Its been years since I last set foot in this Church. I did not get to sleep at all the night before, and so I was weary when we got there. We were lucky to have heard the first Mass. It was nothing like I've expected.
When I was young, I would hop around the benches and count them from the start to the end while my mom was praying the rosary while kneeling. She would start to kneel and pray at the very foot of the church stairs. I would sometimes walk beside her or count the kneelers and hop alongside of her. I didn't even know what she was praying for. I didn't even know why she had to pray in the position. Life was fresh and new to me. No sadness, no pain. Just mama and me and praying in the Church.
I would recall that this place was some Church I wouldn't like to visit because it was very noisy, lots of vendors and lots of distractions. I only wanted to come with Mama and buy some balloons. This time, I swear, I could've knelt and prayed the rosary the way she did. It was a sad feeling.
Years have gone by and life has worn me out. Made me strong, yet worn me out. I saw the Church in its mystery and magic.. unlike how I looked at it as a noisy and irritating place when I was young. This time, it seemed to have brought me peace.
[caption id="" align="aligncenter" width="468" caption="Baclaran church"][/caption]
The Mass was about roots, and hypocrisy. It was a very short intimate Mass. The kind that I love the most. I'm always just after what God wants to tell us, nothing more.
I wondered. If the fruit is good, then the tree must be good (in a way). It could be bad now, but maybe just corrupted, but nonetheless good. It made me cry. Knowing how much pain I would have to go through with all the bad things coming my way, His voice was loud and clear. All men were created good. The goodness could be lost, but it can also be retrieved.. and only He knows how.
Throughout my life and towards its end, I want it to be "Isang buhay na Ganap at Kasiya-siya" (A life that is fulfilled and happy).