The Heart Speaks

By Emmanuelle

Weird, but this story is oft-repeated, so many times occurring. A constant replay. There is such a one in your neighborhood. There is such a one in your family.

The population in their Barangay was not so big; thus almost everybody knew each other. So all of them knew that if ever there was any girl who fitted to a perfect T the image of a future ideal wife for a son or a brother, she would be May – pretty, polite, industrious, obedient to her parents, devoutly religious. She was so masimpit, but she always had a shy, sincere smile for everyone.  Bachelors of marrying age there and from the surrounding districts trip each other’s feet as they troop to her doorsteps.          

Josh had watched May grow up from a frail little girl to a beautiful young lady. He was older by more than a few years, but age difference matters not when one’s heart had spoken. For his heart had spoken, and it spelled out May’s name. She was his first, his one and only love.

To be fair, Josh was not such a bad catch. He was good-looking, although a little on the thin side. He was an artist, thus a very introspective man. He was respected by the village elders for the excellence of his craft and the trustworthiness of his word. Women around cast him wistful glances, hoping that one day, Josh might choose one of them to be his wife.  

You could hear a lot of hearts breaking when word got around that Josh had already made his heart’s choice. Actually, Josh need not announce his choice. It was too apparently obvious. You see, he worshipped her with his eyes.          

May must have cared for Josh too. When he asked her parents for May’s hand in marriage, he received no objection. So, preparation for the wedding was made.

Then, the bombshell struck.

Josh was told that May was with child. The child was not his.

He was given an explanation that would have made any normal, flesh-and-blood groom-to-be rush out and pack-up his suitcase for the disappearance of the decade. Really, I know quite a lot of guys who actually did this – disappear and not show up at the altar at all, or attend his wedding but file an annulment later on. Or marry the girl, but make her life so miserable she would wish she had not married him in the first place. Or wish that she had continued the deception by making him believe the child was his.  

Josh didn’t do any of these things. His heart had spoken, and he listened to his heart.

His affection and respect for May were the same as ever, maybe even more. Oh, the village must have talked. This was   the   stuff   that made    headlines in households during meals – “Antam, amay asawaen nen kien, onya manaya . .”

The marriage vows were made. Then, Josh took May to another Barangay – for her welfare, and for the child. When the infant boy was born, Josh took him into his arms. He took him into his heart! When Josh looked into the infant’s eyes, he saw the infant’s mother’s eyes look back at him. And more! Josh saw the world unfolding, and Mercy of all Mercies! He saw himself being enfolded back unto the infant’s small, beautiful self!

As Josh had worshipped May, so he had worshipped the child. He loved him as much, and brought him up as his own. His heart was big enough to have room for two. His heart even had room for the rest of the world!

Josh died ahead of May. He died quietly in his sleep. It was a gift to a good man, this kind of death, of quietly going away. A soft whisper, a gentle sigh.

A death for a saint. Josh  is St. Joseph. May is Mary. The infant is Jesus.

May you discern the lesson/s of this story. May you have a most meaningful Christmas.

(For past columns, click http://sundaypunch.prepys.com/archives/category/opinion/feelings/)

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