THE PARISH PASTORAL COUNCIL

One early Friday evening, I got a phone call from a friend who is currently serving in the parish pastoral council. He said that my name had been submitted for consideration to fill in one of three positions being vacated. He stated that the process, called discernment, would be quiet a long but spiritual process when candidates answer a series of questions, and would be judged by how they expressed themselves in the process.

I wondered who put my name in for consideration. But as I was on my way to Grace Hall that Saturday morning, I felt very enthusiastic about the prospect of being at service to the church. There were the usual introductions of the current members. The pastor explained the process of discernment, and he said that it was fortuitous that there were three vacancies and there were three of us nominated. He then declared us members filling in the vacancies. Each of the new members was given the opportunity to introduce him/herself.

My involvement with the church dates back in the elementary school. Being in a public school, we had optional religious instruction from one of two catechists. She did this after school. That is how I learned my prayers and basic knowledge of the Catholic church, the bible, and the Holy Mass. She prepared me for Holy Communion. After graduating from college, a new parish priest was assigned to our church. He was a young priest who became popular among the youth for his progressive thoughts, a far-cry from the elderly parish priests who have served in the parish.

The new parish priest attracted volunteers to the church. Attendance to the Sunday masses increased immensely. Mass music was more contemporary, and a youth choir was formed. The parish priest delivered the most thoughtful and best prepared homilies. Parishioners gave more, and those who were well-off, donated more to the church. Physical improvements to the church were realized. I was a soloist and I was asked to sing in weddings and funerals. Together with a few members of the church choir, I went with the parish priest to the villages when he celebrated Mass. ( The same parish priest officiated my wedding in 1982. He asked me if I would sing on my wedding. I told him I would rather not. He found an excellent musician who sang during the wedding ceremony.)

In Waco, my wife and I became members of the televised Sunday Mass choir at our church. Alternately we provided liturgical music at a Sunday Mass at a retirement home chapel. When the home closed and moved to another newly-constructed facility, we continued to provide music to the Sunday Mass at the new place until our pianist moved to Florida to live there. We were members of our parish choir for a few years. I taught the Wednesday night CCE class (5th grade) for a number of years. Due to the growing pressures of work and the time we had to spend after school, we had to beg off from the choir and CCE.

The PASTORAL COUNCIL is to be a representative body of the faithful whose focus is on the whole community - its beliefs, its hopes, its joys, its needs, its sorrows, its concerns, its gifts, and its pursuit of the Church's mission. The council provides a means of uniting the parish community in expressing its collective wisdom concerning pastoral plans and activities. The pastoral council is to guard against serving special interest groups.

Because of the council's unique existence, there is a perpetual eliciting of the needs and concerns of the community. Each council has the dual obligation to perceive and to deliberate. Each council member must make special effort to understand and to implement the consultative process. In this process, each member is to share his/her wisdom regarding the issue being considered. A common conclusion among the members is not required when functioning as a consultative body, but the process of seeking consensus is very helpful in providing quality consultation. Each council must take time to develop spiritually so as to be more keenly aware of the Spirit's presence and functioning within the council and within the whole parish community.

As a new member of the parish pastoral council, I must ---

a) demonstrate a commitment to the parish community;
b) commit myself to spiritual growth;
c) commit myself to skills development as part of the Christian leadership process;
d) be willing to commit necessary time and energy to offer effective consultation;
e) be willing to support, encourage, and diligently work toward implementation of Synod recommendations;
f) be familiar with programs of various diocesan commissions and/or standing committees; and
g) be willing to take time and make the effort to open myself to the training and group process of the formation of council
rationale.

When I accepted the nomination to be a member of the pastoral council, I did not have any idea as to what I was getting myself into. I know now that I have seriously considered the call to serve the parish community in this capacity. What a great honor for my family and me! May the Lord give me the guidance and wisdom through prayer, reflection, and dialogue as well as study, research and consultation, so that I could give my best possible decisions on whatever concerns at hand.

FILIPINO CHRISTMAS, ANYONE?

The Philippines is said to have the longest season in the world. As early as September, Christmas carols start to play on the radio and in stores, and festive decorations go up in stores and in people's homes.

Things you will need:                            

       Christmas presents

       musical instruments

       parol (paper lantern)

      ginger teas (salabat)

      hamon

      Filipino music

Steps:

1. Play Filipino Christmas tunes, such as "Pasko na Sinta Ko" and " Malamig ang simoy..."

2. Attend "Misa de Gallo", a Mass held at dawn consecutively starting on December 16 to mark the nine-day novena.

3. Hang "parols", or star-shaped lanterns that have candles or bulbs inside in the front of your house.

4. Purchase native foods such as "puto bumbong" (rice steamed inside a small bamboo tube), "bibingka", (rice cake with salted eggs and fresh coconut meat, "suman", (steamed rice wrapped in banana leaves), and "tupig" (stickrice wrapped in banana leaves and grilled in a George Foreman grill).

5. Expect "cumbancheros", or carolers with made-up musical instruments to serenade you and the 

    neighborhood, expecting for cash.

6. Attend the midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. This is the special event when people wear their best and children their new clothes.

7. Gather with family, relatives and friends (even neighbors!) for the "Noche Buena" midnight meal. This is followed by the exchange and opening of gifts, which lasts through the next morning.

8. Arrange to visit family and friends on Christmas Day.

9. Remember that the holiday season draws to a close with the Feast of the Three Kings on the very first Sunday of January. The kings followed a star to find the manger where Jesus was born to present Him with gifts.

Post Scripts:

The first Christmas celebrated in the Philippines was in 1565, when the Spanish colonizers brought the holiday to the islands.

"Maligayang Pasko" means Merry Christmas.

Traditional foods served for Noche Buena are homemade ham, lechon (roast pig), egg rolls, noodle dishes ("pansit"), hot "tsokolate" (native chocolate drink), and "salabat", ginger tea. "Bibingka," a pancake served in banan leaves and topped with coconut and brown sugar, is a favorite dessert.

CODY

It was my third year at the school district I am employed with. After two long years of adjustment to teaching culturally-diverse children in a U.S. school, I was slowly getting used to the challenges I faced, coming from a totally different culture and geographical origin, most especially the classroom management issues. In simple words, student discipline.

I had a class full of varied personalities and wide-ranged abilities --- Matthew, the knows-it-all academic achiever who knew more about computers than I did; Anthony, who was constantly upset at everybody and at every situation; Jennifer, the smart girl who would ask, "Where do I sit, Sir?" in perfect British accent; Naomi, whose mother was Vietnamese, was very lady-like in her manners and mode of dress; Jeremy, who always looked sharp and wanted to be a rapper; Marina, who had a ready suggestion to how we could make our classroom the best place to be; john, who covered his ears every time I burst into instructions in a tune, among twenty-two students in my class.

And then there was Cody (not his real name). He wore those wide-rimmed glasses and the widest grin. (There were six other students who wore glasses in the class. I wore a pair, so there were eight of us in all.) Cody was mischievous and was all over the classroom. It was not clear to me if he had ADD or ADHD, for I do not recall if he took medication or not. Other than being hyperactive, Cody was a very well-mannered, respectful boy who was not showing his level best, mainly because of his classroom behavior.

Whenever necessary, when the class had seatwork to do, I would take Cody out of the classroom, right by the door so I could watch the class from the glass window of the door. I would talk to him and would ask him if he wanted to talk to me about anything that was bothering him. He would open up and share information about the situation he was in at the moment. His father was incarcerated, and I could sense his excitement whenever he was scheduled to visit him. At times, he would burst into frustration with the thought of not having his own father to watch his soccer games. I was invited to one of his games. I don't recall if I did go, but I know now, that I should have gone.

I have had several groups of 5th graders pass through my class since I had Cody. Out of that particular batch of 5th graders, one graduated valedictorian of his class in a local high school, a few working at the movie theater box office, and others married with children. But I heard nothing about Cody. Until lately.

Scanning through the district website one night, I came across an ad from a lady whose family name rang a bell. She mentioned about her son coming home for a brief vacation from the navy. Out of curiosity, I emailed the lady and asked if her son was named Cody. She replied and proved my guts right --- it was Cody indeed.

"Your class was about the only positive experience he had in the district, " she wrote. She attached Cody's photo in navy uniform. I felt so proud of my former student!

I asked about how Cody had been. I got the following email back.

I learned that Cody had a very rough time and was headed down the wrong path, so he was sent to the Texas Baptist Children's Home. He spent four years there, and graduated from a Round Rock high school in 2004. TBCH did wonders for him and completely turned his life around. He joined the navy a year ago. His mother hopes that he would make a career in the navy.

Cody is doing great in the navy. His assignment is Aviation Electrician... He is really grown up, and has become a man...He got a lot out of your class. I remember you giving him a lot of one-on-one help which he really needed at that time. I will tell him you asked about him, and how proud you are of him. He will be happy to hear from you. We will all still be working when he comes to town. He'll probably want to come over for a visit. I bet he would come over in uniform. It would be a treat for the kids, I bet.

I eagerly look forward to meeting Cody after 10 years. I am so proud of having been a part of his early education. The kind words from his mother bring warmth to my heart. Teachers don't get the gratitude that they deserve a lot. I got my dose. I have actually made a difference in a child's life!

This is the reward of teaching that is priceless.

2705 PINE VALLEY DRIVE

the night eternally dragged
light peeps through the blinds
yet there's total darkness.
birds sing early morning songs,
I can't hear the music.
trees sway with the wind
my thoughts drifting.
spring showers fall like
the tears I have shed.
the ceiling is blank
my mind empty
in this luxuriously
cozy room
I long for comfort.
when will this end?
I wonder.
helpless, I look up
as I touch the rosary beads.
with no one around
I am the fortress of me.

(The friends and family who knew the circumstances behind this poem written on March 15, 1994 while in Harlingen, Texas would fully understand the emotion embodied in it. Thank you, Nila Wipf, Tess and Seto De Gracia, Mel and Cielo Ascio for your loving concern, and Lee and Mike Clark for providing me refuge in those difficult times.)

SOMETHING HAPPENED WHILE WE WERE ON OUR WAY TO A BIRTHDAY PARTY

Throughout the world, celebrating one's birthday is universal. It is the time in one's life to look back at the past year and the realization that he/she is one year older. There are the usual presents to the honoree, a birthday cake, homemade or ordered from a bake shop, family and friends wishing the honoree well, the singing of "Happy Birthday to you..." as the candles are blown, each guest eagerly waiting to be served a slice of the cake.

My wife and I, together with our youngest son and our lady friend, drove to Austin on a Saturday morning to join in the celebration of a friend's 67th birthday. We were rather early, but we were invited to lunch, and our idea of lunch was at 12ish, but I learned later from the invited guests (most of whom were originally from Mexico who work with our friend's wife), that lunch to them would be about 3:00 p.m.

Before we left Waco, my middle son arrived to spend the weekend at home. He needed to have a tomato costume sewn by his mother. Since we knew he had to wake up early and skip breakfast to catch us up before we left, his mother put a homemade lasagna prepared by a good friend, in the oven to bake in the oven. He was reminded to check the oven in an hour. His mother left the phone to him as he laid down on the couch to go back to sleep.

We were passing through Georgetown, and since it had been an hour since the lasagna was put in the oven, my wife started to call our son to check the oven. He did not answer. His mother dialed the home number once, twice, thrice...ten times, but there was no answer. She began to panic. She was so angered by our sons failure to pick up the phone. She thought of calling 911. What if the lasagna was burnt, the house was in smoke, and our son passed out due to smoke inhalation? Or could there have been a break-in, and something happened to our son? I discouraged her to call 911, but suggested that she called our friend to call Kevin. She did, and asked her if she would she please go to the house and check on Kevin? My wife, our youngest son, and our friend took turns calling the house and our son's cell phone at closer intervals.

Then we got a call from home. It was our son! He was safe! It turned out that he was in a deep sleep. Thanks to our friend who drove to our home to wake him up. The lasagna was burnt. My wife expressed her disappointment about our sons irresponsible behavior. There's no use crying over burnt lasagna, but she wanted to vent out how she felt which went on a little while more when we got home. Her reaction was only natural for a mother like her.

At the birthday party, we met teachers who came from Mexico to take teaching jobs in the Austin area. We found a common thread --- the fact that we were immigrants all involved in the education of American children, going through similar challenges.We encouraged one another to meet every challenge. We shared one another's experiences,

discovered the commonality of our cultures, since our countries were under the Spanish rule.

The perfect hosts that they were, our couple friends served a medley of traditional Filipino foods--- "dinuguan" (chocolate meat), menudo, chicken and pork adobo,roasted pork, kare-kare (oxtail stew in peanut sauce), biko (sticky rice with caramel topping), embutido, etc. A Pinoy birthday party is not complete without pansit, rice noodles. The long noodle strings denote long life for the celebrant. There were three birthday cakes, sticky rice with caramelized sugar topping, and "fruta de leche".

Of course, there was beef brisket (that's the American part of the menu, in addition to the cakes).

The fellowship of the hosts and the guests was very satisfying, not to mention the food that catered to our appetite. This was not the time to think about calories. Neither was it the time to think of our health conditions. We could do that after this one feast. It was the time to indulge. In the food. In the fellowship.

Our best wishes to Manong Alvy on his birthday.

Lord, we thank You for our friends. Bless and keep them, these special persons You created and filled with qualities that have meant so much to us. Thank You for all the times we've shared. Bless our friendship. Amen.

THANKSGIVING 2007

My oldest son called last night from San Diego, where he currently is on assignment as a travel nurse. He moved there in the middle of September. His assignment will end in January. He is coming home on Thanksgiving Day! He had to make arrangements with the other nurses at the hospital so he could come home to be with us. My middle son, a college freshman, will be waiting for his brother at DFW, then they will be driving home for our family Thanksgiving dinner.

Back in my home country, I remember that we had a Thanksgiving day, but it did not have anything to do with the Pilgrims and the Wampanoags celebrating. No thanksgiving dinner, much more --- no turkey on the dinner table, because it was rare and expensive.

In Waco, we rarely have a Thanksgiving dinner at home exclusively for the family. There is a couple who hosts a party for their friends, us included, and we go to their home and celebrate.

There is a lot of things we are thankful for. My family values the opportunity to have lived in the land of opportunity. We are grateful for our jobs in educating the children in this part of Waco. We are thankful for our three sons who have done great things that any parent could be proud of. We thank God for the loyal friends who surround us.

On Thanksgiving day, we plan to have turkey and all the trimmings that go with a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. This time it will be exclusively for the family. At our humble home.

"Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever." --- Ps. 106:1 NIV
"Let us give thanks to the Lord for His unfailing love and His wonderful deeds for men."
--- Ps. 107:31 NIV

WHY I AM HERE

In December of 1993, I was among a group of 19 teachers from the Philippines who arrived in Texas to take teaching jobs here. We were recruited by a teacher placement agency. I left behind my wife and two sons, ages 10 and 5, a master teacher 2 position, and a prospective job as college instructor at a branch of the top state teacher-training university. What a journey it has been! My family is here, a third son was born and is now in second grade. The oldest son is a registered nurse who has decided to see the United States as a travel nurse. The middle one is out to college. My wife is also a teacher. Waco has become our home. We are in close proximity to the Dallas Metroplex and Austin. We are about 4 hours away from Houston via Highway 6 and San Antonio via I-35.