Dear St. Paul’s Family,
With Mother’s Day around the corner, I’d like to tell you about my mother.
Her name is Teresita deVega, but most everyone calls her “Tessie.” She and my dad have been married for over forty years, with three handsome, charming sons. She was born into a large family, with five brothers and two sisters, who grew up in the seaside town of Calapan, on the northern coast of Mindoro, the Philippines’ seventh largest island. My mother’s family was well known in the region, since her father owned a large shipping business that distributed numerous products all throughout Mindoro.
Her family also had a home in the tiny barrio of Silonay, a secluded village of a few hundred families accessible only by a half-mile long foot bridge. Cars and roadways were therefore non-existent, and houses were clustered together around communal courtyards and water wells. Living necessities, such as groceries, clothing, and household goods, were purchased outside the barrio and were carried in by foot or bicycle into the village.
By the time she was twenty, she had earned her college degree in marketing from Far Eastern University in Manila, and soon afterwards met my father. They began a courtship that soon blossomed into a romance. With my father determined to raise a family in the United States, in order to give his children the best chance at the best possible life, he left for America in 1968 to find work, promising to return someday for my mother in order for them to get married. For several long months, with just a few dollars in his pocket, my dad crisscrossed the country, from San Diego to Key West, looking for employment, finally earning a job as a chemical engineer in St. Petersburg, Florida. Because of limited funds, my parents could not afford long-distance telephone calls between the U.S. and the Philippines, and mail delivery was quite unreliable. So for four long years, as my dad earned U.S. citizenship and established his new life here, they could not communicate a single time.
Yet, they waited for each other. And true to his word, when my father became a U.S. citizen, he went back to the Philippines for my mother, and they were married at the Garden Crest Presbyterian Church in St. Petersburg, Florida, in January, 1972. A year later, they gave birth to me.
Today, they continue to live in the same city, in the same house, with the same jobs as when me and my brothers were born. My dad still works as a chemical engineer with that same company that took a chance on that Filipino emigrant forty years ago, and my mom is still maintaining a house and home with grace and love.
A MOTHERLY LOVE
Mom grew up a devout Roman Catholic, attending a private school called Holy Infant Academy when she was a girl. The Christian faith was such a significant part of her upbringing that neighbors would tell stories of how little Tessie would sometimes stop right in the middle of playing with other friends in the street so that she could pray for a sudden need. After marrying my father, she became a practicing Protestant (first a Presbyterian, and now a United Methodist), and she maintained her strong belief in the power of prayer. She still prays her rosary beads every day, and includes in that ritual a daily prayer for me and my family.
My favorite childhood memory of my mother comes from the time I contracted a terrible case of the chicken pox. Prior to the vaccines that are now standard for children, it was never a question of whether my friends and I would get the chicken pox, but when. I knew from their accounts what symptoms to anticipate: the burning itch, the irritation, the fever, and all the aches and pains. Nonetheless, I was ill prepared for how miserable having the disease actually made me.
In the exaggerative mind of this ten year old, I was certain I was on death’s door. There was only one thing I knew to do, only one thing most desperate kids would do in dire straits. I called for my mother.
She came into my room, and with barely enough energy to mutter a word, I simply said, “Hold me.” She sat on my bed, wrapped me in her arms, and in the warmth of my mother’s embrace, I finally fell asleep.
It was not until a few days later, as I was on the mend from the chicken pox, that I discovered something else about my mother’s life in the Philippines. In all her years of growing up in that country, and in the brief amount of time she had thus far spent in the States, she had never had chicken pox herself.
She knew that, but I did not. We both knew that I was contagious, but she did not care. All that mattered to her in that moment was that her child needed her. He was beset by illness, he was moaning in despair, and her motherly instincts kicked in. She knew how difficult life would soon become for her – and, in fact, her case of chicken pox was twice as bad as mine – but nothing was more important to her than comforting me, caring for me, and nurturing me back to health.
It was not until I went to seminary that I reflected theologically on that childhood episode in metaphorical terms. Her sacrifice for me was decidedly Christological, embodying for me a vivid example of what Jesus Christ did for humanity. The church has often depicted sin as a woeful disease inflicted on humanity, passed from generation to generation, that must be overcome.
So Jesus came to assume our disease, knowing it would cost him dearly. He would be abandoned by his friends, publicly embarrassed and shamed, abused by his tormenters, and even forsaken by God. Ultimately, it would cost him his life on a hilltop cross. But Jesus knew that not dying would result in our living in the painful disease of our own sin. So he took on our misery. He bore our sins so that we would not have to, so that “by his stripes, we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5)
Now a parent myself, I am well aware of the sacred opportunity parents have to reflect divine love to our children. No parent is perfect, and many of you can attest that we do the best we can when we can, and we still make plenty of mistakes. But at our best, we can embody for our children the kind of unconditional love that God has for the whole world. No wonder one of the last things Jesus said before entering Jerusalem for the final time was a parental word, a lamenting word, a word of consolation for a people afflicted by sin:
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem...How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings…” (Luke 13:34)
Sounds like something any good mother would say.
Grace and Peace,
Magrey
The Rev. Magrey R. deVega
St. Paul's United Methodist Church
531 W. Main St.
Cherokee, IA 51012
Ph: 712-225-3955
Email: mdevega@sp-umc.org
MOTHER’S DAY MEMORIES ON FACEBOOK
Share your favorite memories, and even pictures, of your mother by visiting the church’s new Facebook page, facebook.com/cherokeespumc. You do not need to be a member of Facebook in order to access the site and upload your contributions. You can even read what others have shared.
SUMMER WORSHIP TIME
Because of scheduling conflicts with the Community Center, we will begin our summer worship time this Sunday, May 13. Worship will begin at 9:30am from now through Labor Day.
HOT DOG DAYS
Once again, St. Paul’s will be participating in Cherokee Hot Dog Days, this Thursday, May 10, starting at 5:00. To help out, contact the church office or see Jeff Blum or Darly Gochenour. Your efforts will help promote our exciting upcoming Vacation Bible School.
VACATION BIBLE SCHOOL JUNE 18-22
This year’s theme is “Sky!” and promises to be the most exciting week ever! VBS is for kids ages 4 through completed 5th grade. Registration will take place on May 13 and 20, and will take place June 18-22, from 9am to 12pm. We are in particular need of volunteer “crew leaders” whose job will be to guide the groups of kids from station to station every morning. Six more crew leaders will fill out all our volunteer needs for this year! Also watch for our VBS donation board in the community center over the next few weeks so that you can provide supplies and food items and help defray costs. To help out, contact Karen Long, at karedlong@yahoo.com.
CAMP FUND SPECIAL OFFERING
How about honoring your mother by helping send a child to a United Methodist camp this summer? This Sunday, we’ll be taking up an offering that will help children in our church and our community have a life-changing experience at Lake Okoboji this year. Make your checks payable to St. Paul’s, and designate them for the “Camp Fund.”
FIRE RECOVERY UPDATE
Sanctuary – Painters have finished painting the sanctuary, and are now moving to the narthex and the stairwells. As such, Grundman Hicks has begun tearing down the scaffolding. Carey’s Electronics has cleaned out all of the audio, visual, and computer equipment, and has begun pre-wiring the sanctuary for reinstallation of those pieces. The Trustees and Building Committee have begun exploring options for replacing the pew cushions, as well as looking at samples for new sanctuary carpet.
Kitchen and Dining Hall – The architect and some mechanical engineers came to do an onsite study of HVAC and electrical needs for the new kitchen and dining hall. The Building Committee will be meeting with them this Wednesday night to see updated plans. Our insurance representative met with us to check in with progress and has been apprised of the latest developments.
To view past editions of the Mid-Week Message, visit http://mdevega.blogspot.com
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