An Eternal Instant In Montalban

Max Lucado has a beautiful term for it: the eternal instant. Those moments that remind us that everything is okay, that the King is still on the throne and life is still worth living. That love is still the greatest possession and the future is nothing to fear.

Under the warm November sun, shoulder-to-shoulder with children and adults alike, in the midst of the beloved community that has become such a big part of my life over the last year, I experienced one such eternal instant. The magnitude of God’s love suddenly overwhelmed and welled up from within and couldn’t be contained as it (as usual, much to my consternation) flooded out of my tearducts. The kids are used to my waterworks by now, but Ronalyn and Jean Rose still stared curiously – my joy in the presence of God’s people and the very privilege of witnessing His hand move in their lives over the last year left me at a loss for words.

I remember my first house visit to the shanties of Culiat, just off Visayas Avenue, more than a year ago. I had never been inside a more depressing hovel than the Valenzuela household – it wasn’t fit to house animals, much less schoolchildren! The Villarin’s little “home” was at a marked improvement – at least they had spread linoleum matting on the floor and kept it clean – but a 12 square meter box cannot, by any stretch of the imagination, be considered suitable accomodations for a family of eight. But at least it was home. Soon it wouldn’t even be that.

One day, all too suddenly, the demolition crews came and herded the whole stretch of a hundred or so families off to the hills of Montalban, to a government relocation site. The lives of “our” kids and their families were upended in an instant, as if a whirlwind had come and carried everything familiar out of sight. It was an agonizing experience just to watch. One day, I walked over to the area where the houses used to be, to find the Dorado family – Ate Ester and her eight children (here goes – Junjun, Michelle, Norman, Marvin, Oliver, Warren, Arbie, and the new baby) in limbo at the cramped barangay chapel, all their worldly possessions strewn about them. Oliver, the youngest mangangalakal who was rescued from an unfortunate Selecta ice cream cart accident and nursed to recovery by Kuya Greg, was suspicious and distant. So was his mother. Couldn’t blame them; after all, everything and everyone they knew was in transit. Their futures were uncertain. Little did I know that, because it was apparently intertwined with theirs, so was my own.

We followed them to Montalban. What other choice did we have? God had entrusted this little flock to He Cares, and we could not leave them for lost even if they had been transported to such a remote and distant place. The first few months were excruciating – so much so that, despite now having “real” concrete homes they could call their own, some families returned to the city they had been removed from. Many children, unused to the scorching Montalban heat, broke out in water and pus-filled heat boils that quickly turned into crusty sores. So far removed from the “commerce” and garbage scavenging areas of Project 6, many found it difficult to put food on the table. There were illnesses, a death, crimes, many moments of darkness – but just as the night seemed pitch black, God’s light sparked and began to burn brightly, illuminating the little community and drawing others into the welcoming warmth.

God always provides! And indeed, He did, in this little community in Montalban. Slowly, but surely, He channeled His blessings through many Christians – through the handful of committed He Cares volunteers from near and far, including three elderly trainors who generously shared their time, talents, and resources with the Montalban parents. He brought in friends from both the local government offices and other Christian communities, who are now working to make the village a better place to live. He planted the seeds of His love in the hearts of the devoted prayer meeting attendees, who began to receive weekly spiritual nourishment and experience opportunities to share their faith. He brought a smile to Oliver’s face, and put trust back into the heart of Ate Ester, and all the many other mothers who (thankfully) also weep with me when remembering His goodness over the last year. All in a year. And He’s been unstinting in His continued generosity.

Life in Montalban is worlds apart from what it used to be a year ago. The lives of the villagers are worlds different from what they used to be, in Culiat, and in the early days in Montalban. And my life is worlds away from what it used to be before Montalban was presented to me as a mission – the privilege of witnessing His abundant grace and His faithfulness over the span of a single year is more than reason enough for blessed thanksgiving and for me to look forward to more years of serving Him in this way, in Montalban or wherever He may take me. All for the greater glory of the One who has given us so much of Himself, all for the blessing of one more eternal instant.

Amen.

I thank God for He Cares – Kuya Joe Dean and Ate Ardis for inspiring and guiding and instructing by example, and for the trust in carrying out this mission; for AG and those who share this mission with us – Judith, Norman, Mike, and the Montalban boys’ household; for our faithful doctors Darleth, Mia, Bevs, and Chris Rayala; for our foreign volunteers Vince, Carol, Roy, Bert, Pia, Daniel, and Father Steve; for friends who have shared in the Montalban mission in one way or another – Weng, Melanie, Joann, Johanna, Lex, Gari, Kristin, Boyet, Ojaye – hope I didn’t forget anyone; for Bo Sanchez and Kerygma and Gawad Kalinga; for the people – children, mothers, fathers, families - God has brought into my life to love and be loved in return. My Montalban – we’ve come a long way, through God’s grace. Happy anniversary.