This early morning, Francis, Avea and I drove high into the mountains overlooking our town to attend a wake.
In Philippine culture, the body of the deceased is laid out in their home for up to one or two weeks as family and friends stay awake 24 hours a day and sit together in community to eat, talk, fellowship. Grieving is communal, and not rushed.
In Mangyan culture this is typically not done, as they have their own customs. They typically bury the body with a day or so, high in the mountains, in their own tribal burial grounds.
Chief Elias was a person of high importance in the community, so a catholic priest came to the home and his wake was conducted in the usual Tagalog manner.
Kuya Elias was the Iraya Mangyan chief, and he was in authority over all Iraya Mangyans in our province of Oriental Mindoro.
A few days ago, he called Francis to tell him he was in the ambulance on the way to Calapan city as he was having symptoms of a stroke, but felt ok.
He wanted to see Francis, but Francis was on his way to leave the island for another engagement.
France talked with Him and said he’d see him soon.
He was taken to the provincial hospital, and put in the Mangyan Ward—a separate building for indigenous people. He was not cared for well, but instead neglected, as is the case far too often.
He died soon after.
Our hearts are grieving with the family, and also wrestling with anger and frustration at the injustice that is so deeply rooted and ongoing. It is not new- we feel it so often when we see our beloved friends treated with disdain, neglect, and dishonor.
Please pray with and for us as we seek wisdom and discernment in fighting for the rights of our indigenous friends and help to bring change to the medical systems here.
For many years we have fought for our Mangyan friends and advocated when they need hospital care. We've come alongside hospital leadership and staff to encourage a higher level of concern, and care for the indigenous people.
Our Tribal friends trust us and know we care for them, but are more than hesitant to go to the hospital when it is necessary, because they know there is a high likelihood that they will never come back from the hospital.
This is unacceptable.
The Mangyans have been historically oppressed and treated unjustly and we are responsible to Jesus for how we love and fight for their cause.
Today we cried with the family, prayed for them, sat with them in their grief.
We are so honored to be brothers and sisters with these incredible people, and journey with them in their joys as well as their pain.
Our dear friend Kuya Rodrigo is now the acting Iraya chief.
Francis prayed blessing over Him as this mantle of authority is passed to him; that he would walk in wisdom and courage, and come to know the love of Jesus for Himself.
His eyes filled with tears and he began to talk about the day our lives intersected with his eleven years ago….
Eleven years ago, Rodrigo’s wife suddenly died of heart failure in their village and she was brought to our clinic, where our team performed CPR for over an hour, but she was gone.
We had never met, but after her death we heard that she had delivered preterm twins in their village two weeks before. He told us that one baby had died at birth, and one was just barely still alive. The baby boy remained nameless as they waited for him to die.
They had five more children at home, and had already lost two children.
I asked if he could bring the baby to us.
Rodrigo came and placed a tiny, unmoving bundle- wrapped in a dirty t-shirt, in my arms.
I moved the cloth and looked at the tiniest baby I’d ever seen. He was limp, skin stretched and wrinkled over his little bones like an old man. His eyes stared, his every breath labored and gasping.
I put him to my breast and he tried to drink but didn’t have the strength. Milk dribbled from the side of his mouth as he stared into my face with tired eyes.
I cried as I cradled his head. I couldn't look away from his gaze.
“Samuel. We’ll name you Samuel Asher.” I whispered.
“God has heard your cries… He loves you so much.”
Kuya Rodrigo touched his son gently. Sorrow creased his face, and shadowed his eyes. Grief I could not begin to understand.
“If he lives, can your family keep him? I can’t care for one more," he whispered in Tagalog.
We prayed so hard that Samuel would live. We took him to the provincial hospital where he was intubated and treated for pneumonia. We’d visit him often to sing and pray over him, I’d breastfeed him and tell him how loved he was.
After two weeks, as he began to grow stronger, a hospital worker intubated him incorrectly and punctured his stomach. And baby Samuel died.
Jesus taught me so much through that tiny boy. His life was and is so valuable- more than many sparrows. He had purpose during his brief life here, and His purpose continues to stretch and reach into eternity as He runs with Jesus.
Each of our lives is a breath, a vapor here on earth- some shorter than others, but our impact can reach into heaven.
We had the enormous honor of holding him momentarily, of giving him a name and praying blessing over him. I had the honor of loving him.
Our lives intersected and I was changed.
God is so faithful, so good, so kind.
Kuya Rodrigo has remarried and had more children. His smile stretches wide with joy when we see him.
We have a bond that makes us kin.
We rejoice with him even in the middle of grief, as we know that death gives way to new life.
We pray that he will lead his people with righteousness and integrity, and come to experience the saving grace of Jesus.
Please pray for him as he leads.
We're grateful for each one of you, and thank you for your love and prayers.
Blessings, Grace and Peace
In Philippine culture, the body of the deceased is laid out in their home for up to one or two weeks as family and friends stay awake 24 hours a day and sit together in community to eat, talk, fellowship. Grieving is communal, and not rushed.
In Mangyan culture this is typically not done, as they have their own customs. They typically bury the body with a day or so, high in the mountains, in their own tribal burial grounds.
Chief Elias was a person of high importance in the community, so a catholic priest came to the home and his wake was conducted in the usual Tagalog manner.
Kuya Elias was the Iraya Mangyan chief, and he was in authority over all Iraya Mangyans in our province of Oriental Mindoro.
A few days ago, he called Francis to tell him he was in the ambulance on the way to Calapan city as he was having symptoms of a stroke, but felt ok.
He wanted to see Francis, but Francis was on his way to leave the island for another engagement.
France talked with Him and said he’d see him soon.
He was taken to the provincial hospital, and put in the Mangyan Ward—a separate building for indigenous people. He was not cared for well, but instead neglected, as is the case far too often.
He died soon after.
Our hearts are grieving with the family, and also wrestling with anger and frustration at the injustice that is so deeply rooted and ongoing. It is not new- we feel it so often when we see our beloved friends treated with disdain, neglect, and dishonor.
Please pray with and for us as we seek wisdom and discernment in fighting for the rights of our indigenous friends and help to bring change to the medical systems here.
For many years we have fought for our Mangyan friends and advocated when they need hospital care. We've come alongside hospital leadership and staff to encourage a higher level of concern, and care for the indigenous people.
Our Tribal friends trust us and know we care for them, but are more than hesitant to go to the hospital when it is necessary, because they know there is a high likelihood that they will never come back from the hospital.
This is unacceptable.
The Mangyans have been historically oppressed and treated unjustly and we are responsible to Jesus for how we love and fight for their cause.
Today we cried with the family, prayed for them, sat with them in their grief.
We are so honored to be brothers and sisters with these incredible people, and journey with them in their joys as well as their pain.
Our dear friend Kuya Rodrigo is now the acting Iraya chief.
Francis prayed blessing over Him as this mantle of authority is passed to him; that he would walk in wisdom and courage, and come to know the love of Jesus for Himself.
His eyes filled with tears and he began to talk about the day our lives intersected with his eleven years ago….
Eleven years ago, Rodrigo’s wife suddenly died of heart failure in their village and she was brought to our clinic, where our team performed CPR for over an hour, but she was gone.
We had never met, but after her death we heard that she had delivered preterm twins in their village two weeks before. He told us that one baby had died at birth, and one was just barely still alive. The baby boy remained nameless as they waited for him to die.
They had five more children at home, and had already lost two children.
I asked if he could bring the baby to us.
Rodrigo came and placed a tiny, unmoving bundle- wrapped in a dirty t-shirt, in my arms.
I moved the cloth and looked at the tiniest baby I’d ever seen. He was limp, skin stretched and wrinkled over his little bones like an old man. His eyes stared, his every breath labored and gasping.
I put him to my breast and he tried to drink but didn’t have the strength. Milk dribbled from the side of his mouth as he stared into my face with tired eyes.
I cried as I cradled his head. I couldn't look away from his gaze.
“Samuel. We’ll name you Samuel Asher.” I whispered.
“God has heard your cries… He loves you so much.”
Kuya Rodrigo touched his son gently. Sorrow creased his face, and shadowed his eyes. Grief I could not begin to understand.
“If he lives, can your family keep him? I can’t care for one more," he whispered in Tagalog.
We prayed so hard that Samuel would live. We took him to the provincial hospital where he was intubated and treated for pneumonia. We’d visit him often to sing and pray over him, I’d breastfeed him and tell him how loved he was.
After two weeks, as he began to grow stronger, a hospital worker intubated him incorrectly and punctured his stomach. And baby Samuel died.
Jesus taught me so much through that tiny boy. His life was and is so valuable- more than many sparrows. He had purpose during his brief life here, and His purpose continues to stretch and reach into eternity as He runs with Jesus.
Each of our lives is a breath, a vapor here on earth- some shorter than others, but our impact can reach into heaven.
We had the enormous honor of holding him momentarily, of giving him a name and praying blessing over him. I had the honor of loving him.
Our lives intersected and I was changed.
God is so faithful, so good, so kind.
Kuya Rodrigo has remarried and had more children. His smile stretches wide with joy when we see him.
We have a bond that makes us kin.
We rejoice with him even in the middle of grief, as we know that death gives way to new life.
We pray that he will lead his people with righteousness and integrity, and come to experience the saving grace of Jesus.
Please pray for him as he leads.
We're grateful for each one of you, and thank you for your love and prayers.
Blessings, Grace and Peace
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