austraLasia #3080
My Mother's Heart
MANILA: 5 June 2012 -- Saint Therese of Lisieux wrote: “The loveliest masterpiece of the heart of God is the heart of a mother.” These words are affirmed in the womb, even before the child is born. For even if the fetus has a heart of its own, able to pump blood into its incipient form, its lungs do not yet function and it is the mother that supplies it with oxygen-rich blood. The beautiful dynamics goes beyond the womb: the mother’s heart pulsates for the child, continuously giving it life. Traditionally seen as the organ for the passions, the heart has become the symbol of love. From this enduring symbol I recall two of the many beautiful qualities of my mother: care and endurance—the heart of fire and the heart of bronze.
Care. To give birth to a child, to nurture it as it grows is a given for all mothers. Mommy was hands-on in this and much more: she was my first teacher from whom I learned the basic skills—reading, writing, arithmetic. She taught me how to pray and from her I learned many other practical skills that one cannot do without.
But my mother was also a school teacher. For almost forty years she taught high school mathematics. With her many tasks as a teacher and at an era when there were no computers, it makes me wonder how she had managed working and at the same time caring for naughty children like us. But she did! When she came home she prepared our dinner, gave us tutorials and tucked us into bed. She saw to it that everyone was all right.
Endurance. I have always seen my mother as a strong woman. When I was a little kid she would take me to Manila—to Divisoria, which was to me a hostile jungle. I clung to Mommy as she walked past the throng of people. Her skirt, which I clutched tightly, was my refuge. Nothing in the world made me feel more secure.
Mommy was able to stand on her own for several years when my father had to work abroad. It was not easy taking care of five children who occasionally gave heartaches, but there she was, the ever patient, persevering mother who raised us up in those early years. She had an inner strength that also gave her a high tolerance for the pain brought by her chronic illnesses.
The beating of my mother’s heart came to an end last March.
One morning, after going on some errands, my father went to the bedroom. My mother was lying down solving a crossword puzzle. Seeing him, Mommy invited him to take snacks. He told her that he needed to rest and would follow later. She told him that she would cook turon (sweet banana rolls). Daddy dozed off for a while and saw a fleeting vision of himself dead (cf. item below, which prompted him to ask: “If I were dead, who would take care of my wife?” He woke up and looked for her. He saw her in the kitchen: she was lying down, gasping for breath. He cried to her and put a pillow under her. He tried to carry her but could not. He asked for help but she breathed her last breath even before they could make it to the hospital. It was a heart attack.
Shakespeare put it thus:
…and by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
Yet I would like to see the event this way: On that quiet day, Mommy’s heart that had consistently pulsated to give life wanted to leap and burst forth to proclaim her love for her husband and her children. After all, only a few days before, she was able to call all her five children dispersed in different parts of the world; and now she died serving her husband. She was content. It was Jesus’ consummatum est on the cross. She saw to it that everyone was all right. It was the yearning of my mother’s heart, a true masterpiece indeed.
My Father’s Vision
March 6 was a normal day for Peping and Alice. They went to mass together and prayed for their son Edwin who was celebrating his birthday. Then Peping went out to pay some bills. For some unexplainable reason, he lost his way and the usual twenty-minute walk lasted more than an hour. He reached home exhausted and went to the bedroom to rest. Alice was lying down solving a crossword puzzle. She invited him to take some snacks and he said “I’ll go later. I am very tired and I need to rest.” Alice went to the kitchen to make turon. Peping closed his eyes and had a dream: he saw many priests and among them was his son. He saw himself dead and he kept asking if this was real. He told himself: “If I were dead, where is my wife? Who will now take care of her?” And in the dream, he searched for her. He suddenly awoke and at the first instance, he went to the kitchen and there he saw his wife, gasping for breath. Her last action was for him; her last breath, in his arms.
My Mother's Heart
by Fr Joel N. Camaya SDB
Note: Fr Camaya is from FIN but currently at Testaccio, Rome. The article was published in the Philippine Star on Mother's Day this year.
Care. To give birth to a child, to nurture it as it grows is a given for all mothers. Mommy was hands-on in this and much more: she was my first teacher from whom I learned the basic skills—reading, writing, arithmetic. She taught me how to pray and from her I learned many other practical skills that one cannot do without.
But my mother was also a school teacher. For almost forty years she taught high school mathematics. With her many tasks as a teacher and at an era when there were no computers, it makes me wonder how she had managed working and at the same time caring for naughty children like us. But she did! When she came home she prepared our dinner, gave us tutorials and tucked us into bed. She saw to it that everyone was all right.
Endurance. I have always seen my mother as a strong woman. When I was a little kid she would take me to Manila—to Divisoria, which was to me a hostile jungle. I clung to Mommy as she walked past the throng of people. Her skirt, which I clutched tightly, was my refuge. Nothing in the world made me feel more secure.
Mommy was able to stand on her own for several years when my father had to work abroad. It was not easy taking care of five children who occasionally gave heartaches, but there she was, the ever patient, persevering mother who raised us up in those early years. She had an inner strength that also gave her a high tolerance for the pain brought by her chronic illnesses.
The beating of my mother’s heart came to an end last March.
One morning, after going on some errands, my father went to the bedroom. My mother was lying down solving a crossword puzzle. Seeing him, Mommy invited him to take snacks. He told her that he needed to rest and would follow later. She told him that she would cook turon (sweet banana rolls). Daddy dozed off for a while and saw a fleeting vision of himself dead (cf. item below, which prompted him to ask: “If I were dead, who would take care of my wife?” He woke up and looked for her. He saw her in the kitchen: she was lying down, gasping for breath. He cried to her and put a pillow under her. He tried to carry her but could not. He asked for help but she breathed her last breath even before they could make it to the hospital. It was a heart attack.
Shakespeare put it thus:
…and by a sleep, to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand Natural shocks
That Flesh is heir to? 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished.
Yet I would like to see the event this way: On that quiet day, Mommy’s heart that had consistently pulsated to give life wanted to leap and burst forth to proclaim her love for her husband and her children. After all, only a few days before, she was able to call all her five children dispersed in different parts of the world; and now she died serving her husband. She was content. It was Jesus’ consummatum est on the cross. She saw to it that everyone was all right. It was the yearning of my mother’s heart, a true masterpiece indeed.
My Father’s Vision
March 6 was a normal day for Peping and Alice. They went to mass together and prayed for their son Edwin who was celebrating his birthday. Then Peping went out to pay some bills. For some unexplainable reason, he lost his way and the usual twenty-minute walk lasted more than an hour. He reached home exhausted and went to the bedroom to rest. Alice was lying down solving a crossword puzzle. She invited him to take some snacks and he said “I’ll go later. I am very tired and I need to rest.” Alice went to the kitchen to make turon. Peping closed his eyes and had a dream: he saw many priests and among them was his son. He saw himself dead and he kept asking if this was real. He told himself: “If I were dead, where is my wife? Who will now take care of her?” And in the dream, he searched for her. He suddenly awoke and at the first instance, he went to the kitchen and there he saw his wife, gasping for breath. Her last action was for him; her last breath, in his arms.
