I have been meaning to write about one particular unforgettable experience during my visit to Poland, but have not really sat down to do it. Although I did write a draft of this blog entry while still in Chudow, I never got to finish it there. So after more than four months of having restless sleep because all the words flow in my head while I am lying in bed, I am finally trying to work on this now. And it's the wee hours of the morning on a Friday. I am hoping my caffeine fix will take care of the impending headache later due to lack of sleep.
Will Work For Travel
If wanderlust were like pixie dusts that accidentally spilled over my head, I am certain I almost got buried underneath lots of it.
I love going places. The travel bug bit me deep enough to make my desire for globetrotting ridiculously insatiable. If only I could just pack my bags any time and go somewhere instantly! In every place of course, I have had memorable adventures and misadventures. Poland is stunningly unforgettable no doubt. I was expecting to be gobsmacked, and the country did not disappoint. But a misadventure happened to me there. And I put the blame solely on me.
Even When It Hurts Like Hell
We spent approximately five or six hours walking inside Auschwitz I and Auschwitz-Birkenau last July 21st of this year. We had just arrived Poland the day before from Vienna, thru the Czech Republic. Prior to that day, I travelled an estimated 16,000 miles from Wetumpka in Alabama, to Los Angeles, to Manila, then to Abu Dhabi and then to Vienna, and finally to Chudow. I have incurred thousands of flight miles before, but this was the first time I have spent almost 2 days straight, travelling 30,000 up in the clouds, and then almost the whole day on the road, without a proper rest. I did not complain. I was doing one of the few things I am passionate about.
But I have to admit that somewhere between Austria and the Czech Republic, my legs annoyingly started to throb. It was something like a dull ache. It was tolerable most times, but I'd be erratically flinching in agony.
I am not one who would consciously compare my mortal pains with the pains of hell. Never been there, and definitely not desiring to go there. But I know pain. The sort that would make one want to move away or even disappear. And the song aptly entitled Even When It Hurts by Hillsong United, which I have saved in my iPod for this trip became sort of like my anthem. I did not tell anyone at first that I was having issues with my stubborn leg.
Oooh but that song! "Even when it hurts like hell, I'll praise You. Even when it makes no sense to sing, louder then I'll sing Your praise…"
I was in Poland because God willed it that I should be there. I wanted to be there, but was resolved that if I couldn't go, then God wanted me some place else. But then I was already living the dream! I was in Saint John Paul II's motherland! And I could not let any physical limitation prevent me from encountering God over and over again. I literally travelled far and wide just to be there; my heart was too overjoyed because of the goodness of God towards me. The journey has just commenced, and I could not allow anything to spoil it.
Our schedule for July 23rd, 2016, was the 5:00pm send-off Mass with the Archbishop of Katowice, held at the Muchowiec Airport. That morning when I woke up, I felt leg pain but ignored it. I got ready for our call time at the Our Lady Queen of Angels Parish at 9:00AM. From Chudow, we took a bus that brought us to downtown Katowice. We spent the morning touring the city on foot. We went to the Christ the King Archdiocesan Cathedral of Katowice where there was a first class relic of Saint John Paul II. We were also taken to several tourist destinations in the city.
It was the third day of what WYD-DID's call "pilgrim walks". We're not tourists during those days, but pilgrims. A few days before, on July 20th, a Wednesday, we were in Vienna. The next day, July 21st, we were brought to the Auschwitz Museum; and the next day, to Jasna Gora to pay Our Lady of Czestochowa a visit. My legs and feet were tired, but tried to keep my pain to myself. I did not want to bother anyone, plus I knew that kilometers of walking were part of all WYD experiences.
But on that 23rd of July, all the walking took a toll on me. The pain that I started to feel initially while in Vienna became too bothersome to ignore. And my right ankle already started to swell. I could not hide it anymore.
So that fateful Saturday, even though I was determined to attend the WYD send-off Mass at the Muchowiec Airport, I was instead told by our priest minister to go home to my foster family and rest. I understood his wisdom. The coming days in Krakow would involve more hours on foot going from one place to another. In my head I was already thinking about the pilgrim walk to be able to attend the vigil with Pope Francis. During my last World Youth Day attendance in 2011 in Madrid, it was about a 12-kilometer walk. I had to be physically fit to go to Campus Misericordiae.
The Gift of Family
From Katowice, I rode with some volunteers from my "foster-parish." They dropped me off in Chudow, but my foster family, the Sukiennik's, weren't home when I arrived. Not wanting to cause more trouble, I opted to wait at the garden of my foster family, until another volunteer came to keep me company. (The Polish people are just so magnanimous and wonderful!) It was not a long wait before my foster sister Aga arrived. She and her husband Pawel had decided to take me to a doctor. I knew all I needed was rest, but they were worried I might have deep vein thrombosis. Being a nurse, though non-practicing, I knew the dangers of DVT. I reluctantly agreed to be taken to the emergency room. Blood tests were done, and the attending physician checked if I had Homans sign - calf pain on dorsiflexion of the foot. Thankfully, tests proved negative. It was a relief not only to me, but to the Sukiennik's and "my parish" in Chudow.
One thing I am very thankful about is how my foster family, as well as the parish, treated me as one of their own ~ as if they have known me for years and not only for three days! It was yet another manifestation of how truly beautiful the family of God is ~ and how God's love shown by my fellow Christians has no racial or cultural boundaries. I felt that I was a part of that Polish family and community. I belong.
I have to say, other than gaining spiritual benefits from that pilgrimage, one of the best gifts of Poland to me is the wonderful gift of family. I can confidently say that I have a family in Chudow who loves me unconditionally; I am definitely going back to visit "home."
Carrying My Cross
Even before this trip to Poland, I have been asking Saint John Paul II (for years since his death) to intercede for me to beg the Lord on certain prayer requests. I remember how in early 2005, I made plans to participate in the WYDs in Cologne, Germany because I knew it might be Saint John Paul II's last. I wanted to take my chances to see him again. 1995 seemed so long ago when I saw him a few meters away as his pope mobile passed by in front of me and my siblings during the World Youth Days in Manila. The then Pope John Paul II was still full of vigor.
Reflecting on the physical pain I underwent during WYD Krakow, I can't help but remember Saint John Paul II during his last days in his earthly ministry. He saw purpose in his suffering. He bore the cross of failing health with dignity, and I have so much to learn from his example and witness.
Quoting from Salvifici Doloris, his apostolic letter on the Christian meaning of human suffering, he wrote, " As the individual takes up his cross, spiritually uniting himself to the Cross of Christ, the salvific meaning of suffering is revealed before him. He does not discover this meaning at his own human level, but at the level of the suffering of Christ. At the same time, however, from this level of Christ the salvific meaning of suffering descends to man’s level and becomes, in a sense, the individual’s personal response. It is then that man finds in his suffering interior peace and even spiritual joy.”
My trip to Poland has reminded me time and again to persevere even in the midst of trials, to endure even when there's pain, to hold on to hope and believe that there are a thousand splendid suns just momentarily hiding behind dark clouds.
"Lord my heart burns only for You
You are all You are all I want
And my soul waits only for You
And I will sing till the miracle comes...
Even when the morning comes I'll praise you
Even when the fight is won I'll praise you
Even when my time on earth is done louder then I'll sing Your praise
I will only sing Your praise..."
 |
| At the Jasna Góra Monastery in Częstochowa, Poland with my foster family |
Will Work For Travel
If wanderlust were like pixie dusts that accidentally spilled over my head, I am certain I almost got buried underneath lots of it.
I love going places. The travel bug bit me deep enough to make my desire for globetrotting ridiculously insatiable. If only I could just pack my bags any time and go somewhere instantly! In every place of course, I have had memorable adventures and misadventures. Poland is stunningly unforgettable no doubt. I was expecting to be gobsmacked, and the country did not disappoint. But a misadventure happened to me there. And I put the blame solely on me.
Even When It Hurts Like Hell
We spent approximately five or six hours walking inside Auschwitz I and Auschwitz-Birkenau last July 21st of this year. We had just arrived Poland the day before from Vienna, thru the Czech Republic. Prior to that day, I travelled an estimated 16,000 miles from Wetumpka in Alabama, to Los Angeles, to Manila, then to Abu Dhabi and then to Vienna, and finally to Chudow. I have incurred thousands of flight miles before, but this was the first time I have spent almost 2 days straight, travelling 30,000 up in the clouds, and then almost the whole day on the road, without a proper rest. I did not complain. I was doing one of the few things I am passionate about.
But I have to admit that somewhere between Austria and the Czech Republic, my legs annoyingly started to throb. It was something like a dull ache. It was tolerable most times, but I'd be erratically flinching in agony.
I am not one who would consciously compare my mortal pains with the pains of hell. Never been there, and definitely not desiring to go there. But I know pain. The sort that would make one want to move away or even disappear. And the song aptly entitled Even When It Hurts by Hillsong United, which I have saved in my iPod for this trip became sort of like my anthem. I did not tell anyone at first that I was having issues with my stubborn leg.
Oooh but that song! "Even when it hurts like hell, I'll praise You. Even when it makes no sense to sing, louder then I'll sing Your praise…"
I was in Poland because God willed it that I should be there. I wanted to be there, but was resolved that if I couldn't go, then God wanted me some place else. But then I was already living the dream! I was in Saint John Paul II's motherland! And I could not let any physical limitation prevent me from encountering God over and over again. I literally travelled far and wide just to be there; my heart was too overjoyed because of the goodness of God towards me. The journey has just commenced, and I could not allow anything to spoil it.
Our schedule for July 23rd, 2016, was the 5:00pm send-off Mass with the Archbishop of Katowice, held at the Muchowiec Airport. That morning when I woke up, I felt leg pain but ignored it. I got ready for our call time at the Our Lady Queen of Angels Parish at 9:00AM. From Chudow, we took a bus that brought us to downtown Katowice. We spent the morning touring the city on foot. We went to the Christ the King Archdiocesan Cathedral of Katowice where there was a first class relic of Saint John Paul II. We were also taken to several tourist destinations in the city.
It was the third day of what WYD-DID's call "pilgrim walks". We're not tourists during those days, but pilgrims. A few days before, on July 20th, a Wednesday, we were in Vienna. The next day, July 21st, we were brought to the Auschwitz Museum; and the next day, to Jasna Gora to pay Our Lady of Czestochowa a visit. My legs and feet were tired, but tried to keep my pain to myself. I did not want to bother anyone, plus I knew that kilometers of walking were part of all WYD experiences.
But on that 23rd of July, all the walking took a toll on me. The pain that I started to feel initially while in Vienna became too bothersome to ignore. And my right ankle already started to swell. I could not hide it anymore.
So that fateful Saturday, even though I was determined to attend the WYD send-off Mass at the Muchowiec Airport, I was instead told by our priest minister to go home to my foster family and rest. I understood his wisdom. The coming days in Krakow would involve more hours on foot going from one place to another. In my head I was already thinking about the pilgrim walk to be able to attend the vigil with Pope Francis. During my last World Youth Day attendance in 2011 in Madrid, it was about a 12-kilometer walk. I had to be physically fit to go to Campus Misericordiae.
The Gift of Family
From Katowice, I rode with some volunteers from my "foster-parish." They dropped me off in Chudow, but my foster family, the Sukiennik's, weren't home when I arrived. Not wanting to cause more trouble, I opted to wait at the garden of my foster family, until another volunteer came to keep me company. (The Polish people are just so magnanimous and wonderful!) It was not a long wait before my foster sister Aga arrived. She and her husband Pawel had decided to take me to a doctor. I knew all I needed was rest, but they were worried I might have deep vein thrombosis. Being a nurse, though non-practicing, I knew the dangers of DVT. I reluctantly agreed to be taken to the emergency room. Blood tests were done, and the attending physician checked if I had Homans sign - calf pain on dorsiflexion of the foot. Thankfully, tests proved negative. It was a relief not only to me, but to the Sukiennik's and "my parish" in Chudow.
 |
| The attending physician at the ER put a bandage around my leg and told me to take ample rest. |
One thing I am very thankful about is how my foster family, as well as the parish, treated me as one of their own ~ as if they have known me for years and not only for three days! It was yet another manifestation of how truly beautiful the family of God is ~ and how God's love shown by my fellow Christians has no racial or cultural boundaries. I felt that I was a part of that Polish family and community. I belong.
I have to say, other than gaining spiritual benefits from that pilgrimage, one of the best gifts of Poland to me is the wonderful gift of family. I can confidently say that I have a family in Chudow who loves me unconditionally; I am definitely going back to visit "home."
Carrying My Cross
Even before this trip to Poland, I have been asking Saint John Paul II (for years since his death) to intercede for me to beg the Lord on certain prayer requests. I remember how in early 2005, I made plans to participate in the WYDs in Cologne, Germany because I knew it might be Saint John Paul II's last. I wanted to take my chances to see him again. 1995 seemed so long ago when I saw him a few meters away as his pope mobile passed by in front of me and my siblings during the World Youth Days in Manila. The then Pope John Paul II was still full of vigor.
Reflecting on the physical pain I underwent during WYD Krakow, I can't help but remember Saint John Paul II during his last days in his earthly ministry. He saw purpose in his suffering. He bore the cross of failing health with dignity, and I have so much to learn from his example and witness.
Quoting from Salvifici Doloris, his apostolic letter on the Christian meaning of human suffering, he wrote, " As the individual takes up his cross, spiritually uniting himself to the Cross of Christ, the salvific meaning of suffering is revealed before him. He does not discover this meaning at his own human level, but at the level of the suffering of Christ. At the same time, however, from this level of Christ the salvific meaning of suffering descends to man’s level and becomes, in a sense, the individual’s personal response. It is then that man finds in his suffering interior peace and even spiritual joy.”
My trip to Poland has reminded me time and again to persevere even in the midst of trials, to endure even when there's pain, to hold on to hope and believe that there are a thousand splendid suns just momentarily hiding behind dark clouds.
"Lord my heart burns only for You
You are all You are all I want
And my soul waits only for You
And I will sing till the miracle comes...
Even when the morning comes I'll praise you
Even when the fight is won I'll praise you
Even when my time on earth is done louder then I'll sing Your praise
I will only sing Your praise..."
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