It’s about time

If you have ever been asked what your biggest regret in life is, I wonder if you would have also started it with these words: “If only.” Having had the luxury to clean up before the year ends, I came across an old diary which chronicled a to-do list that looked more like New Year’s resolutions rather than a rough draft of a life plan. Eagerly scanning the pages to mainly indulge in some form of reminiscing, there was a sense of accomplishment to note that some short- and long-term goals have been realized in the last nine years. But after that initial rush of elation, what lingered were twinges of regret, seeing some numbers to have remained unchecked, all because I failed to give people who were constants in my life what mattered most—the gift of time.

If only. What irreplaceable harm would have been caused by setting aside a few hours, or maybe just even a few minutes, to catch up? Painful as it is to remember, by the time I consciously put on the brakes, they were too ill to enjoy the company of an unexpected visit, and I had lost the perfect opportunity to tell them just how much it meant to have them around. Resolution No. 1: Avoid having those regrets. You can never be too busy and can make time if you choose to.

Friday night. The concert was a fundraising project for Tulay ng Kabataan, a foundation dedicated to serving the poorest children in Metro Manila since 1998, and currently under the leadership of Fr. Matthieu Dauchez. The program started off with the street children singing about the importance of family. Their voices had that timbre afforded by youth and were so pleasant to hear, but their faces bore indelible traces of what life must have been like out in the streets and unwanted. Though there seemed to be a mismatch, what stuck with me more was the quiet dignity they exuded. One cannot even begin to imagine what stories they had to tell, especially if one has never experienced lack and been cocooned in the warm embrace of unconditional love.

“Sundan ang Bituin.” How apt the title was. Was it more for the child or for the donors, who physically came to show support despite the horrendous traffic brought on by the holiday rush? Fortunate to have met and had a brief chat with one of the organizers, I had my answer. What came off from that conversation was that being a part of Tulay was a realization of what her mission was. It was a privilege to be in that particular circle of selfless strangers, and it was quite a sizeable crowd! It was another one of those moments wherein getting to witness such an outpouring of kindness helps to visibly restore your faith in the goodness of man and reaffirms how God works through you if you Let Him. More than the monetary pledges, their presence was proof that people still cared to make time despite their busy schedules to simply let these children know that not only are they worthy of attention, but more importantly, there was enough love to be spread around.

“We still chose to show up for our patients.” These words came from the speech delivered by the representative of the 2022 graduating class of our institution’s pediatric residency training program. She recounted the struggles that they had, having been hit by a pandemic midway through training. As frontliners, there were numerous moments wherein they questioned themselves and their efforts, and if it was all worth it. Reporting for duty was their way of showing the choice they made on a daily basis for the lives of the patients, and their families heavily depended on them.

These experiences are testaments to the gift of time. A form of service or sacrifice, whether donor or recipient, one is equally blessed.

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