Sunday, January 18, 2015

Bold Prayer: My Papal Encounter



“It was then… that Joshua prayed to the LORD, and said in the presence of Israel: Sun, stand still at Gibeon, Moon, in the valley of Aijalon! The sun stood still, the moon stayed…” – Joshua 10:12-13

To see the pope up close, to be blessed by him and kiss the ring on his finger. That was my bold prayer, my dream, uttered in the last week before Pope Francis arrived. But I didn’t have the slightest clue how I can accomplish that.

It was like asking the sun and moon to stand still because there was a wide, unbridgeable chasm that stood between my reality and my dream. Actually that seems to be true for most of my dreams: reality, chasm, dream. With some realities, there are already pieces of a bridge forming but not yet long enough to span the chasm and reach my dreams. So I thought this papal encounter prayer would also get “No” or “Wait” stamped on it.

As my friends and I talked about his coming visit, we discussed possibilities of where to position ourselves. One friend even thought of parking her container van truck along the route so she can clamber on top to get a vantage view. Some of us, daunted by the expected massive crowd, the traffic and the long walk, considered just watching him on television.

Then on January 9, I received a text message from Dee, my Evangelism Pillar head. The Feast Alabang was allocated tickets for seats in the Mall of Asia open parking area where the pope will pass on January 16 for his “Encounter with Families”. Her text further said: “Entry to the venue starts at 4:00 a.m. but the pope is set to arrive at 5:00 p.m. We’ve been allocated a limited number of tickets so please advise if you’re interested and willing to wait. Invitation is extended to ministry and team heads for now.”


My first reaction was, “Wow, what a privilege! Numbered seats – no waiting along the streets and risk being trampled by the crowd!” Then my next reaction was. “Wow again, that’s a 13 hour wait!”

I began to plan the long wait:
  1. Bring food enough for breakfast, lunch, 2 snacks and even dinner.
  2. Bring my laptab so I can transcribe my interviews.
  3. Bring umbrella to keep from getting sunburned or rained on.
  4. Bring small pillow so I can nap in between.
Then I got the email with the guidelines. No food and drinks allowed. No big backpacks. No umbrellas. Roads will close at 6:00 a.m. so parking will be far from the venue. I began to have second thoughts especially about the long walk.

Then my son asked, “So, you’re also going to wear diapers?” I said, “Diapers? Why will I wear diapers?” He told me that the cops guarding the route were advised to wear them because they can’t break rank. Portalets might be limited, so that would be a good idea to follow.

That was the final straw. My tiny bladder forces me to use the rest room quite often. So often that, on trips, friends threaten to put a catheter on me. Thus, I offered my ticket and the remaining slots to other Media members. I texted Dee: “Pass on the papal visit. The spirit is willing but the bladder is weak. I’ll see him in Rome. I believe in miracles. J

It was also around that time I learned my cousin, Belle, was given the great blessing of a ticket to the MOA Arena – inside. Imagine me turning emerald green with envy! Hers wasn’t even a fervent prayer, just a wish expressed to a client who happened to have tickets. It was a struggle for me to stop throwing a tantrum at the feet of my heavenly Father. That was my bold prayer!

Bratty me was comforted by the thought maybe God’s better plan was for me to see the pope in Rome. My heart simmered down as I accepted it’s not yet time for my prayer to be answered.

Then my Caring Group mates urged me to come with them. There was an extra ticket for me.  ETD was at 8:30 so the wait would not be so long. I figured I can battle my three other concerns – the traffic, the long walk and the rest room – by patience and prayer, by wearing rubber shoes and by dehydrating myself.

I got my battle gear ready the night before but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I’d go. If I changed my mind, I planned to give my ticket to a friend who told me she really wanted to go. That was the second ticket I’d be giving away.

I was up bright and early the next morning hurriedly preparing breakfast and lunch for my family, when Belle called. She wasn’t feeling well and her ticket benefactor had the flu. I said, “Don’t tell me you’re not going! This is too great an opportunity to miss!” Her daughter had convinced her to go but now she had an extra ticket. Would I like to come with her?

I almost did cartwheels of joy and promptly ran to my room to change my gear. I chucked the rubber shoes, the jacket and the raincoat and changed into something more appropriate for sitting at the FIFTH ROW OF THE LOWER BOX INSIDE the Arena.



My bold prayer to see the pope in close quarters was not just answered but my other concerns as well. When we left around 10:30 a.m., there were hardly any cars on the road so we got there in under 30 minutes. The car was allowed in as far as the Arena where Belle’s husband dropped us off. And Glory Be! I didn’t have to use any stinky portalet but a clean restroom with toilet paper and hand soap. Plus, we didn’t go hungry because food sellers were going around. And I got to work while waiting for the pope.



When the pope arrived, I was able to take his picture. Although the pictures I took with my cellphone were not that clear (next bold prayer: nice camera with zoom lens), I still felt blessed to be able to take a close shot.



The feeling of being there and seeing him was indescribable. And he didn’t just whiz by on a motorcade. I heard him speak, too, in his gentle and loving way. I felt I was being embraced by God. So this is what it feels like when God stops the sun and the moon for you. And all I had to do was say a bold prayer.



My bold prayer has not been completely answered, only one-third. Being blessed by him and kissing the ring on his finger is still pending. So Rome, here I come. I continue to dream because as Pope Francis said in his message to families, “It is important to dream…”


Even if I can’t see any way for this dream and my other bold prayers to be answered, my papal encounter will always remind me that God is working around the impossibilities.