Dreams from my alma mater

On Black Saturday, I bumped into Sister Fe Emanuel, r.a., of the Assumption Convent in Antipolo, her white and purple habit standing out even amongst the crowd at Rustan’s Makati (Sister Fe must have been buying a Mass card). She looked exactly as she did when I was in high school and she was a young nun. On Easter Sunday, I bumped into Sister Fidelis Estrada r.a. at True Value in Alabang. She was buying electrical stuff for Assumption Iloilo, where she is now based. Like Sister Fe, Sister Fidelis hasn’t changed much although I could see that she had wisps of gray hair under her veil.

She put one soft hand on each of my cheeks, looked deeply into my eyes and told me, “You look better without makeup.” She had seen a photo of me in a magazine where I was all made up and for one moment there, she was our principal all over again and I felt chastised. Love of simplicity, Joanne Rae — I could almost hear her tell me.

In my email, I got an Easter gift from my dear schoolmate Marlu Villanueva Balmaceda, a stirring essay about our Assumption legacy. When I got back to office after Holy Week, one of the first things that caught my attention was an envelope with photos and a short writeup about the new Assumption museum at the San Lorenzo Village campus, which houses memorabilia of the past 117 years.

Now tell me. Am I or am I not being tweaked by my alma matter for a purpose higher than myself?

I had just finished reading President Barack Obama’s first book, Dreams From My Father, and in a way, I see in Assumption what Obama saw in his black roots: a legacy that defines what I am today, a legacy that follows me wherever I go.

* * *

I was not meant to be an Assumption girl, but I was destined to be one. I was already enrolled in another Catholic girls school in Manila but my dad, then a salesman, was posted in Iloilo City. My mom Sonia was advised by her newfound friends to send me to the Assumption Convent in Iloilo, and from then on, Assumption was like the cloth (red plaid to be sure) that my values were cut out from. When I was in fourth grade, we relocated to Manila.

My Assumption education is my inheritance from my parents, and a gift from God. I followed it to four campuses in four cities, when it would have been much easier to transfer to a school with a permanent address. But it was not just the status that an Assumption diploma bestowed on me or the diction and the Assumption handwriting, that made it all worthwhile. It was the sense of empowerment it gave — that armed with faith, education and a desire to make a difference, you could transform your own little world — or the big world beyond.

When my boat is in the high seas and I need a line to a much bigger ship to keep me steady and tow me to shore, I will not think twice about tossing my line to the Assumption’s deck.

I can close my eyes and be centered by memories of the quiet inside Assumption’s chapels, a silence that fortified and nourished and refreshed like a megadose of Vitamin C when you feel like you’re coming down with the flu.

Even now, I know I can lean on a memory, a former classmate, a teacher, a nun, to guide me.

Even if the nun tells me, as I navigate mid-life, to go easy on the makeup.

* * *

Here are excerpts from Marlu’s essay. If I cannot conceal my admiration for Marlu, let me explain. She was editor of the high school paper and it was her big shoes that I tried to fill when I became editor after she graduated. It was also Marlu who introduced me when we were in college to Isaac Belmonte, now editor-in-chief of the STAR, and his late mother Betty Go-Belmonte, setting me off on a path that I still tread with pride and fulfillment.

Our school chapel had always been my refuge and solace. The location itself was insignificant. I felt the same way about the old Herran chapel in grade school; the chapel in San Lorenzo when we were in high school; and even the Antipolo chapel, which I saw for the first time just five years ago. It must be the mere fact that it is in our school. It could be the way the nuns took care of it. It could be their flower arrangements, their simple furniture or their lilting voices when they sang hymns of joy. It could have been because it was the only place in school where no one can bother you and you can just be yourself with your thoughts.

The chapel is always the starting point for Old Girls’ Day — a term that now sounds politically incorrect to refer to our alumni homecoming. On this day — which always falls on Mission Sunday — alumnae return to the school grounds wearing our uniform. Hardly anyone, obviously, wears her original set of plaids. In most likelihood it had been ordered from the school seamstress for the occasion. Donning the uniform does not only symbolize our return to our roots; it becomes an equalizer. It makes us all look the same.

There was nothing extraordinary about this particular Mission Sunday mass. I have, in my lifetime, attended hundreds of similar masses. But toward the end of the celebration, I experienced a moment that completely transformed that morning mass.

Just before the final blessing, the commentator announced that the congregation was to sing Assumpta Est Maria. I like to think of this as our Latin school song although it is not, in any way, a translation of our real school song. Every true-blooded Assumptionist can sing Assumpta Est Maria by heart and in the voice she originally learned (it is typically sung in three voices). Singing Assumpta Est Maria always uplifts me.

When we all began singing, I noticed how some of the nuns who were seated in front of me automatically glanced sideward toward the glass mosaic of Our Lady. It was clearly a gesture of deference. But what really defined the moment was the reaction of Sister Pilar, the nun seated next to me.

Sister Pilar is one of the older nuns in the community and the years may have slowed her down physically but she remains very sharp and focused. Side by side we sang our Latin homage to the Blessed Mother and when it ended she looked up at Our Lady, clasped her hands together, closed her eyes and let out what I thought was the most beautiful, peaceful and thankful smile I had ever seen in my life. It was a radiant smile that seemed to reflect her thoughts: Your daughters are all here today, Blessed Mother, to honor your Son through you and that the world — with all its challenges — is all right.

That smile brought me back to the Assumption chapel of my childhood... to the early morning masses with birds chirping along as the nuns sang their songs of praise...to the fragrance of incense at Benediction...to my First Holy Communion in my white organza dress...to all the lessons we learned and lifelong friendships forged... to a community where I felt nothing but love, understanding, humility and faith.

With that smile, I finally discovered the link between Old Girls Day and Mission Sunday — it is for us to reaffirm our own personal mission in our life as a wife, mother, sister, friend, nun, teacher or professional and most especially, as a daughter of Our Lady of the Assumption.

Assumpta est Maria! Indeed, the heavens take delight and happiness that the Blessed Mother has been borne aloft on angel wings to be with her Most Beloved Son.

(Assumption College Museum summer schedule: Tuesdays and Thursdays, 2:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m., by appointment. Call Czarene Revilla (894-2681) or Ria Salvana (0920-9000365.)

(You may e-mail me at [email protected])