By Simon Pedro
Yesterday, I was invited by Christy (not real name), a former officemate, to join her and Paul (not real name) for her son’s baptism. I thought I was just a visitor, but upon arriving at the church, I found myself being led to a seminar for godparents. Though I had no prior idea I was to be a godfather, I went along with it, embracing the moment and reminding myself to stay humble, even though I had already assisted in similar events before.
The catechist’s talk on baptism was familiar yet refreshing, with new insights that reminded me how much there is always to learn. I felt blessed to be part of Louie (not real name) Christening. But while my heart was full, my stomach was less forgiving—I was starving, and so were Paul and Marie, my companions.Â
Paul, being a diabetic like me, needed to eat soon, and I could feel my own blood sugar dropping as the hour-long seminar dragged on. Still, we stayed patient, fulfilling our roles as godfathers for Louie. Nevertheless, the seminar ended with some reminders from the catechist on what we need to observe when the baptismal ceremony unfolds. Time to go to church for the ritual.
Before the church service, Cindy had given us breakfast meals, thinking we might need something before lunch. Paul ate his pancakes right away, but I decided to wait, confident I could hold off for a bit longer. I passed my meal to Paul’s brother, who had kindly driven us to the church.
At the baptism, we sat on the left side of the altar as the ceremony began. While watching everything unfold, I noticed no one was taking pictures, especially during key moments like when Louie is being dressed with his baptismal cloth. As a godfather, I stepped in, snapping photos of these precious memories, knowing how much they would mean in the future. By the time the baptism ended, we were beyond hungry, but with a second celebration—Louies’ first birthday—awaiting us, we headed to the party venue.
The event hall was lovely, but the food wasn’t ready. As we waited for Louie to change into his birthday outfit, our hunger reached new heights. Paul and I knew it was time to go; our health couldn’t wait. We said our goodbyes and made our way to McDonald’s.
There, I ordered a two-piece chicken meal, determined to finally eat. Paul even generously paid for our meals. While savoring my food, a young Badjao girl approached me, asking for something to eat. My first instinct was to protect my chicken—I was starving! But deep down, I knew what I had to do. I gave her the extra piece, along with the rice. It was a small sacrifice, but it felt right. I realized I could buy chicken anytime, but for her, that meal might be one of the few blessings she’d receive in a long time.
Each of these moments called us to love, to give, and to sacrifice so that others could experience happiness, comfort, or joy. Whether through small acts of humility, generosity, or patience, the moral of the day became clear: Love until it hurts, and love until it hurts no more, because in giving, we truly receive.