A Quest
understanding reconstructions in lifeArchive for August, 2019
Not an Ordinary Monday Night
Photo by Gagan Naik on Pexels.com
It was not an ordinary Monday night. Tonight, the monsoon rains were expected to pour heavily in our area. Rains had drenched the land for the past couple of days, and today was no exception. It was not an ordinary night because I canceled a weekly Monday night meeting so we can all be safe and dry tonight. Therefore, I arrived at the commercial center near my home at a busier time.
It was not an ordinary Monday night. I interacted with my mom and felt weak that I cannot do much in helping her. The situation mostly was outside my control so I really was limited as to how to help her. I was thinking about this helplessness as I alighted the jeepney that I rode from their place to mine. Even as crossed the pedestrian footbridge, I was thinking of how I can be of help.
A small voice interrupted my musings.
“Miss, excuse me po, hihingi lang ng tulong. Ser, excuse me po.”
As I looked at the person whom the voice belonged to, she repeated her plea, “Miss, makikihingi po ng tulong, pang pamasahe lang po.” The voice came from a stout woman who was accompanied by another woman who is significantly younger. They tried to protect themselves from the drizzle using one small umbrella.
By principle, I do not give money to people on the street. I believe that I can be of help in another way. So, I sadly smiled at them, shook my head, said sorry, and continued walking towards my destination.
A few steps after, I can still hear her voice. The sadness I was feeling with my situation gnawed at me. Reversing my steps back to the two women, I asked where they were going. Apparently, they were going home to Bulacan. They went to Pasig to get child-support money from the father of the younger woman. Unfortunately, the father was not at home so their effort was fruitless. They needed to go back to Bulacan but they don’t have enough money for the fare. I imagined that they only had money for a one-way trip and they were going to use some of the child-support money they were supposed to get to go home.
Asking them how they plan to go home, they said that they were going to ride a jeep to Cubao and from there ride a bus to Bulacan. I know from the news that Bulacan is massively flooded because of the non-stop monsoon rain which is intensified by the typhoon. I asked them about it and they affirmed that indeed, their area is flooded for a few days now. The young woman seems enthusiastic at 16 years old. My training gave me the tingling sensation that the young woman has special needs. The older woman, the mother, seemed ashamed for asking money from strangers but had no other recourse so she mustered her courage just to bring back her daughter to safety.
At this instance, I felt like how Jesus must have felt multiple times in the Bible: “and when he saw him, he had compassion” (Luke 10:33b). This was one of the instances that I broke my code. I did not shoulder the whole fare but I gave them enough for the both of them to reach Cubao. Handing them even that small amount felt right. Joy immediately radiated from the mother’s eyes as she said, “Salamat po, God bless you.”
I continued on my way home. I had one more stop before my house: I needed to buy burgers for dinner. Minute Burger was along the way and I intended to buy two orders: one for me and one for my spouse. By now, the rain was moderately falling. I was the only customer when I arrived at the burger store so I did not have to wait long for my order to be taken. A few minutes later, another customer arrived, and after him, two more groups arrived. Among the people who arrived was a 16-year-old teenage boy who sat beside me and asked for money. He was wearing a black shirt and black jogging pants. It looked like he was drenched in the rain at some point and just dried out. Unfortunately, giving him money did not feel right. So I made him a deal: I’d give him one of my burgers (one order has two pieces of burgers). He agreed with a shy smile.
While waiting for my order to be cooked, I engaged him in small talk. I asked him for small details like his name, age, and where he lived. He said he lived near the barangay hall with his friends. I was curious where his parents were so I asked. Apparently, this was a difficult topic for him. He avoided answering the question by looking away from me, instead, he looked down and wore a despondent face. Getting the hint, I steered away from the topic, and instead, asked him about school. My heart fell with his answer: he never went to school. Naturally, I asked him if he can read. “Hindi po, pero alam ko yung A-B-C.”
The teacher in me kicked in. So, he knew the letters, now I need to know if he knew the sounds of the letters. We practiced with the few Filipino words in the menu from Minute Burger.
“S-I-S-I-G”
So, he can recognize the letters. Now the sounds.
“/s/-/ay/” — after correcting him — “/s/-/i/-/g/”
Now comes blending: “Si-Si-G” “Sisig!”
“Marunong ka naman pala magbasa!” I joked.
While we were having our small reading session, I glanced upon the man who came after me. Right at that moment, he wore a disgusted expression. It was as if he was conveying that we should not be doing this at the store. I ignored him.
A 16-year-old boy might be too old for some to learn how to read. But this is an important life skill. I know of a program near the Pasig Market that helps children with their school work, hygiene, and values formation. I told him about this, even if the children being catered by that program are significantly younger than him. I gave him directions and the name of the program, as well as the person who runs it. I’m unsure whether or not he went or even remembered the directions.
When my order arrived, I asked for a tissue so that I can give away one of my burgers as promised. I then said my goodbye and encouraged him to go to the place I told him so he can learn how to read.
Reflecting on the two instances that Monday night, I realized that I have missed this joy and satisfaction that helping others brings. My current world is with people who have money–influential families, business owners, and students who grew up with privilege. For the first time in a long time, I was doing justice.
Maybe that Monday night was a clue to my true vocation. Maybe my responses and the results I got from that night should inform my next steps as I consider my future. In the long run, whose interest would I champion? Towards what kind of world am I going to work for? From what part of society am I to do justice?
Indeed, it was not an ordinary Monday night.
A Letter Response to “Letting Go”
Hi Dr. Ili. I pray that everything goes well with your move. Thank you for your blog today (on Letting Go). This particular piece has a profound impact on me. I think it’s what I needed to read at this point in my life.
Let me introduce myself. I am a Filipino, working as a school counselor here in the Philippines. I am yet to earn my master’s degree, hopefully, I get to graduate by 2nd semester (May 2019) and march next graduation (June 2019). I am in my 2nd year of doing my thesis. My first year of thesis writing was a drag because I had a hard time finding the energy to write when I am exhausted on my full day’s work in a school (I also teach one subject, equivalent to 4 hours per week). I just completed my outline defense last June, and now on my data-gathering stage. Now, the school year (where I work) has started again, and I am again having difficulty allotting energy for my thesis. But I must persist because I want to reach my graduation goal. I am also a member of the Philippine Chapter of Chi Sigma Iota (I’m not sure if you’re familiar with it).
Anyway, I joined your mailing list right when you were having the Get Refreshed Challenged (I think in 2016?). At that time, I was still taking coursework in graduate school, and it was also my first year as head of our department, handling not only my set of students, but also two other counselors (I can’t legally say guidance counselor, but for the sake of this conversation, let’s use that). The “Balance vs. Flow” concept really helped me re-imagine how I handle work-school-home (I’m married, though no children yet). I shared the content and reflection points to them during our weekly lunch meetings. All I can say is that it helped us (Thank you!). I would have wanted to avail of the paid network, but it’s not on our budget, especially because our Peso is becoming weaker against the Dollar over the years.
Your blog and Facebook group have been a companion in my journey, even if I’m not active in the group discussions (except in one instance). So, back to your blog on “letting go,” it has a profound impact on me today because, for quite some time, I have decided that this school year is going to be my last year in this job that I have. I need to let it go and find a part-time teaching job at a college, and then build my own consultancy and training firm with a few colleagues. It’s a daunting idea because I will be leaving my comfort zone for something unfamiliar. This is also the reason why I wanted to graduate by June next year.
But letting go has another meaning for me. Last February, one of our students jumped off from the 5F of our building. He died hours after in the hospital due to internal bleeding. There are circumstances surrounding the incident. At that time, I was in my class (remember I mentioned I also teach). He was at the level that I was handling, I was their counselor. I have seen him a couple of times, but suicidal intentions were never brought up, I was blindsided by it, he was not on my watch list (and last school year, there were a bunch of students on that watch list). After it happened, we had to make sure that there was no contagion effect. The top management brought in a team of Psychiatrists from the nearest private hospital, and then got handed the job of coordinating with them and seeing through the steps that they had talked about. There were talks, and group discussions especially to those who were closest to the student, as well as to the teachers plus responding nurses to the incident. It was weeks after before I was able to cry because I still had to have the strength to comfort the students. I thought going to the wake will help me grieve, but it didn’t because there were students and parents who look to me for emotional support. At that time, I was on autopilot. I have learned to be comfortable with the unanswered questions, and live with reality. School was out in mid-April, and I was able to focus my energy on writing my thesis proposal. Now, school has started last July and the grieving again comes in waves. I am starting to feel scared. I’m scared of not spotting problem areas, self-doubt is creeping in, leading to feelings of inadequacy. I’ve learned that these are normal emotions for “clinician survivors.” But I acknowledge that I had to go through the process of grieving and healing. When I’m processing with myself, there were a lot of “I knows” that I jump to the supposed outcome without undergoing the process because of “I know.” Does that make sense? After the incident, I talked to my thesis adviser, and she encouraged me to talk to my counselor. I had another professor whom I can talk about life matters but I don’t want to talk to her about this because she herself is battling cancer. I talked to my church leaders, and some of the things they said helped, talking helped a bit, but there’s still something lacking. I tried reconnecting with my previous counselor, but she’s in a different country. Friends – we can’t find the right schedule. I actually considered paying for a therapist, but again, financial constraints are stopping me. Yesterday, I was able to talk to a friend about it, and she was able to pinpoint something –that somehow, I blame myself for not spotting the problem and that I need to forgive myself for that. I need to let it go.
I am still in the process of letting it go because I tend to put it in the closet so I can do what needs to be done at work. But a part of me tells me that I am doing a disservice to my students (my clients) if I don’t deal with this head-on.
Anyway, I think that’s it. It has been a long letter, but in the end, I just want to say how I appreciate this community. Thank you. 
A Quest 