God in the Storm

A Jeepney reader shares his thoughts on the recent tragedy that struck the country …

The recent events brought about by the rains here in the Philippines have been grave enough to make even those with the strongest faith question it. In the span of just a few hours, hundreds lost their lives; thousands lost their homes and everything they ever strove for. Floods wiped out villages, and even days after the waters had receded, knee-deep mud that left a painful reminder of the ordeal that thousands had suffered and indeed are still suffering from.

I was spared from the brunt of the storm. Tucked away safely in my 21st floor apartment I was so comfortable that I only realized the extent of the damage much later. In fact, I think it would be a falsehood for me to claim that I now realize the extent of the damage as each day newspapers are filled with harrowing reports of the sheer destruction. And though my safety was certainly a blessing that I am dearly grateful for, I could not help but feel guilty for being safe while thousands of others were not.

This semester, I’ve taken Philosophy of Religion classes and even taught a church Sunday school class for three weeks about why a God we call all-good and all-powerful would allow such things to happen. And all the rational, clean-cut answers that at the time seemed so comforting to me paled instantly and became ever so unsatisfying in light of this recent tragedy.

This blog is not about how I’ve figured out why God would let Typhoon (actually tropical storm Ondoy) occur. Though there are theories and such that theists propose in the wake of events such as these, the fact of the matter is that I will never truly know (at least on this side of eternity). However, I do have some words of encouragement that I would like to share with any others struggling with a similar dilemma.

In the past weeks, we have asked ourselves why God would let us go through so much pain and not do anything to stop it. Perhaps this analogy can help.

Picture a young child being led to the dentist by her loving mother. It‘s time for a painful dental procedure, one that will last hours and cause excruciating pain. As the child goes through the pain, she cries not only because of the dentist’s drill but also because of the fact that it was her own mother that brought her to see this man. As she sits strapped to the dentist’s chair, she thinks to her, “surely, Mummy can make this man stop this.” As time goes on, she begins to hate her mother. Feeling betrayed she bellows in pain, “I’ll never speak to you ever again.”

But as time went by, the young girl, though still in terrible pain and though still untrusting of her mother, realizes that her hands are grasped tightly in her mothers. She clings on tight as ever and this helps ease her pain. The child remembers the mother’s goodness all throughout her life and how she’s always provided everything that she needed. The child looks up and through her tears, sees tears streaking down from the mother’s eyes. And though the child still doesn’t understand why what is going on is happening, she holds on to her mother even tighter.

We are the little girl, Ondoy was our dentist appointment, and God is the mother.

We all know exactly how the trip to the dentist, as painful as it was, was meant by the mother for the child’s good. With God and Ondoy, we are not as wise; however, through faith, we still cling to God with all we have.

In this time of pain we must humble ourselves and draw near to the one that holds all things together. We must remember His goodness and grace to us in the past and trust in all His promises for our present and our future. And as we look up to the heavens even in the midst of all this pain, perhaps we would see God shedding tears for us as well.

Itunu Olusegun Kuku

About the Author:

Itunuoluwa means comfort of God in his native language Yoruba in Nigeria.

He chose to use the nickname “K” after arriving in the Philippines in 2003. According to his Multiply site, he wrote; “When you move to a new country where no one knows a thing about you, you’ll realize you can introduce yourself to people as John Smith or whatever suits your fancy.”

K is a 20-year old student in Ateneo majoring in Development Studies, initially to follow his father’s footsteps as a diplomat. He is also a member of the school’s track and field team and is also a high jumper. He plays the guitar for a band called AKROSS, an acronym for A King Risen Over Sin and Suffering.

Filed under: Stories

Lost Wallet

I think what Emily did was unusual. Three times in the past year I have returned to establishments to look for sunglasses. I have a problem with leaving my sunglasses on coffee tables. Three times my sunglasses have disappeared and no one has a clue.

Monday morning our social worker brought up a story that took place over the weekend. Emily was selling the Jeepney at Eastwood Mall and she found a wallet. Someone had dropped it. There was no picture ID or identification, but there was money and of course there was the leather wallet.

“Don’t turn it in.” Someone said. “If you do, they will just keep it.”

But Emily waited, thinking the person may come back. And sure enough an hour later she spotted someone looking around as if they had lost something.

Long story short, the wallet was returned. The woman wanted to give Emily a reward, but Emily said, “No, you need the money and I need the money. How about if you just buy a magazine?”

The lady bought three.

The guard, who has been stationed there, has been a bit concerned about our vendors, who in the recent past were homeless street people. Emily’s honesty has won him over.

— W.Shaw

Filed under: Stories

Rebuilding Agham Road: Second Day with Chu Yen

It is too early to know all this second day will bring. Days seem to bring heartache and hope here.

I walked in our office and found Chu Yen still sleeping. That was good. Reah Medenilla, our social worker, was already up and working. It was around 7:30 in the morning.

Chu Yen’s mother had an accident yesterday. While selling small things like batteries, flashlights, calculators and other things she has in a bag, she was hit by a car and could not get up. Her legs would not work. She is currently in the hospital, that’s as far as we know. Later today we will find out more, when Reah visits. The siblings requested that we don’t tell Chu Yen. Give her peace.

Today, Chu Yen will have a little peace, together with three glasses of milk, toast with jam, pancakes, mangoes, graham crackers and sweet juice to give her strength top it off with aspirin to relieve her pain. She will be visiting a pediatrician, and wear clean clothes while resting on a mattress by the fan.

It’s hard to see and know her like this and we have some heartache for her. Heartache but with hope.

Filed under: Stories

Rebuilding Agham Road: The Day Chu Yen Joy Moved In

It’s July 8, 2009, a Wednesday, but I had to stop and think about that, because the days and nights have been running together like the ash and dirt of a fire after the rain.

What do you do with a child is nearing death, in pain, and without a home? What do you do? These are questions we would have to face if we choose to ask them but we rarely do.

Chu Yen Joy sits very silently, and softly. Her hands rest on her knees, her head rests on her chest and her knees pinch together. When you ask her a question, her eyes slowly come up until they are looking into yours, but her head barely moves. She is saving her energy.

The Jeepney office does many things, like hold five desks, three computers, stores magazines, printers, fax machine, chairs, stools, and photos for our booths. This is the home of a magazine, the Homeless World Cup and six staff members. It is around 12 feet x 16 feet.

Now it holds a bed. The air-conditioner has been replaced with a fan, and the windows are open so the sound of a man sweeping, honking horns and the tethered fighting roosters invade our conversation and our work, but we need the ventilation for Chu Yen’s condition is very contagious.

Chu Yen Joy is still alive today. In that we rejoice. She suffers from asthma, tuberculosis arthritis and severe malnutrition. The settlement she was living in was razed by fire two weeks ago. She has been sleeping on the dirt since then, with her six siblings and widowed mother. She was almost dying painfully in the monsoon heat and rain of this urban land.

Filed under: Stories