By Juliet Labog-Javellana

On may 26 last year the camalig or hot o the Mahilum family went to fire. There were five children and no parents. Rhona the oldest, 8 years old, single handedly carried one by one her four brothers and sisters to safety. As she braved the flames, each time she got more and more burned. Finally, after saving the last child she collapsed, exhausted in pain. We recall her brave story form the Inquirer newspaper where she was given a special citation from the president.

By Sr. Caroline M. Granil, FMDM

“Let the little children come to Me...
for it is to such as these that the Kingdom of Gods belongs .” (Luke 18:16-17)

London to Jordan

I am Sister Caroline M. Granil, a native of Cardona Tarlac. I belong to an International congregation and we are known as Franciscan Missionaries of the Divine Motherhood. I joined this Congregation in 1972 after I finished my Nursing training in London. I was sent to Amman Jordan in 1981 where we administer an Out-Patient Clinic of Mothers and Babies and General Patients. We serve both the Jordanians and Palestinians, Moslems and Christian Alike. Ninety percent however of attendances are Palestinians refugees from nearby Palestinian Camps, who fled Palestine in 1948 and 1967.

By Raymund Tilos Santes

On behalf of the Tilos Family, I would like to thank the Columban Fathers, especially Fr. Des, lay missionaries in Pakistan and to the Pakistanis as well for giving Sr. Pilar a very beautiful funeral. And the people of Hinobaan for proving once again that friends are friends –near or far, here or gone away.

When I was about 7 years old, things that most parents would probably not want their children to do were my favorites going to the beach alone, climbing trees, rooftops and even flagpoles, playing in the streets and going out with the big boys.

By Fr. Jim Mulroney

A Young worker chooses to suffer with her workmates rather than accept a bribe.

Several hours of following a trail of former addresses brought me to the font door of the home of Delma, her husband Rikki and their three children, I was in the middle of one of Manila’s largest squatter areas, and even on his hot, dry night, the soil oozed water my feet. Philsite is a swamp it cradles a shanty homes of 30,000 people. I entered their stuffy two room home and we spoke excitedly over the scream of mosquitoes. It was 13 years since I had last met Delma. She was then a 20 year old catechist at a community centre in a shanty town in another part of Manila. She had left her catechist job to work in a department store; her mother was sick so Delma needed a bigger income. Educated, intelligent and articulate she was promoted to section head. However, the staff saw her qualities, too. There been a long running dispute with the management about payment for overtime. Everyone had to work nine hours a day and were only paid eight. When they heard their union representative had been paid P160, 000 pesos for her resignation, they began to look towards Delma as one of their leaders.