This morning, at around 7:30, the driver of the Wheelmobile texted: he'd be late because he was picking up his wife and child from the province. I didn't bother to ask how late was late because the last time he said he'd be late he later called to say he wouldn't be able to come. So why bother?
Luckily, my husband insisted he was way all right and so we went.
Again the most well laid out plan can go awry if God so wills it. While I was hoping we would be at Gesu by 8 a.m., at 8:15 we were still in the garage, waiting for son to come out. See, he had two gigs last night and was wide awake till around 3 a.m. I kept waking up and chiding him to sleep and he assured me he'd wake up. He did at 7:30 when I woke him up, but true to the proclivity of his father's family, he took his time. So we were able to leave the house at past 8:15.
Luckily for us, traffic was light, and luckily for us, there was a parking slot for the disabled at the admin section of Ateneo. But guess what, because of the long time it took us to leave the house, there was rain, not just a drizzle when we alighted from the car, so somehow we were not exactly drenched but wet enough. Scholastics smiled as they saw us enter the church because perhaps we looked like wet ducks, dripping a little. And possibly, the wheelchair I sat on was wet because after son brought it out in the rain, he went to hold the umbrella over his father's head. See, the wheelchair couldn't have been dry. But I didn't notice because down there, I cannot feel. Ignorance is indeed bliss.
The church was not that full yet, husband got two Monobloc chairs for him and son to sit on at the back close to the electric fans. I could hardly see what was happening out at the altar nor in the middle aisle because people obstructed my view. But I was happy enough to not fret. Six men were ordained to the Society of Jesus, I was there, feeling blessed at having been invited.
Soon the seats ran out and some people were standing. Son smiled at someone behind us and when I asked to whom, he looked back, looked to his side and pointed out his Filipino teacher a year ago. Not exactly old but older than he. I contemplated on asking him to give his chair to the teacher but was in a quandary. Son after all lacked sleep and one never knew. There was an old lady in front of us, also standing. She had a maid with her. Her companions had chairs but I sensed no move on their part to offer these to her. They looked younger than she.
Then, just before the homily, son whispered, "mama, I'll give her my chair ha." I nodded, touched at my son's gallantry/chivalry - whatever the apt word is. And the lady smiled. I was happy. Years back when I was still walking, I had done the same in the college chapel, and see, I've never wanted for a chair. God gave me a permanent one. In this case, though, I prayed to him not to give the same to my son.
As the ceremony proceeded, I was yawning no end, my husband's eyes were alternating between sleep and not. Son was nodding off. What a family. But really if you've been to an ordination, especially of six men, it's not a short ceremony. In fact, what started out at 8:30 promptly, finished at 11. Think about reciting the long litany of so many saints. THink of all the Jesuits lining up and hugging in welcome each of the six men. Perhaps there were a hundred Jesuits? If fewer, it seemed like a hundred. Were they more?
Saw some relatives after the ceremony. The congregation was asked to line up if we wished to receive the priestly blessings of the six. But we chatted on with some relatives who weren't lining up either. LAter, husband said, cousin was already blessing people. We thought he was merely chatting with the people who came to greet him. So we lined up. And finally reached him. ANd he blessed us. As we moved to get our umbrellas so we could leave for the reception, noticed that cousins were gone. They hadn't lined up for the blessing. It was past 12 by then and they had presumably left for the reception.
Our house being close by, husband felt inclined to change because he could still feel the dampness of his clothing. I didn't bother to alight from the car as I waited for him and son. I drank some water to refresh me. The noonday heat was draining me.
When we finally arrived at Ayala Hillside Estates, it so felt like Punta Fuego. Nice houses, son said one might be Regine's. He had been there months ago, not to Regine's house but to the clubhouse for his friend's debut.
the guard at the gate of the subdivision was very cordial. When son asked for exact directions, he drew out a map mounted in cardboard and covered with plastic. Then he smilingly pointed out the path we should take.
At the parking lot of the clubhouse, we looked for any sign of a ramp. None. But there were only two steps to the clubhouse, no, make that three. ANd so this time, with son and two men helping him, I in my wheelchair was lifted up the steps, and wheeled to the venue. There were only two tables empty. We took one of them and before long, 3 men and two ladies joined us after asking if they could.
Prior to reaching the clubhouse, a cousin texted to ask where we were. She said they had begun eating even without priest-cousin around. She raved about the food. Later I found out it was catered by City Grill which the sister of priest-cousin owns.
Indeed the food was great. Usually, catered food in such affairs are plentiful but ho-hum. This time, food was really good. There was a salad buffet - lettuce leaves, corn, ham and bacon bits, parmesan cheese and a choice of dressings. The main courses inlcuded barbecued pork ribs, chicken that had basil sauce, dory, shrimp pasta, Javanese rice.
After we were done with the lunch, I asked son to get me some dessert. By then, cousin who had texted me had joined us, seating behind and between son and me. She was frequenting the dessert tables and ate what she had on her plate as we talked. Son got me tocino del cielo and a thin slice of black and white jelly. Not knowing that son had done so, husband got me a bigger slice of the jelly.
Cousin had so many more choices on her plate. And she'd ask me if I wanted some and she'd stand up and get me some. Note that this cousin is maybe sixty plus but looks young and energetic. So she stood up to get me strawberries. Then she asked, want them dipped in chocolate? I said yes. She went back to the dessert table. She asked you want some pastillas? I said yes. But she came back empty-handed. They had run out. I can't remember what else she got for me but I was most appreciative of her solicitousness.
At 2, long after most of the guests had finished eating, priest-cousin arrived with a few companions. Applause greeted him and before he could settle down to eat, his dad or mom would bring him to a table of old ladies who wanted to be blessed. As he went through the rigors/motion, his smile was ever-present. When we sensed he didn't have too many people to greet (he was near the food table), we decided to say goodbye after a photo op, just one photo.As we waited our turn, his mom gave him some cash from an aunt and he said for her to keep first. His mom said, Okay, I'll list down everything but be sure to write thank you notes to everyone. Such motherly reminder made me smile. Here was a mom of a newly ordained priest possibly in his early 40s or late 30s, reminding her son to write thank you notes. A mother's job is never done. No matter what station a child has reached, his mother remains his mother and she'll never forget that nor allow her child to do so.
Congratulations/blessings, Robbie. May you be happy in the road you chose to travel, the path you chose to take, the road/load less traveled by. (This a.m., when I was writing the dedication on the card for our gift, I mistakenly wrote load instead of road and had to correct that error. But I thought, it was a good way of putting it as well, a serendipitous slip of the pen if one allowed it.)
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