‘God has not forgotten you’

The heavy rain was quite expected. The weatherman already said that September would be marked by late afternoon showers or thunderstorms. Every afternoon was like the last one. Excessively hot, turning excessively wet.

Thankfully, they had a Pajero that would, if needed, swim through flash floods. The aircon worked well so the windows didn’t mist up. It gave the passengers specially the 9-year-old Filipina American Danielle Camcam an almost perfect view of an imperfect life.

There on the street right in front of her, stood a Sampaguita girl not much different in age with clothes so wet it was hard to tell if they were torn or tattered. Her hair stretched out by the weight of water soaking to her scalp.

She was shivering from the cold and tried to fight it off by shaking her arms and legs as if the constant motion would convince the chill to leave her alone.

In her imperfect world she had no climate control, no shelter on wheels, no waterproof jackets. Life was quite simple because in her imperfect world she didn’t have much of a choice.

Her choices were to sell Sampaguita, make money, and have a meal. Or she could make the wrong choice and not sell Sampaguita, come home without any money, without any food, and on a bad day get beaten.

And in that imperfect scene, the folks in the Pajero couldn’t do much. Rain has a way stopping us from rolling down our windows to give food, coins, or maybe an umbrella.

And even if they wanted to, the rest of us in the traffic would certainly be so impatient to get home or to the office that thought or acts of kindness be farthest from our minds.

Anyone who gives to the poor in the pouring rain must be a bleeding heart or some "Saint-Wanna-be".

So they drove on. The young mother simply suggested to Danielle to say a prayer for the Sampaguita girl in the rain. But Dani’s heart is soft, it is kind, it is gentle.

She gathers food, some clothes, and a jacket. She asks her mom if she could go back to the little girl with her Yaya Lisa to give all the stuff to her.

One does not kill the spirit of kindness in a child. Of course her Mom would say yes.

Soon enough they found her and Christmas came early to the imperfect world of the shivering Sampaguita girl. First the food then the clothes, then the jacket.

But Dani had something more important to give to the Sampaguita girl. Tugging at her Yaya Lisa, almost in a whisper, Dani said.

"Please tell her GOD hasn’t forgotten her."

* * *

The Central Bank launched a campaign asking all Filipinos to liberate our coins from piggy banks, drawers, cups and cans.

And being a patriotic bunch, what better way to hit 2 birds with one stone than by leaving all those unwanted Barya in our car so we can give it to poor folks on the streets.

This we did regularly as a way of introducing our daughter to the concept of charity and giving alms to the poor. Things worked out as she began to see people knocking on our car window for alms or sell flowers.

We would explain the whys and wherefores of poverty, of lack and of God’s blessings. Soon enough she took joy in giving the coins herself and before we knew it we were talking about praying for those poor people. It was for the most part simply a parenting task of teaching charity.

But one day my daughter was the one who taught us the lesson.

At a familiar intersection, we stopped for the light, and when a little girl came to the window, I automatically reached out for a coin and gave it to the girl and drove on.

From the back seat my daughter asked in curious earnest.

"Papa, how come you gave her one coin? Why didn’t you just give her all the coins?

Yes, why do we only give one coin? Is our charity limited to the coins we can spare? Is there a rule that says we have to save some for others? My daughter broke all those rules that morning, but it was I who learned the lesson.

* * *

When you’ve been on TV long enough, you become part of people’s lives, part of their lifestyles, their schedule and you literally become part of the furniture.

And because of this it’s inevitable that people want to see the real you, get to talk, say hello. Maybe even get a photo or an autograph. Sometimes they just want to see if you’re for real.

And after awhile you know whom in the audience or viewers are for real. But once in awhile comes a surprise.

I remember coming out of Sunday service at Robinsons Galleria one time and all I could think of was making a major decision on what and where to eat at the food court.

Yes I love those places. Fast, cheap, and easy. If you don’t like what you got, go back for something else!

On that particular Sunday lunch I was just getting my momentum to begin the selection when a cheerfully polite woman greeted me and reluctantly spoke of how her Mom enjoyed watching Straight Talk and how happy she would be to meet me in person.

She asked if I would mind staying where I was while she got her mom. Given my relationship with my Mom, it didn’t seem right that someone’s Mother would be made to walk over to meet "me".

I wouldn’t have any of it and simply followed the woman to a table where I found her equally cheerful and kind Mom sitting in a wheel chair. After meeting her and short conversation I walked away glad.

Glad that I chose to go to the woman’s Mom because good manners and respect dictate that we approach and present ourselves to those older. Glad that I walked over to someone who no longer had the privilege.