My Heavenly Dad Shows Up at a Filipino Bus Station

I was just re-reading my old journal from 2012, and found this little story from my second year as a volunteer in the Philippines.

April 9, 2012

I was at the bus station at 4 pm to get my bus to Cagayan de Oro. Unfortunately, being Easter Monday, the buses were all full, and there were a bunch of people also waiting for the same bus.

Me still being pretty unassertive, and uncomfortable with the idea of pushing myself forward, I hung back as people pressed forward every time a bus stopped. I am also unsure about how Christian it is to get my way at the expense of others.

I stationed myself fairly close to where the bus would stop, but people don’t let a little thing like an Indian girl stop them from getting what they need. They stepped directly in front of me, to the point where they were practically standing on my feet, and I was leaning backward to avoid contact.

After waiting for 45 minutes, with pretty similar results every time, I was getting pretty desperate. I saw one man rushing around trying to get his family on to a bus (and getting in my way to do it). I am not used to having to fend for myself in these kind of situations, even though I have been a volunteer away from my family (in particular my dad and my brothers) for almost two years now.

So I said “Father, I need You to be my Dad who makes sure I get on the bus, and looks after me the way those women are being looked after. I am obviously out of control of this situation.”

It was getting later, every bus had standing place only, and many didn’t even have that. I was not looking forward to standing for the three hour bus ride.

Then a bus pulled in. I was desperate enough that I was willing to stand. I got in after a bunch of guys who of course rushed ahead of me. Chivalry doesn’t exist when people have a bus to catch. But as I stood at the front of the bus, all the guys filed out sadly. Obviously the conductor had told them there was no place.

As people pushed past me to get back out, I was like “Lord, please let me leave on this bus. And I know it is highly unlikely, but it would be awesome if You could get me a seat.”

I decided to ask if I could stand. I hate admitting that I can’t speak Visaya, so I try to use minimum words so people don’t realize I’m a foreigner and totally clueless. I try to read people’s actions and expressions to figure out what is going on and what they are saying. So I asked, and the conductor seemed uncertain.

But then he said something about a seat extension... the little seat that pulls out into the middle of the aisle. And there was one free! I don’t know why those guys didn’t get it. But I guess my Dad was looking out for me.

Re-reading this five years later is a good reminder for someone as forgetful as I am. Journaling has been such a great way to record the patterns and events and insights that have brought me to where I am today, and see the fingerprints of God all over my life. Do you journal?

The Parable of the Sower Comes Alive

A sower went out to sow his seed… 

I had a group of young volunteers all ready to promote a youth retreat afternoon at our local parish. We stood at the doors of the church after Mass, resisting our own introvertedness and fears to initiate conversations with anyone who looked like they might be ‘youth’. People feel invisible in our giant parish, the element of personal contact is missing for many. We aimed to change that. To whom should we speak? The sower was extravagant in his sowing, he just threw the seed out there, without worrying too much about where it would land. I saw a young man, and stepped forward.

“Would you like to attend a youth retreat?” I was greeted with a suspicious glance, like I was trying to sell him something instead of extending a friendly invitation.

“No.”

“Why not? It’ll be fun! Talks and testimonies and music!” I bantered, undeterred.

“Um, I’m not from this parish.” (Talk about lame excuses.)

“That doesn’t matter, you can come anyway.”

“Uh, no thanks..”

“Okay, I can’t force you!”

As he sowed, some fell on the path and was trampled on, and the birds of the air ate it up. (The ones on the path are those who have heard; then the devil comes and takes away the word from their hearts, so that they may not believe and be saved.)

Stylish teenagers from the parish youth group with coloured hair and high heels looked at me with guarded expressions. 

“Hey guys! You coming for the youth retreat?”

“Um.. we’re going to Mass.”

 “You can join us after Mass! You’ll join us then?”

“Okay.”

I poked my head out after Mass, and there they were, chatting animatedly, with no visible intention of joining the retreat. I grabbed my seeds and got ready to throw.

“Hey, retreat has started. You coming?”

One or two looked like they were interested but glanced at the ring leaders who wouldn’t meet my eye.

“We haven’t eaten yet.. we’ll just go home and get something to eat, and we’ll be back.”

“Really? Sure? Okay, I’ll see you then!”(I’m gullible.)

It was only a couple of hours later that I realized they didn’t show.

Some fell among thorns, and the thorns grew with it and choked it. (As for what fell among the thorns, these are the ones who hear; but as they go on their way, they are choked by the cares and riches and pleasures of life, and their fruit does not mature.) 

One of our volunteers approach two girls outside the church. They were not Christians, but had felt an inexplicable urge to come visit the church that day. “Maybe we will find peace and a solution for our problems.”

“Would you like to attend the retreat?”

They were surprised, but readily agreed. They came for the retreat, and loved everything about it. They had to leave early because one of them had a sister who was home alone, and was calling to ask them to come home. They could hardly bear to tear themselves away.

“Do you have this every week? Can we come back? We came to the church before but we didn’t know what to do, how to pray, so we left.”

“There are many different ways to pray. The main thing is to just speak to God from your heart.”

“That’s what happened just now when we were singing songs (praise and worship). It was so awesome- it was like my heart was lifted to God, and He was just flowing into me! I loved it so much!”

As they ate lunch with the volunteers, they had many questions. “How can we know more? How do we read the bible? Can we have your number? We would love to learn more!”

Some fell into good soil, and when it grew, it produced a hundredfold. (But as for that in the good soil, these are the ones who, when they hear the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patient endurance.) 

Everyone who showed up for the retreat, from the socially awkward to the cool, from the 14 year old to the 50- something year old priest who came from a different parish and listened to all our talks and testimonies, from the seasoned retreat-goers to the ones who had never attended a retreat before and just showed up because it sounded cool, received something. As a youth minister I knew once said, “Show up for God, and God shows up for you.” Also “Just show up!”

My heart aches for those who missed out. I know God had something for them too. But the fears and insecurities and attachments were too strong. This time. We will continue to sow.

Lord, make us both extravagant sowers of your word, as well as good soil that receives it and bears fruit with patient endurance. 

Breaking Out of the Bubble

It was about ten years ago that I was sitting in my air-conditioned office at work and thinking, “I am in a bubble.” It was a really nice bubble. I was 21, I had my own computer, a little corner to myself, work that wasn’t too difficult, and a nice salary that allowed me a lot of little luxuries I had never had before. I had a coffee machine, nice bathrooms, and the luxury of not being affected by the sweltering heat outside. I didn’t have to interact with too many people, which worked just fine for me since I am a bit of an introvert. So what was the problem?

Trying to figure out why I'm dissatisfied at my 21st birthday party

The curse of a comfortable life—a heart that had become numb, comfortably numb. For years I had felt a desire to give more, love more, serve more, but now at the age of 21, I was far from fulfilling that desire. I went to Mass every Sunday, I had a personal prayer time, I read the bible, I was involved with youth ministry in the Christian community I belonged to, and yet my life seemed to lack something.

In 2015, Pope Francis encapsulated what I was feeling when he spoke at the canonization of St. Junipero Serra. “We don’t want apathy to guide our lives… or do we? We don’t want the force of habit to rule our life… or do we? So we ought to ask ourselves: What can we do to keep our heart from growing numb, becoming anesthetized?”

That year I met a group of young American Catholic volunteers. They were visiting for the summer and there was something different about them. They were anything but apathetic. Instead, their lives glowed with zeal and joy. They seemed to have a burning love for Jesus, and for the poor. What was their secret?

Pope Francis continued in his homily: “How do we make the joy of the Gospel increase and take deeper root in our lives? Jesus gives the answer. He said to his disciples then and he says it to us now: Go forth! Proclaim! The joy of the Gospel is something to be experienced, something to be known and lived only through giving it away, through giving ourselves away.”

God spoke that truth loud and clear to me that year. He said, “Susanna, I know you. You were not made for a life of apathy. I want more FROM you, and I want more FOR you. I have a plan, but it means leaving the bubble of your comfort zone. Are you in?”

But was it possible for me to be different? I knew exactly how lazy, undisciplined, selfish, and hard-hearted I could be. Could God really break me out of that bubble? He said he could, but I needed to say my own yes. Like Mary, I received the grace to say, “Let it be done to me according to your word.”

My job as a teacher in a village school in 2008

The following year I left my job to teach at a village school. Two years later, in 2010, I became a full-time Catholic volunteer, and I have been one for the past seven years. I have spent time preaching, teaching, visiting homes, praying with people, running retreats, organizing summer clubs for underprivileged children, making real friends with the poor, tutoring kids from the slum, and fundraising for poor students. I learned the truth: that it was truly possible to live a life of JOY but only by giving it away.

“You are so young. Why are you doing this kind of work? You should be having fun!” I was once asked by an older Catholic lady. I was lost for words for a moment. How could I explain that this was a lie that most people buy into? The lie that fulfillment is found in a self-centred life, of endless parties, restaurants, shopping, and stuff (which seems to be a life that is easy to fall into when you’re young and earning), or in worldly acclaim, degrees, promotions, and achievements.

It was not true. Nothing could ever satisfy my heart as much as this simple life of Gospel poverty, real friends and community, meaningful service, and daily intimacy with Jesus. The quote that sums up my decision is from a Protestant missionary martyr to Ecuador named Nate Saint: “People ask me why I am wasting my life. I tell them ‘Everyone is wasting their life on something, and when the bubble of this earthly life bursts, what will they have left of eternal significance?’”

Playing basketball with (and getting badly beaten by) Filipino kids half my size

I am still a work in progress. God isn’t done with me yet. I still have to choose every day to give my life away instead of running back to my comfort zone, and sometimes I fail. But this life has enabled me to discover and live the ‘joy of the Gospel’.

Have you ever felt this same restlessness and desire for something more? God is calling all of us to step out of our comfort zones and give ourselves away to a world that is hungry for love and salvation. Some are called to do it in the context of the home and work He has already given them. Many are called to step out of their flats and into the slums, to try something new. And some are called to give up everything, and serve Him in full-time ministry. Is God calling you?

Emmaus Catholic Volunteers is an organization of lay Catholic singles and families who serve the poor and share the Gospel through a culture of encounter in various dioceses in India. Emmaus trains new volunteers and sends them out with a minimum of two years’ commitment. The next Intake of new volunteers is August 2017. If you are interested in serving with Emmaus, email us at contact@emmaus.in. Visit and like our facebook page: facebook.com/emmauscatholicvolunteers for news, pictures and updates.

Originally published in the Poona Diocesan Life.

“When I Grow Up, I Want to be an Artist”

This is a post I wrote back in 2012 when I had the opportunity to serve for a while in the Philippines.

“When I grow up, I want to be an artist.” I still remember saying those words to a room of teachers when I was in the third standard, participating in the primary school elections for fourth standard ‘prefects’. Every other candidate said they wanted to be a teacher when they grew up. We had to do our speeches a second time because the teachers couldn’t make up their minds, and the second time I was so flustered that I parroted the other kids and said I wanted to be a teacher.

I remember the teachers kidding with me about my career choice confusion. Looks like it was prophetic though, because from all those kids I was the only one who became a teacher. But I did love art, and spent most of my life sketching (in my textbooks), making cards and doing art projects, although I never had any kind of art training until my teacher’s training art class. I loved art though, and I never thought I would get the chance to rediscover that side of myself... as a Catholic volunteer.

Before I moved to my new post in the Philippines, I had been feeling the need to find time to do ‘me stuff’, things that may not be officially ‘volunteer work’, but are a part of who I am and the gifts God had given me. I promised myself that when I came here I would make cards again and do some kind of art. Art is very important to my team mate, R, too. In fact, she had been contemplating an Art History major before she decided to do theology and Spanish instead. So we both wanted to make it happen.

But over the past two months, things became pretty busy again, with 24 classes every week at the school, lesson planning, household chores and trips to the big city four hours away. There never seemed to be enough time or space to start and complete an art project. Then... R’s elementary school sent us two big boxes... full of stationery and art supplies for children in the Philippines! I cannot tell you how thrilled we were. We knew there were many kids in our school who were creative or artistically inclined, but they hardly have any material or training. Even a box of crayons or markers are a big deal.

My own depiction of meeting Jesus... in the wind.

So after some prayer and thought, we decided to have an ‘Art Day’. We invited all the kids who were especially interested in art to come to school last Saturday for a special art project. Our theme was ‘Meeting Jesus’. R and I worked on our own art samples the previous week, to give them an idea of different way to express an idea, and different art methods. It was so calming to sit at the table for hours on free days, while it rained outside, or the world passed by, and work at making something beautiful.

Art Day was an awesome success! The kids were thrilled to have a day dedicated to art, and all the materials and encouragement they needed to make something beautiful. R gave them a short input about how God allows us to share in his creative nature through art, and how we should use it to glorify Him.

At the end of the morning, we allowed each student to pick two or three items from the art supply boxes to take home. They couldn’t contain their excitement. (When we said they could take three things, some of them thought that meant one colour pencil counted as one thing, and were overwhelmed when a whole pack of colour pencils counted as one thing.) It was a good day. We saw some beautiful works of art being created. We got to share with the kids something that has been a joy to both of us through our lives. And I got the chance to draw and sketch and colour and stick and CREATE to my heart’s content. I guess when I grew up, I DID become an artist.

Being a Welcoming Church

Yesterday I was at Mass, and it was pretty crowded. First Friday of the month, and the year. As usual, I was attempting to pray, be aware of the mystery I was participating in, and Jesus' presence in the Blessed Sacrament while batting away distracting thoughts about my life, unfinished tasks, plans for the future, and my next meal. Yes, it's fun in my head.

It was the Communion Rite, and people were beginning to line up to receive Communion, when I suddenly noticed a couple of young men a few pews ahead of me. They had risen, but looked unsure of themselves as everyone else headed to the centre aisle.

"I guess they're not Christian." I thought. It was pretty obvious, and not uncommon for people of other faith backgrounds to visit the church, and to think that Holy Communion was the equivalent of prasad (a food item offered to idols during Hindu religious services, and eaten afterwards).

But Holy Communion is something quite different. We believe it is literally (and I do mean literally) the Body and Blood of Jesus, transformed from the bread offered by the priest, (because of Jesus' words in John 6 and the Last Supper and the witness of the early Church and the Church Fathers). So it's not just a sign of inclusion, but a sign of faith, and a sign of the communion that exists with Christ and between His followers. Anyway.

I had a brief moment of wondering if I should say something.  But then "Someone else will deal with it," I thought. "Maybe they'll sit back down. Or the priest will figure out they're not Christian, or something." It's too awkward to go up to people in the middle of Mass. So I just didn't.

But then they did join the Communion line. Would the priest figure it out? Maybe when the guys don't respond 'Amen' after he says 'The Body of Christ'? But no. One of the guys walked off holding the Communion Host in his hand, and the priest or the altar server called out to him. There was a stir, as the Communion line stopped, and everyone looked on. He stopped confused, then consumed the Host, and kept walking. The priest didn't see that, and as his friend followed, they called out to his friend to stop him. He stopped and tried to explain, while one of our volunteers in the front row tried to explain that he had already consumed it. Finally they both left.

SO. AWKWARD.

I don't blame them at all for walking straight out of the church instead of going to sit down again. And then I realized... how easily I could have changed that whole situation.

(Pause scene, screechy rewind sound and replay from the moment I notice the guys.)

Me (getting up and quietly approaching them): Hi, you guys are not Catholic, right?
Them: Er.. no.
Me: Okay, no problem, you're very welcome here. I just wanted to explain to you that only Catholics are supposed to receive Holy Communion. During this time you could stay in your seat and spend some time in prayer.
Them (apologetically): Oh sorry, we didn't know.
Me: No, no, that's fine. Many visitors don't know. But I'd be happy to answer any questions you have after the Mass is over.
Them: Thank you.

Pope Francis says in Joy of the Gospel:

The Church which “goes forth” is a community of missionary disciples who take the first step, who are involved and supportive, who bear fruit and rejoice. An evangelizing community knows that the Lord has taken the initiative, he has loved us first (cf. 1 Jn 4:19), and therefore we can move forward, boldly take the initiative, go out to others, seek those who have fallen away, stand at the crossroads and welcome the outcast. Such a community has an endless desire to show mercy, the fruit of its own experience of the power of the Father’s infinite mercy. Let us try a little harder to take the first step and to become involved.

Yup, let's do that.

An Interview with a Lay Catholic Volunteer

This is an interview I did three years ago. Re-posting so this blog actually has some content!

When and why did you decide to become a Catholic volunteer? 

Since I was a teenager, I had a desire to serve God and bring people to Him. I guess there was some amount of idealism, and wanting to change the world... and this was the way I had seen as the most meaningful and effective. Plus I had met some cool lay Catholic volunteers from a different organization who impressed me with their joy and music. But I had no idea what it really meant to be a full-timer. Still, God used even my youthful idealism, to lead me closer to His will.

Why did you decide to serve with the organization you joined? 

I was blessed with wise parents and other spiritual leaders who helped me discern through the years. I held on to my desire for ‘something more’, and kept praying and asking the Lord, “Where, Lord? With whom? When? How?” When I was 21 I met a group of lay Catholic volunteers who had come to my city on a summer volunteer trip. Their love for Jesus and the poor, their holiness and their joy gave me a glimpse of what God could do in me, and through me. I communicated with them after they left, and three years and several miracles later, I nervously boarded a plane for the first time, and left India to be trained with them.

What has been the best thing about being a lay Catholic volunteer? 

I guess it’s the knowledge that my work and my life really do make a difference. I remember working in an air conditioned office, feeling cut off from people, doing work that was interesting, but not very meaningful. Nate Saint, a martyr to Ecuador once said, “People ask me why I am wasting my life. I tell them, everyone is wasting their life on something, and when the bubble of this earthly life bursts, what will they have left of eternal significance?” I remember the eternal significance when I see people GET it- come into contact with God, go to Confession after years, slowly respond to love, fall in love with Jesus... wow. My heart feels like it’s going to burst.

What is the hardest/most difficult aspect of being a lay Catholic volunteer? 

There are different challenges for different volunteers, and also different posts. When I was in the Philippines, I guess it was being away from my family. But now I work as a volunteer in my hometown, so I’m blessed to meet my family almost every day. But I think the hardest thing in this life is that I have to come face to face with my own sinfulness and hard-heartedness. It’s easier not to remember that when I’m working an 8 hour job in front of a computer screen. But when I KNOW that my primary task each day is to love, then it’s so much easier to fail. Thankfully we have a loving, merciful God who picks us up each time we fail.

Who is your favorite saint? Why?

I’m still not sure who my FAVORITE is, but I have a special fondness for Don Bosco, because I love teaching, and have been teaching in different ways since I was 16. His rule of ‘reason, religion, and loving kindness’ is still an inspiration to me as I work with a bunch of high schoolers in a slum close to my home every day. And of course St. Therese, with her Little Way, helps me remember that God is calling me to faithfulness first- to do small things with great love.

(UPDATED: I DO know who my favorite is now- It's Saint Pope John Paul II. More on this awesome man some other time.)

What's not to love?

If you could bi-locate anywhere else and be a volunteer, where would you go? 

Oh, tough one! I have a secret desire to be a volunteer with children somewhere in Africa, which I don’t even allow myself to think about, because with India’s great needs, my heart has no space for the great need and desperation of that great continent. Still, with bilocation, God could work that out, huh?

What advice would you give to the single Catholic girls out there looking for their 'dream job' and vocation? 

Do small things with great love. It’s easy to get caught up with a dream that may have little to do with reality. As you pray and discern what God is calling you to, focus on loving the people around you and being faithful to what God has called you to in the here and now. It is in the here and now that God can speak to you, transform you, use you, and even prepare you for whatever He has for you in the future. . As Mother Teresa said, “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow is not yet here. We have only today. Let us begin.”  

Keeping It Salty

So the blog name is an obvious inside-the-Christian-circle reference to that famous bible verse- "Salt is the secret ingredient that makes all my food yummy." Oh wait, no. That's my mum. The one I'm talking about is: 'You are the salt of the earth... You are the light of the world.' Matthew 5:13

I am a full time Catholic volunteer and I have been for the past six years. When I was a lot younger, I wanted to change the world. I was a born activist (except for being lazy), outraged at injustice, quick to fire up in the defense of the oppressed. (That included stopping two ninth graders from beating up a skinny eighth grader while the other girls stood on the sidelines and cried- yes, obviously a memory I treasure.)

I had a 'normal' job for a while, but I would keep having superhero/spy movie dreams, which involved me saving the world in a dramatic and exciting manner. Oh, the idealism of youth, right? 'You'll grow out if it,' they said.

Whom did I want to save? The lost, the alone, the friendless, the unloved, the ones adrift in what seemed like an cold world. The ones trapped in their own sin, desperate for meaning, "Why don't you just become a social worker?" a friend asked once. But I didn't think social workers could change the world in a way that I thought it needed saving. The world didn't need more social workers, but more lovers.

Growing up in a Catholic charismatic community, I attended retreats and prayer meetings, parish summer clubs and camps. Not everyone who grew up in that world stayed in that world. (In other words, we weren't brainwashed.)

But in my teenage years and early twenties, in the course of all those church activities, I met a Lover, who changed everything. I found the Light that I was sure the world's darkness needed. And I heard a call from Him- 'People are looking for Me. Bring Me to them.'

Again, how? By word and by deed. By witness of life. That's where the salt comes back in. As I started working as a full time Catholic volunteer, I found a world that was hungry for authentic witness. 'Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses.' Pope Paul VI

I thought of the people who influenced me in my life, who made me want to take a deeper look into my Catholic faith. They were all people of joy, people who lived differently. They were salt and light in a world that was tasteless without what they had to offer.

“To be a witness does not consist in engaging in propaganda, nor even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery. It means to live in such a way that one’s life would not make sense if God did not exist.” Cardinal Suhard

I've realized through the years that saving the world is not usually something very dramatic. It is living a salty life. It is being fully who I am called to be, and pointing to the One who made me that way. It is living differently, responding differently, and seasoning the world with the Love that changes everything.

I started this blog to share some glimpses into this salty life.

Keep it salty, Christians!