Stories: A Life Altering Experience
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| Oh, mission life in the Philippines Tacloban area. That is really a huge difference from life here. I had a difficult time adjusting when I got home.
The last area I served in was Babatngon, Leyte. We worked in a Barangay, about a seven piso-ride to the nearest branch. We had a large, investigating family of twenty-some individuals who came to church on a weekly basis, for nearly a month in a row.
What is so sad and amazing about this is because of their difficult financial situation, they spent all week to save the few pisos for fare. A few times they came up short and borrowed from their friends to make the fourteen pisos round trip. They were so amazingly humble. Many times when we visited them, they insisted we eat what little food they had. We ate together; they gave us their best su-ra (pronounced like the word sore plus a hard-sounding ra afterwards): small, fried fish as they ate cooked, unripe bananas with their rice. They gave us the best seats of the house, the table, and they ate, standing or crouching somewhere where they could find room. One time we brought some food with us to eat lunch. My su-ra this time was canned tuna fish. I looked forward to eating that with my rice; but as I ate, I couldn't finish. Their small and very skinny children looked at it hungrily. I offered it to them. The mother was resistant at first, but eventually allowed her children to eat my leftovers. After the meal was finished, the parents asked for the can. They wanted to hang it up by their kitchen to impress their neighbors of the nice, luxurious, meal eaten in their home.
What really touches me of it all is how incredibly receptive these people were. (They were a total of four families, counting individual husband, wife, and children units.) I personally feel they were the least deserving families of the difficulties of their situations.
A few weeks later, I came home. I prepared to eat dinner and was asked to give the opening prayer. As I prayed, I felt impressed to ask for a special blessing for the less fortunate families of the world. My emotions were high, and I barely finished the prayer. After we said Amen, Proud Father offered me the first helping of the seven-pound ham he had personally cooked for his return-missionary son.
I quietly excused myself from the table, went to their room, and bawled my eyes out. Why am I so blessed in comparison with many others in the world? was the question that haunted my thoughts. What really hurt is how I had taken it for granted. There were many times when the Filipinos asked me for things and I refused to give. Why? Not necessarily because I needed the item they were asking for, but because I was selfish - just inherently selfish. I made a vow that night to be more generous with my belongings.
My father came in and had a very good chat with me. He stated that if money could solve the world's problems, they would have been solved a long time ago. He talked of some Native Americans he worked with on the reservation in New Mexico who were in similar predicaments as these Filipino investigators. He shared that they had more than they needed offered to them, but they still remained in poverty. The principle he shared was freedom from poverty comes from education. It comes through learning self-control, self-reliance and budgeting within ones means. As the saying goes: give a man a fish and he eats for a day, but teach a man to fish and he eats for a lifetime is very true.
I have learned many things from my mission. One is the secret to wealth and success doesnt come from having large amounts of money, but from living within ones means. Another is how truly blessed I and America are. I will never take that for granted again. |
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