A Little Light on the Road

by Manilyn Tanega

Life is full of questions. So many things we cannot understand. But after seven years of working in our poor community, trying to serve God in this world, I have witnessed some mysteries of God that I could not see before. I think I was blinded by the darkness of my own situation. Often, I find myself arrested in that space between my dark past and the present now. I have come upon many lessons.

Almusalmo was started because I had the longing of a child for her father’s love inside me. That gnawing sense of loneliness. This became the bridge for this new initiative. Through it I slowly came to know why my father abandoned us and why he chose bad deeds instead of taking care of us as his family.

I frequently hear the complaints of children against their own fathers because of substance abuse. Their mothers meanwhile shed tears how badly it is affecting their whole family life. Whenever I hear those cries, I can’t help but cry with them. It always flashes back to my own hardships in my young days. Even now, while I have my own family with my own good partner. It feels as if there is a missing piece in my personality. But I finally found that piece, while I was with my father at our weekly Almusalmo gathering.

I was 19 years old when I stopped working as a house helper and mustered up courage to apply as a saleslady at a nearby shopping mall. Every morning, I would then leave our poor alley to go to work in that mall.  Often on those mornings, I would see my own father hanging out on the street corner having coffee and eating pandesal (ed.: a breakfast bun common in the Philippines). While my father and I were family, we had no relationship that would live up to that word. I could not even look at him, let alone that we could talk. We seemed to have no connection. But in truth, I felt very heavy about him, because of what he put me through. My sister and I were both carrying a wound that was very deep.

On my walk home from work, I always passed Saint Peter’s Church. I often stopped there, to light a candle and pray to God, asking for my father to change. I could only lean on that in those times. It did help me to vent my sentiments and let go of the weight in my innermost being. As my tears fell and I watched the candles’ wax dripping, I felt they were sympathizing with me.

During those dark times of my life, the little light that was shed by those small vigil candles miraculously helped me to get on. It is hard to imagine now but even while life was so difficult, I woke up in the mornings with just enough courage to carry on, even without knowing  any reason.

Last year (2024) we started Almusalmo. We went on Sunday mornings to houses where drug users and dealers where hiding. One of these houses was my father’s, where I was born. We brought coffee and Pandesal, along with a Bible and a candle. It is just a little gathering but also a place for simple worship. (Ed.:  Almusalmo is a wordplay in Tagalog, combining the words breakfast and psalms)

So, it was really my own thirst for my father’s love and presence that pushed me to start this gathering. I found it difficult to start. Many times, I had doubts if we should continue it and I was reluctant to lead it. But somehow, there was this inexplicable presence that led us on. I have no idea where it came from, and it remains a mystery to me until today. It enabled me to listen with empathy to these people who are considered sinners by the whole community and were generally a difficult burden to their families because of all their vices.

I came to understand more of the purpose of our Almusalmo a few months later, after my father was imprisoned and then seems to have remembered some of what he heard during our Almusalmo. Eventually he experienced how his surrender to the Holy One transformed him amazingly. Soon afterwards my father was surprisingly released from jail.  He is a very different man now.

Now, every time we gather and hear the people’s thanksgiving, I understand a little more about Jesus being born as our Saviour. Finally, I also find my inexplicable thirst quenched. Not only my own thirst but also that of the others who take part in this group. There is this enormous thirst for understanding, for love and for being heard.

We all thank God for the privilege to be part of this extraordinary gathering.

Understanding more about life and faith can be an effective remedy for the wounds of our hearts. Almusalmo is a way to thank God, even every weekday morning and slowly understand some reasons for our difficulties.

Listening to the burdens of others brings us into a deeper relationship with God, with one another, with our family, and with ourselves.

Psalm 119:145 -152

I call out at the top of my lungs, “God! Answer! I’ll do whatever you say.”
I called to you, “Save me so I can carry out all your instructions.”
I was up before sunrise, crying for help, hoping for a word from you.
I stayed awake all night, prayerfully pondering your promise.
In your love, listen to me;  in your justice, God, keep me alive.
As those out to get me come closer and closer,  they go farther and farther from the truth you reveal;
But you’re the closest of all to me, God, and all your judgments true.
I’ve known all along from the evidence of your words that you meant them to last forever.