(Note: this article is a shortened version of the cover story of Kerygma Magazine’s Valentine issue in 1997[?]. The original article included discussions on discernment which I will not bore you with.)

Under the Mercy

Obscure sparks

It all began in the first semester of 1985. It wasn’t boy meet girl. It was boy gazed at girl. In the busy cafeteria, her sparkling brown hair and fair cheeks glistened in the crowd. She was, as pretty freshmen coeds went, too busy entertaining the senior hunks to regard his puny figure. Yet from his corner, the world stood still save for the throbbing of a heart which spark-plugged a dream–a dream so intensely quiet that no human soul sensed it. Thank heavens this world is not all human. Someone wiser and kinder must have noted that sigh.

Holy Frogs of untold blessings!

After that first sight, what followed were more chance meetings and furtive glances (on my part at least. She will never to this day admit that she did notice me then—one day she will), till some months later, when we were sophomores, a common friend, my coursemate in BS Biology and her kababayan, introduced us to each other. Vane asked for his help to catch a frog and dissect it for her elective class in biology 11. But since he had another appointment, he passed me on to her. By that time, my coursemates and I had become resident experts in amphibian torture, er… dissection, well recognized on campus as the go to guys for these highly technical procedures. By then I had cut up 12 live ones.

Looking back, I wonder why I ever took BS Biology. I signed up for BS Psychology but for some strange reason was accepted in biology. I had no interest in anything medical, fainted twice when I tried to give blood, passed out when circumcised. But I fancied being in an honors course– for a while of course till they kicked out duds like me. So the only logic of that detour was for me to know how to cut up frogs in order to bag me a princess in the process. She must really be special, because that was quite an expensive detour. This proves that some real life croakers do get lucky.

I remember our first conversation in the summer of `86. Among other things, we talked about our wariness of the way people entered or fell into intimate relationships. We concluded with a general decision not to enter into any form of relationship at that time. With that assurance, the friendship took off. We were so sure the friendship was right, and excited at love’s blossoming. So came two years of mainly unastute, arrogantly cocksure, emotion-to-the-hilt, hand-in-hand love adventure capped by sunset rendezvous. It was friendship-cum-amor (eeww what was that!!!)

You And Me Against the World

Fortunately, (though it did not seem so at that time) our more mature friends noticed the untimeliness of our relationship. Our response to their caution was true to puppy love format. We resisted their caution, and swore that the classic love song was written for us:

“We kissed in the shadows,
we hide from the moon.
Our meetings are few,
and over too soon.”

To be sure, the meetings were not few nor over too soon. But since lovers’ benchmark of time was nothing less than eternity (count the love songs that contain the words `forever, always, endless, for all time,’ etc…), no time spent together was long enough.

If not for His mercy…

Remember, however, that no one is as relentlessly persistent a Lover as God. It became clearer through the years that God had quietly been whispering to me that he wanted Vanè for Himself. So in the spirit of my great ancestor Odysseus, I stood ready to defy any god that diverted the course of my love’s destiny. Armed to the teeth with towering passion, and locked in each other’s tight embrace, we swore our eternal union.

Yet gods be gods, and truth alone can set us free–so we eventually submitted to truth’s initial misery. How ironic that as our relationship was growing stronger, so grew our sense that something deep inside was amiss. Gradually, the outgoing, friendly, service-oriented couple that we used to be was becoming more withdrawn. The enthusiasm we drew from and offered to our friends, school, community, service, and family, we now fenced into our selfish little world.

I realized that for a love relationship to be authentic, it should give life, expand our horizons, and open us confidently to greater circles of friendships, and service to God and our fellows. But why was ours caving in?

Timing Is The Whole Enchilada

The initial answer came to me one morning as I was alone in prayer. In the stillness a story came to me which helped me appreciate our situation. So it goes:

A little boy would regularly stop by the store window after school to behold his prized toy- a mechanical tin soldier found only in that shop because the shop owner himself made it. There were other toys that would fancy his gaze, but none else captured his heart. The amount he’d been setting aside from his baon told him that by Christmas he could take the prized toy home. However, as days passed, the longing grew, and Christmas seemed too far away. So one desperate night, he shattered the store window by throwing a rock at it. The sleeping store guard stirred, leaving him little time to reach in and grab the prized gadget. With the sound of quickened boots getting louder, he darted into the shadows, clutching the stolen prize. Suddenly, he tripped and crashed into the sidewalk. Something cracked in his hand. His beautiful prize was broken. As he limped home, a quick check showed that it still worked. A month passed. Early one morning, a gentle caress awakened him. His mom was the first to greet him—it was his birthday. Beside her lay a wrapped gift. It was a dictionary. Then sadly she explained, “I’m sorry son. This is the next best gift I can find for you. A month ago, the gift I reserved for you was reportedly stolen from the town store.”

That hurt real bad. I was the impulsive little rascal. I knew deep within that Vanè was right for me. That was not the problem. The problem lay in the timing. Somehow, I had to accept the painful truth that after all that cocksure confidence, I was too young to handle a relationship that required mature commitment. Destiny favors a prepared soul. With this growing realization, and after long struggles (and I mean long and pa-urong-sulong), we decided to part ways; thus began what I considered my ten year odyssey in search of home (well it seemed like ten years).

The Detour to Last a Lifetime

A few months after our separation (by this time I had started my career as a teacher, and she in a bank), for some strange reason, when my time came to formally discern my state of life, I was drawn to investigating the single blessed life. I joined the Servants of the Word, an international lay brotherhood whose members live single for the Lord. This stage lasted more than two years.

Looking back, one may wonder, “If at the end I was still called to married life, then why more than two years of detour? Wasn’t it just a waste of time?” I respond with a resounding no. Ironically, those two years prepared me for marriage more than any other time in my life. Here I appreciated one principle that allowed me to see marriage and relationships in their right place.

Iggy’s Principle and Foundation

In the brotherhood, I had the privilege of witnessing up close men who lived by what St. Ignatius considers the Principle and foundation of human existence:

[human love]…no matter how noble, is not the ultimate end and must never be pursued as such. God alone, His glory and my salvation for his glory are the only legitimate end or goal of my life, and everything else in life is subordinated to that end…All things have to be used or set aside insofar as they help or hinder me in respect to my goal.

Apart from this needed re-centering of self to God, I reaped countless other blessings in the brotherhood. First, it protected me from my own desires to prematurely pursue an intimate relationship again before I could settle my own personal growth. It was there too that I confronted my fears, my limitations, and my wrong notions of relationships. There I re-surrendered my life and future to God.

Who’s Holding Panggà Now?

One of my fears during our separation was who would take care of Vanè now that we were apart. Having been used to taking care of each other, the fear now seemed reasonable. But oh how I underestimated God’s love. For didn’t He say that He wanted her for himself? And true to his good form, when I let her go, He took care of her, lavished her with all the love that my poor human love fell as crumbs in comparison. In fact, seeing her grow in confidence from a distance made me realize that for the most part my being in her life stunted her growth more than fostered it. What a crying shame for me to even think that she’d grow best in my arms!

Ok good for her. But what about me? (Coming Soon in part 2).