Twenty-Eight Years and Counting – Devotion to Our Lady of Fatima

This evening, a block rosary prayer session was once again held in our home. Beloved neighbors came, and together with my entire family we all prayed the Holy Rosary before the image of Our Lady of Fatima.

After praying the rosary, we had a “salo-salo” (a casual dinner party), and then we transferred the image to the home of a neighbor. My nephew Miguel carried the image of Our Lady to bring it to the nearby home of Mr. and Mrs. Acebedo. After two weeks there will be another rosary prayer session in their home, and the image will once again be transferred to the home of another neighbor. This process will go on and on for the rest of the year, just as it already has for nearly three decades. Indeed it was only last January 2011 that the rosary prayer sessions started to be held only every other Saturday, because for all the previous years it has always been every Saturday. My Mom is not as young as she used to be, therefore I advised her to make it easier for herself by adopting the two week interval.

For exactly twenty-eight (28) years now, my Mom has been leading the Mystical Rose Block Rosary of Phase 3-A (Gatchalian Subdivision, Las Piñas) in bringing the image of the Blessed Mother to virtually every home in the neighborhood. Thus, by the grace of God, the Mystical Rose Block Rosary has been able to pray the Most Holy Rosary for the benefit of each host-family, practically every Saturday starting at 7:00pm, with near perfect continuity and regularity from the time that my Mom started this activity in June 1983. Evidently, this blessed image has been a significant instrument of faith and prayer – and of the resulting graces and blessings – for the more than forty (40) families that have repeatedly and wholeheartedly welcomed and prayed to it every year since 1983.

A full-fledged devotee to the Blessed Mother since childhood, Mom is a Pharmacist-Entrepreneur and Piano Teacher by profession. She used to be the President of the Catholic Women’s League – and she also used to serve as Lector, Cantor, and Commentator – at the Our Lady of the Most Holy Rosary Parish Church in Multinational Village when Gatchalian (the subdivision we live in) was still a part of that parish. She has semi-retired from parish activities but still attends Holy Mass every day, most often at the Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception Parish Church in Gatchalian.

Mom was motivated to start Mystical Rose when her youngest son, my baby brother, Franco Nilo passed away (due to a congenital heart disease) at the age of 9 in April 1983. Dad, Francisco Sr. or “Frank,” subsequently also passed away (also due to a heart ailment) at the age of 42 in June 1984, thus further increasing Mom’s dependence on God.

My Kuya Manny and I were merely in third-year and first-year college respectively back in 1983. Mom therefore struggled to raise the two of us, with some help coming only from her own mother, my grandma, Aurora (otherwise known to everyone as Nanay), who also already passed away in November 2009.

Manny has now long been a professional Engineer, indeed even his eldest son Miguel (who turns 23 next week) has already earned his own engineering degree, having recently graduated from Mapua. Manny’s marriage to his wife Luz has also always been blessed, and their only daughter Mariz (18) is a Pharmacy student following in the footsteps of her Grandma. Their youngest Mark Luiz (11), on the other hand, is being doted upon and closely watched by his blogger of an uncle so that just like his elder siblings Miguel and Mariz he will be more likely than not to someday have a fulfilling life and career. The uncle on the other hand have so far had his prayers often answered too as regards his own life and career – just a simple guy doing okay in his own simple way.

As for Maria Nelda, aka Mommy, figuratively and literally she has already come a long way from the tribulations of the early 80s. (“Nelda,” by the way, means “torch.” Thus Maria Nelda can perhaps be translated as “the torch of Mary.” Naks!) She busies herself nowadays with the Block Rosary, attending Holy Mass everyday (sometimes even twice in one day, morning and afternoon), doing church and charity work to the extent that she can, taking care of her family, and doting on her grandchildren. One of my heart’s desires is to someday be able to take her to the actual grotto of Our Lady of Fatima in Portugal, where the devotion originally started. I also hope to take her to the grotto at Lourdes in France. She has already been to Medjugorje, the Holy Land, and Rome. Ours is a family of humble means; it has been nothing short of miraculous that Mom was able to visit those places. Thus I am praying real hard and counting on a few more miracles.

Whenever she is asked what her “secret” is, Mommy is always quick to reply that there is, was, and will always be only one secret, and that secret … is prayer.

The image of Our Lady of Fatima, which has been repeatedly visiting the homes in our neighborhood for the past 28 years now.



Mommy leading the prayer in front of the image of the Blessed Mother.
(It is the homeowner or current host who leads in prayer.)



The Mystical Rose Block Rosary, a close-knit neighborhood, a community of pray-ers.



Mommy is all smiles after prayer and dinner. To her left are Mark Luiz (youngest grandchild), Luz (daughter-in-law), and Kumareng Cora (Godmother to Manny and Luz). Having dessert on the stairs is Mariz, it's a full house you see.



Miguel about to carry the blessed image, to bring it to home of our neighbor who is next to play host to the Blessed Mother.



Christ the King. He's the boss in our home. :-)



Once again, a picture of Her Majesty the Queen.
Isn't she beautiful? :-)

Daddy’s Boy … Still

"Reign Over Me,” is a film about two former college roommates, now both middle aged men: Charlie Fineman (played by Adam Sandler) who is going through a severe crisis, and Alan Johnson (played by Don Cheadle) who is trying to be a supportive friend. The film revolves mostly around Charlie, but for me personally the film has more meaning because of Alan. 

Alan, for me, clarified what it truly meant to be a middle-aged man. You see, once you enter that stage of your life, you find yourself looking after your parents, your children, and your spouse, thus you are quite literally in the middle. In my case, I have found myself looking after my Mom, (as well as my Grandmother not too long ago), my nephews and nieces (particularly when their Dad, my elder brother, was working abroad), and my closest family and friends. Even in my line of work, I often find myself looking after others, because that in fact is what an accountant normally does.

Someone (a former mentor, he was in his early 40s at the time, and I was in my late 20s) also once told me that there will come a time, starting in my early 40s, that I will find myself not being able to turn to anyone else for advice and support anymore (at least not as much as I used to), because it is already my turn to be the source of advice and support, and because by then I would be “truly old enough to know right from wrong.” And when that time comes, whenever I have problems I will usually only have myself and my God to rely on, thus I will need to become stronger and more prayerful.

Last night I was feeling particularly “middle-aged,” given the above context. So many concerns, so many things to think about, at work, at school (yes, I still attend school, as a graduate student, and there are problems at school), and at home. And there’s no one anymore to turn to, just as my former mentor has foretold. Francis is strong, he is bright, and he understands. That is what people often think.

Therefore, although I usually lull myself to sleep by watching TV, last night I decided to do something else. I turned the TV off, and grabbed my Rosary, and started to pray. And as I prayed I couldn’t help but wish that my Dad was still alive, because I could really use a hug from him.

When I was small, there was one time that Dad spotted a brownish strand of hair on my head. He made a fuss over it, called the attention of the entire household, and joyfully proclaimed that it was a golden strand of hair, a sign that I was gifted. To this day, despite frequent evidences to the contrary, I am convinced that I am indeed gifted, simply because my Dad said so. 

There was also a time, I think was two or three, when Dad and I sang to each other. We sang over and over, Frank Sinatra’s “Let Me Try Again.” (Frank, was the ultimate favorite singer of my father, Francisco Sr.) Its’ no wonder that now that I am all grown up, no matter how often I goof up and fail, I keep trying again and again. It was my theme song with my Dad, you see.

All throughout grade school, high school, and college, I usually prepared for final exams by studying weeks ahead, and then on the day of the exam itself I wake up at 4am to answer a battery of practice tests that I myself previously prepared. And normally, my Mom would wake up and fix me a glass of milk. There was one time however that my Mom wasn’t feeling well, therefore she wasn’t strong enough to get up and fix me the glass of milk. It is still vividly etched in my mind, there he was at my bedroom door, a burly man's man wearing nothing but the Jockey shorts he normally slept in (most men of his generation slept that way), with a glass of milk in his hands. His gifted son was studying you see, so there had to be the glass of milk. Dad forgot to add sugar, but it was the best tasting milk ever. And as you can imagine, I can’t help but get teary-eyed as I write this.

Anyway, so I finally fell asleep last night, by praying the Rosary. Well, it wasn’t really last night, because it was past midnight. It was strictly speaking “today,” during the earliest hours of the day. 

When I woke up this morning, I realized something. June 23 was the day that my Father passed away. Today is June 23. No wonder. 

When you get a genuine visit from a departed loved one there is a feeling of peace and warmth, there’s nothing spooky about it. In fact the feeling is so tranquil that you usually realize what happened only afterwards. That has usually been my experience, just like today.

I am now older than my Dad was when he passed away. But every time I think of him, in my mind I once again become that little boy, with the golden strand of hair, singing Frank Sinatra, and having his glass of milk before dawn. And I have a feeling that it will always be that way.

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A Miracle for Sure, in the City of Jericho

My Mom and I joined a pilgrimage to the Holy Land last October 2010, and the picture posted at the very bottom of this page is a picture of me delivering the Readings during a Holy Mass that was the ninth among the eleven Holy Masses celebrated in the course of the pilgrimage. It was in a church located in the city of Jericho. Tita Marie Paz Laurin, the tour organizer, took the picture.

The pilgrimage was for fourteen days, and from day one I actually secretly hoped to be asked to read at Mass, because there is grace in doing so. However, I preferred not to volunteer.

Let me explain…

Certificate as bona fide Lector etc.

I actually started reading at Mass in 1983 (I was 16), I was one of the very first “official” Lectors at the Our Lady of the Most Holy Rosary Parish Church in Parañaque, where my family belonged.

I even served as Lector many years later in Hong Kong, since I worked there from 1989 to 1993. In other words I have been a “professional” Lector for a long time now. Pertinently, in the course of my lectoring career, one of the most important lessons I have learned is this, “If there are others who can and wish to Lector, it is better to step aside and let them. Unlike with most things in life, you should not compete for the opportunity to serve God. There is more grace in stepping aside to let others do it.”

Therefore, as I said, during the Holy Land pilgrimage I did not volunteer. But I of course secretly hoped and prayed for the chance to Lector at least once during the pilgrimage, it is after all the Holy Land for goodness’ sake!

And God heard my prayer.  He listened to and granted the desire of my heart. On the ninth day of the pilgrimage, in the city of Jericho, during the ninth Holy Mass that was celebrated, out of the blue I was finally asked to Lector and proclaim the Word of God. My Mom and I were of course overjoyed.

My Mom.

Meanwhile, my Mom, who is a piano teacher (apart from being a pharmacist), was asked to sing the Psalms during the seventh, eighth, and eleventh Holy Masses.

The Good Shepherd

Now, guess what? Inside the church where I was finally given the chance to lector, images of my patrons were all prominently present, namely: the Sacred Heart of Jesus, the Blessed Mother with the Child Jesus, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Anthony of Padua, and right in the middle of the altar - the Good Shepherd.  Indeed just a couple of days earlier my Mom and I purchased in Jerusalem a one-foot tall olive-wood statue of the Good Shepherd, which I carried throughout the rest of the pilgrimage. I even took pictures of all of the aforementioned images, and the pictures are exhibited herewith.

Also, I later realized that the church where I was finally called to lector was actually … the “Church of St.Francis of Assisi.”  My namesake is of course my foremost personal patron Saint.

What are the chances, huh? 

Yes, God is good.  And He is good, all the time.  :-)

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St. Francis of Assisi

St. Anthony of Padua

The Blessed Mother and the Child Jesus.

Yours Truly.