Homecoming

Once a week, we would leave the slum community we were living in to go back to the Tip Top Guesthouse that has graciously hosted Trekkers over the years. It was here that our team would reconvene for a one-day Sabbath. I remember what it felt like to return to the guesthouse after that first week - restful, comfortable, and refreshing. Some of us had just returned from a 10-day retreat with Onesimo girls that had been incredibly rewarding, but also quite draining. Seeing the guesthouse and our other teammates was a joyful homecoming celebration.

But somewhere in the next 5 1/2 weeks my concept of home changed. On the last day of the Trek we said our final goodbyes to those that had hosted us all summer. As I walked away from Philcoa 1, the Onesimo girls' center that I lived at, I realized that it was the last time I would walk the narrow alley leading to the center steps or greet the neighborhood children who normally play on those steps. No longer would I wake up to the sound of Tagalog songs blasting from downstairs or hear the roosters crowing at 4am. No longer would the pungent smell of the trash-filled river mix with the delicious smell of ulam (food) cooking in the morning. No longer would I fall asleep to the warm embrace of Rosalin and Maan or walk to the market holding Lovely's hand.

As these realities slowly sunk in, I didn't want to leave. As difficult as the summer was, homecoming no longer meant returning to the comforts of the Tip Top guesthouse. Homecoming meant living in Philcoa 1 - sleeping, eating, and dancing alongside some of the most beautiful girls I had ever met.

I'm amazed that in a center of 13 girls, 1 CR (bathroom), and wala tubig (no water) after 9pm, God gave me a place to rest my head - a place to call home.