With Love, From Iloilo, Part 4

Picking up where we left off in Calajunan: The missions team from Grace Church was trying to avoid a downpour at the city dump/squatter village, while I was secretly thanking God for the rain. It meant we didn’t have to go any further on our tour and endure the flies and unbearable stench of the trash.

Abigael, our guide, was ushering us quickly toward the road. It was a long walk, so she hailed a couple of taxi trikes to get us further out where a Jeepney could take us all the way home. Our trike driver was a woman about my age and size. We climbed aboard and sped off so quickly  that even the rain drops felt cold and stinging in that hot climate. I noticed that some of the other trikes had plastic coverings for the driver, but ours did not. Although we passengers were mostly covered by the awning over us, our driver was exposed to all the elements -- the large, and increasingly heavier, raindrops splattering on her bare arms.

I thought about the lightweight rain jacket that I had brought for the trip. It was one of my favorite jackets and was fairly new, at least for me. (I don’t buy clothes that often.) Since it was the rainy season in the Philippines, we had been told to bring our umbrellas and rain jackets with us. It was balled up at the bottom of my backpack, which traveled with me everywhere I went, along with a small roll of toilet paper, a tube of hand sanitizer, and a constantly used water bottle.

I recognized the gentle tug of the Holy Spirit inside, encouraging me to help someone in need. “Not my favorite jacket, Lord!” I protested. By this time, the driver had delivered us to the main road and we were clambering out. I knew if I waited longer, I would miss my opportunity. While everyone else was looking for oncoming jeepneys, I lingered at the trike, pulled out the jacket and handed it to her. She looked confused. Then she slowly held out her hand, “For me?” she said in her careful English.

I nodded and hurried over to the others. When I looked back at her, another client had climbed aboard, ready to leave. I watched her slide the jacket over her arms, rev up her bike, then raise her eyes, locking her gaze with mine. I will never forget the wonder in her look as she nodded her head in my direction before she sped off.

I don’t know what happened to that jacket. I like to think of my driver friend wearing it in the rain and remembering that somebody saw her need and cared about her. It’s more likely that she sold the jacket soon afterward to buy something her family needed more urgently. It doesn’t matter, though. The look in her eyes of surprise and appreciation at an unexpected gift was worth it all to me.