“ Bend the stubborn heart and will… Melt the frozen, warm the chill; Guide the steps that go astray” — Veni Sancte Spiritus
DAMARIS and her husband, Tom, prayed the rosary together everyday at the same early evening hour after dinner.
It wasn’t always their routine but when their son, Henry, was deployed overseas during the war on terror in the Middle East as a young marine on the front lines, they found that prayers brought an unbelievable measure of comfort, protection and peace.
And so, prayer time became a daily date with God the couple kept as regular as breathing itself. On the upside, the daily prayer kept the couple close and in synch with the seasons. Prayer was always a lifeline for them, a direct line to God. Damaris’ love for her husband, her son and his wife and everyone in her family grew beyond measure.
Damaris was a name plucked by her mother from the Bible for her when she was born. She was the sixth of seven sisters and each one of them had biblical names. Growing up, she didn’t like her name at first but then when she realized that Damaris was one of the courageous, early women followers of Christ when it wasn’t safe nor expedient to be one, she grew to love the name her mother gave her and her faith blossomed.
Though tiny in physical stature, Damaris was larger than life. She was a pint-sized battle axe. When she puts her mind to anything, she got it done— like a mini-General Patton without the bluster and the cussing.
She placed herself last in most things. Thoughtful, kind and considerate, she made it her life’s work to share the gifts she and her husband were blessed with to as many people around their orbit. She took none of the credit. Rarely did a cuss word slipped out of her lips, except perhaps when she stubs her toes or grazes her knuckles while scrubbing some imagined grime on her already immaculate home.
Generally, she was a happy camper as she saw the magic and miracle of very simple days. But these days, a nagging feeling of unease gnawed at her. She noticed that her son has been showing signs of straying from the faith. It was gradual but the slide was certain. No longer did he go to mass. Faith wasn’t so important at all to Henry these days. He seems to be toying with darkness.
Damaris sought to raise him right in the eyes of God. Somehow during his teen years, he had friends who influenced him about his life’s choices and the unwanted change happened. And there was nothing they could do about it. His mind and his ears were closed off to any talk about the matter. Hubris had taken over and Henry’s heart hardened. Henry felt he is now a grown man and surely he could do what he wanted.
Sometimes, her tears would fall at the helplessness of it all. The old tried and tested pattern of showing the young ones the important things of life didn’t hold true anymore against the unrelenting deluge of liberal, popular, devil-may-care, disposable culture that washed over his son and many in his generation. Somehow the things that Damaris thought truly mattered, like love, faith, respect, kindness, fidelity and hope didn’t matter any more.
And so over the years, her son who used to worship the ground she walked on when he was a kid became cold and distant like a stranger. On occasion, he talked with his father. He would call when he needed them of course for some reason or other. And each time, she responded with kindness and quiet generosity.
Through it all Damaris held fast. She showed quiet acceptance. “Surely, there is more that I can do than wallow in my own heartache,” she thought.
She doubled down on her prayers — not just prayers she learned by rote as a child in the parochial school she attended, but real, back and forth conversations with God whom she felt was so near she could hear him breathe. She was a devout Marian as well, believing that as the Mother of God, Mama Mary understood her pain and interceded on her behalf.
There seemed to be a groundswell within her for the steady flow of goodness that emanated from her small life on a daily basis. She discovered ways to make her life, that of her husband and those around her meaningful and dynamic. Gratitude washed over her. Though dark clouds seemed to hover in the horizon, her days were filled with sunshine and hope.
In the small garden that she and her husband, Tom, tended at the back of their house, there was a peach tree that didn’t seem to grow right. It never bore fruit and year after year, they waited. If anything, Damaris thought, it provided a little shade for the birds to shelter in. She hung a cute birdhouse in one of the branches and enjoyed hours of solitude sitting under its shade.
Through the dance of the seasons of blistering heat and dryness and of glorious rains and rainbows that followed, Damaris and Tom continued to nurture the little peach tree. They watered it, pruned it and fertilized it, tweaking their methods by looking it up on the internet and asking the gardeners at the local nursery. Still nothing. . .
Then one ordinary day, she saw blooms on the tree, hundreds of them, and before long —lo and behold— there grew a wild abundance of plump, fuzzy sweet peaches they gleefully harvested and gladly shared with friends and neighbors.
The garden burst to life together with the peach tree.
One summer day while sipping cold lemonade under the shade of the peach tree, her cellphone rang. It was her son. “Hi Henry, what’s up, son?” she greeted him warmly and casually adapting to his usual lingo. She expected him to ask for his dad as he always did when he called. But this time he didn’t. He seemed light-hearted as he regaled her of the goings-on in his now married life in the military. Damaris listened intently. Somehow Henry sounded different.
Then, after a long pause and without preamble, Henry said, his voice unsteady and his speech halting, “Mom, if I haven’t told you lately, I love you. I love you and Dad so much. I realize I haven’t been much of a son for so long but there’s still time right?
I’ve seen so much and I know now that there is no one like you and Dad in all the world. I took you and Dad for granted. Please forgive me, Mom. I know I should do this in person but I am afraid that I might lose the courage. Or worse, I may not have time.”
Damaris froze in stunned silence. “Mom, are you still there? Henry asked. She couldn’t speak for she was in tears and when she did, her voice cracked with deep emotion. “Henry, I love you son, more than you’ll ever know.”
She knew it took a lot of courage for Henry to do what he just did. Damaris knew too, without a doubt, that God has a direct hand in this. Her heart overflowed with gratitude for the miracle that just happened.
Then Henry said with laughter in his voice, “I’ve got some great news for you and Dad. Drumroll please…. You’ll be grandparents in about eight months.”
Then he added, “Mom, we’d like to raise the baby the way you and Dad raised me. Please pray for us.”
Damaris smiled sniffling and scrounging in her pocket for a tissue to wipe her tears, “Always, son, always……
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Nota Bene: Monette Adeva Maglaya is SVP of Asian Journal Publications, Inc. To send comments, e-mail [email protected]
