. Imagine if she were abandoned and unloved? What if she were raised in a home that did not give her the best opportunities to fulfill her best potential?

Recently, my uncle Edward Reyes started donating bananas from the family farm in Oriental Mindoro to a public elementary school in the Aplaya section of the town. Bananas are so versatile you can boil, fry or some varieties can be eaten fresh. I decided to do my share by donating money to buy pan de sal and eggs to the children for their school feeding program. I was not expecting to get a letter from the school’s principal, Evelyn Gungon, and a video message from the children themselves,  thanking me. It was humbling. Truly, giving is its own reward.

When you change a child’s life, you change the world. *