Surprise!

Except for the four years I was in college, I’ve lived in Cebu my whole life. And whereas for most people familiarity breeds contempt, I think I’ve learned to love my “little” hometown more and more over the years. I take pride in knowing the little stories handed down to me by my grandparents and parents of what the old Cebu used to be like. I like showing off the city to out-of-towners and sometimes feel strangely overprotective when too many of them come. And yet in many ways, I really still am a stranger in my own hometown.

In fact, I only ever get to go to tourist places and famous sites when I have to show others around. And to my shame I find that I have friends who stay in Cebu for a couple of years and have been to more places than I have.  So sometimes, they become the tour guide and I become the tourist.

For someone who thrives on routine and the mundane, I’m not supposed to like being in new places and being out of my comfort zone, even in my own hometown. But over the years, I’ve come to see how more often than not the unexpected and the unknown really do offer the best experiences. So while I do not necessarily seek out these experiences, I’ve learned to embrace them as they come.

And it is precisely this encounter with the unfamiliar (whether it is an actual place or a person or an event) that makes me more familiar with who I am. I’ve always had a pretty good grasp of who I am (or at least I think I have). I have preconceived notions of how I think I’ll act or how I’ll decide given certain situations. But new encounters and new experiences allow me to test my theories. And I must say, sometimes, I surprise even myself.

These surprises mean that I am growing. That my horizon has not stopped expanding. That I have not lost the ability to learn and change. And knowing this makes me hopeful. Because one of the things that I’ve always been anxious about is that I’ll be the same person I was at 25 that I will be at 35, and 45 and 55, and who knows how long I’ll live.

Oh, I know my face will grow more wrinkles and my hair will grow gray and my knees will probably give out more. But I also hope that my heart will grow bigger and will be better at loving. I hope that my sense of humor will grow deeper and that I will not take myself too seriously. I hope that my faith will grow stronger and that I will learn to see God as he is and not as I would want him to be.

When Pope Francis came to the Philippines last month, he talked about being open to the God of surprises: “Real love is being open to the love that comes to you. The love that surprises us. If you only have information you are not surprised. Love surprises because it opens a dialogue of loving and being loved. God is a God of surprises because He loved us first. God awaits us to surprise us. Let us allow ourselves to be surprised by God.”

I love that image of the God of surprises, like a father waiting behind the door to spring a happy birthday on his unsuspecting child. I thought I saw a glimpse of him last week, as I went on a road trip down the south of Cebu. And as the car rounded the curve, the beautiful sea and sky greeted me with all its glorious blues and greens. “Surprise,” it seemed to whisper. “Surprise!”