You are Appreciated

I think I've always been a people-watcher. When I used to travel to Uni on the train, I would wonder about my fellow passengers, where they were going, who they would meet, what their home-life was like, their dreams and fears. As more and more responsibilities and activities have been added to my thought-life, I guess it's one pass-time that's diminished.

But here, with these new surroundings, people-watching has resurfaced, and I'm as inquisitive and charged with emotion as ever. Each morning I notice the caretakers of the vacant land next door, feeding about 20 very vocal roosters and chickens. They appear to be living in huts made from corrugated iron and have been tasked to keep squatters from moving in.

As I go running outside our estate, 30 or so maintenance men line up outside each residential area, ready for their days work. They start arriving around 7am and I wonder how far and how long they have travelled for this job. What time will they reach home in the evening? Do they have families? Do their loved ones work every day as well?

The Ya Yas (Nannies) don't line up at the gates - they mostly seem to live with the families they help. In fact I don't think I've seen many actual residents around our estate - they tend to leave very early and return very late from work. Everybody is working very hard in this hot and sweaty heat.

I wonder if everyone knows how much their hard work is appreciated. That's one advantage of people-watching - you tend to notice what otherwise gets lost in the busyness of everyone's day. So, to the Ya Yas, the Maintenance Crew, the Cleaners, the Jeepney Drivers, and the White-Collar workers, whose days are just as long and full of stress, we say thank-you! Because you do what you do, we can do what we do, our kids can grow up and do what they'll do, and our community continues to flourish and thrive.

The Art of Contentment

I remember when I first came to Manila 16 years ago. I was walking through a park in the heat of the day and took a rest on a flattened cardboard box. A couple of kids ran towards me and I took out a picture book that was written in Tagalog. They pointed at the pictures and smiled, nodding their heads in recognition - "Jesus! Opo! Yes! Mahal ako ni Hesus. Jesus loves me."

A while later as I was leaving, I turned one last time to wave goodbye and the picture I saw has remained etched in my mind. They had unfolded the cardboard box and were setting up their clothes as pillows beneath their heads. I had been sitting on their house.

I'm not sure if orphaned kids still sleep in cardboard boxes along the streets of Manila but last week I met some boys who live in a shack along a sewerage drain just near our apartment. They were carrying two large bottles of water to their house. I tried that once with a trolley and I still struggled. It made me wonder why their father couldn't have helped. It made me wonder if they had a father.

I asked if I could take their photo and showed them - "Guapo! Handsome!" They loved that! I have about 5 photos of them posing. Every time I lifted the camera they would move into a different position, laughing.

I've been thinking about the things that help us feel satisfied in life. Is it the possessions that make us comfortable; the provision of good food; even the family and friends we hold onto? Then I remembered the kids in the drain confidently flexing their muscles for the camera and my little mates in the park celebrating our shared faith. And I felt privileged to have been 'schooled' in the art of contentment once more.

Beauty Lines the Pathways

I bent down and peered through the bars. "Apat na...Mountain Dew...?" The couple nodded and began filling bottles and passing them out one by one. "Magkano? How much?" 48 pesos... We had been wandering along the dusty road looking for someone to fix our bike and my kids were struggling with the heat. Now as they sipped their sodas they showed signs of relief.

It wasn't long before the woman emerged from behind her cage and began curiously questioning me on my venture. Within moments I had made a friend, her warm smile brightening the dim little shop. She told me she was 65 but she looked much much younger. She carried an air of grace that made me wonder what she was doing sitting in the depths of this convenience store. Surely she should be mingling with the movers and shakers of society.

I keep discovering beauty in the oddest of places...the ‘Ya Yas’ who meet in the park every evening as the kids they care for busily play; the women on the roof working their way through piles of dirty clothes; my 'suki' who supplies our veggies in the wet-market; the birds that flutter around the aisles of the store; the guards in our complex who never fail to smile and wish us well for the day…

Walking home yesterday my eyes fell on a pile of rubbish in the bush but it wasn’t the scraps that caught my eye. Amidst the discarded wrappers, standing tall and majestic, the petals of a Purple Shower waved in the breeze. Untainted, unaware of it’s surroundings. Beautiful. This week I didn’t need to go digging for beauty - it found me. It burst forth and with a loud voice shouted “I am here, and everywhere you step I will be lining your pathways.”

Entitled?

"Can you find him a tissue?" Ken said. Josh's nose was dripping and I hurriedly excused myself past rows of church members and outside to the bathroom. As I walked back inside, people were staring at me oddly while I made my way back to my seat. Glancing around I noticed a sign in the usher's hands "Please refrain from taking your seats until after worship has finished".

Grrrr. Once again I'd inadvertantly broken a social rule and reinforced that mindset that westerners feel they can do what they want. We think we are entitled.

This has been a constant battle in my head. I want to live here humbly and respectfully with a teachable spirit. I don't want to act entitled and I don't want to be rude. At the same time I'm juggling 4 little kids with needs of their own. Everyday I weigh up their experience of transition with my own desire to live simply.

"Mummy, I want to go home. It's too hot. The Filipino kids are laughing at me. I don't like the food. What if a volcano erupts or a typhoon hits? How come it takes so long to get to the shops?" This is why I wanted to come here - I want them to grow in understanding of other people's struggles and be grateful for what they have in Australia.

But where is the line between stretching and breaking? Is it justified to let them watch tv, play computer games and eat takeaway, to ease the strain a little. Inside my heart cries out for the kids down the street who have none of that and can't just 'take a break' from the stress when it gets too much.

But my kids are privileged kids and no matter how embarrassed that seems to make me feel here, when I pretend they are not, no-one wins. So I will do my best to help them experience everyday life in Manila. I will try to help them understand that Jimmy is no different to them even though he can't come and play because he's working to support his family. I will try to help them understand, as I try to understand myself.

A Beautiful, Kind, Resilient People

The little boy was trembling and I asked him what was wrong. His Dad had threatened to cut his throat he said. He didn't have anywhere to go home to...Tonight I contemplated the tens of thousands of stories out there like his. Lost and alone. No way out.

Australia seems worlds away now. We have landed with a thud in the Philippines. We had trouble finding transport that would fit our family today. Ken walked 45 minutes through a thunderstorm. Our power went out. My friend who came to help was stranded so she's now sleeping on the couch.

They're just little things but they somehow remind me of the fragility of life. There are people who live with more than inconveniences each day. Life and death, some of them.

But life goes on and glimpses of hope shine throughout humanity's failings. The friends who banded around the scared little boy - "I'll get my dad to talk with your dad," one said. "I have some spare clothes for you," said another. Ken's saturated bag that turned out to be full of food he'd been given at his class today. The candles that were discovered, and the way the kids drew together in the shock of the dark. The provision of computers and wifi to keep my kids entertained and the way other kids joined them to play - language no longer a barrier. The fact that someone would even bother to travel 2 hours to support my family.

With each growing frustration an incredible blessing gets highlighted. Our lack is continually matched by other's generosity. Our frustrations are met with a warm smile. And I sit and contemplate what other lengths of grace will be experienced by these beautiful, resilient people never short of kindness.