Hawak Kamay

Throughout this journey I've talked a bunch about our fun trips (because they were), our nice friends (because they are), and my hilarious and delightful children (because they are indeed hilarious and delightful).  There are a few things though that I don't want to forget that are of a more serious bent. 

First, I wanted to say some last words about our branch in Makati.  Life in a branch takes a serious amount of sacrifice, especially when it is a branch full of expats and about a quarter of the group moves out every summer to take new government assignments.  It was hard for me to get used to, and I struggled sometimes with my calling, but I feel like I better understand that sometimes service in the church isn't about anything except what the Lord needs from you, and not what you might personally benefit from or prefer.  As we leave, I appreciate more than ever the devotion of the branch members to the church and to their callings.  The other thing I loved about this branch was that we had two General Authorities who attended.  Believe me, no one EVER started a talk by admitting that they procrastinated until the night previous.  Those men (Elder Nielson and Elder Ardern) were so kind and genuine, and their mere presence elevated the meetings because no one wanted to look like an idiot in front of them.  I'm really grateful for that.

Second, I had the opportunity to go with Jen to a stake in Malolos (about an hour north of Manila) for their Relief Society Birthday party a couple of Saturdays ago.  It was a local stake, meaning I didn't understand what was going on (which most of you realize is my default setting for the Philippines), but I was amazed to find that the sisterhood of Relief Society needs no translation.  It was a really great experience, and the sisters welcomed us with open arms.  There's an amazing openness in the people here that I am really going to miss.  Jen was singing some musical numbers and I was playing for her, and then we were heading back to Manila for our own Relief Society party.  A woman from each ward (there were a half dozen or so) was supposed to speak about their favorite woman from the scriptures for 3 minutes.  Jen and I, knowing that we had to be back to Manila, figured that we had plenty of time to travel back, but we were wrong.  Those half dozen three minute presentations went on for almost an hour and a half.  Another proof of our sisterhood?  No Mormon the world over has a clear understanding of the words, "THREE MINUTE TALK."

Last, today about 14 sisters from the branch Relief Society went to the local woman's prison.  We brought treats and Jen sang again.  A few words about this prison:  It was tiny, dirty, and stinky.  We had to surrender our cameras and phones and received a stamp on the wrist (that's the picture above).  The women were so excited to see us.  There was a chart on the wall showing the various offenses of the women: 1 murderer, a few assaults, a few thieves, and the vast majority were some unnamed offense: it was a code like "PC 351" or something, which basically means, "No good reason."  Probably 70 of the 90 prisoners have no idea why they are there, have never had a trial, and will be there indefinitely or until their desperately poor families can scrounge up a big enough bribe.  Yet, they smiled and engaged with us, and I (for the millionth time) thought, "Could I be like them if our positions were reversed?"  We sang songs for them, shared our treats, and the prisoners did a dance for us.  The women are provided nothing in the prison except for rice and a bed, and anything else they need must come from their families or donations like ours.  They also make beaded purses and key chains that they can sell for a little money.  I bought two little purses for Kate and Kiki which totaled 240 pesos- about 6 dollars.  All I had was a 500 peso note, which I gave the woman and told her to keep the difference.  She was so surprised and she cried and we hugged and then I cried.  My heart dies inside that something so little to me (materially) makes such a difference to another human being.  When was the last time in my life that $6 made any difference to me whatsoever, yet for this woman it was the difference between eating and not eating, or having soap or not.  I won't forget that just because an action seems small to me doesn't mean that it doesn't matter or isn't worth doing. 

Jen sang a few songs at the prison also: Amazing Grace, and she and I sang A Child's Prayer, and she sang a Filipino song called Hawak Kamay.  Here's the English translation:

With hands held
Sometimes you'll feel
The problems are so heavy
Sometimes you'll have hard time
And say you can't go on
Just look up at the sky
There might be something to hold on to
Or you can call me
And you'll know anytime
With hands held
I won't leave you in your journey
In this world without guarantees
With hands held
I won't let you go in you your journey
In the world of nothingness
Sometimes you'll feel
The world is crumbling under your feet
And the tide of problems
Are taking you away
Just look up at the sky
There might be something to hold on to
Or you can call me
And you'll know anytime
With hands held
I won't leave you in your journey
In this world without guarantees
With hands held
I won't let you go in your journey
In the world of nothingness
Do not say you are alone
Always think there's someone with you
I am here, I am here
With hands held
I won't leave you in your journey
In this world without guarantees
With hands held
I won't let you go in you your journey
In the world of nothingness
In the world of nothingness
With hands held
With hands held
With hands held
In the world of nothingness   

I'm really grateful that at the time Jen was singing this at the prison I had no idea what she was saying because otherwise I would have cried my eyes out.   When we left we hugged the women and they wanted to make very sure that we were coming back.  I'm grateful I got to have an experience like this one my last week here- I've posted before about the personal longing I have felt to know that something big connects the human race, and while I don't specifically know what exactly that "something big" is, I have been blessed to feel the connectedness nevertheless. Whether I've been in the branch, in the provinces, or in the prison, what I have felt above all else is, "We are more alike than we are different."