I spent the bulk of the month of December in Tacloban City, Philippines. Almost immediately, it became my favorite place in the world. My first team, Women of the Well, paired with 8 girls from two other teams and made one big team of 15. We worked with a ministry called KIM (Kids International Ministries), started by Jeff Long, an incredibly selfless man of God who strives to empower Filipinos and give them a future full of hope. We worked at their campus on the island of Leyte called The Lighthouse. It was a beautiful month of growth. I learned so much about the way Jesus loves me, how I can look more like Him, and what it looks like to love others well, even when it is the last thing you want to do.
I spent my first Christmas away from home and while it was difficult to be away, I wouldn’t have traded my time in the Philippines for anything. Not only did I experience an incredible culture, I met two of the most amazing women I’ve ever known, and the lessons they taught me are worth missing an early morning of presents and festivities.
Before we arrived to Tacloban, we heard stories about Typhoon Yolanda (equivalent to Hurricane Katrina storm-wise) that hit the island in November 2013. My heart broke when I saw the community with my own eyes. Two years later, they are still working hard to recover. Samaritan’s Purse tarps, mass graves, and unrecoverable homes decorate the area. Boats that swept through homes are now memorials to remind the Filipinos of their resilience and strength. Typhoon Yolanda took homes, lives, and left a disastrous mess, but it did not destroy the spirits of the people of Tacloban City. The joy on the faces we saw, the embraces we felt from strangers, the resilience we witnessed despite unimaginable circumstances…
Aira is a spunky, sarcastic, beautiful woman of God. We immediately jumped into playful banter and I felt right at home with her. You would never know the horror she went through just 2 years prior. That tragic day changed the course of the rest of her life.
While in Tacloban, Aira recounted the events of the couple of days surrounding the typhoon. She was 23 years old and in her 2nd year of college. She was living with her sister, her brother-in-law, and her two nieces. The community had been hearing a typhoon was coming, but no one thought much of it as it is something they experience multiple times a year. On November 7, the day before the typhoon hit, the government suggested evacuation, but it was not forced or stressed appropriately. Aira and her family bought some canned goods, noodles, and first aid supplies just in case they were without power for a bit.
Later that afternoon, the pastor at the church Aira and her family attended called and told members to pack some things and go to the church to ride out the storm. Aira got her nieces ready and prepared things until her brother-in-law and sister got home from work. Aira’s brother and her parents stayed at a local school in her hometown.
Once at the church, Aira and her sister’s family settled in for the night. The typhoon made landfall somewhere around 2AM, but things remained peaceful for some time. Around 4AM, Aira was awoken by the loud sounds of rain and wind. She text her parents to make sure they were ok. The last text she received from them before cell service went out said that glass windows in the classrooms were shattering and they were afraid and under tables. While becoming increasingly afraid, Aira did what she could to take care of those around her. Once the water started to fill the church, Aira and the people around her fled to the staircase where they stood, holding their belongings and the children tight, as the storm raged around them. Glass shattered and shards flew into their skin as they attempted to wait out the storms. The crowd stood on the staircase for about 3 hours before the storm finally calmed.
As Aira looked outside, she was shocked. Houses had disappeared, trees covered the streets, and people could be seen clinging to the bodies of their loved ones lost. She walked the short distance to her sisters’ house and found that all of their belongings were either scattered about in trees or gone completely. Afraid of the fate of her family, Aira decided to walk to her hometown, about 5 miles away, to ensure they were alright. The walk was terrifying and anxiety grew as she wondered if her family was safe. She had to climb over trees, avoid loose animals, and did her best to avoid the multitude of bodies of those who didn’t survive the storm.
Once Aira finally arrived to the school where her family stayed, her fears grew as no one was there and the roof was missing. She walked to their home and found that nothing remained. She asked around in a panic, and was told her family could be found at a house nearby. Aira said as she walked she felt like she was carrying 5 sacks of rice, but the second she laid eyes on her family, the weight was gone.
That night, Aira went back to the church with her family and spent the night singing praises to the King and thanking Him for keeping them alive.
The next few days were rough, as there was no clean water so what little was available was used to mix formula for the babies. Aira and her family stayed at the church and took care of one another. A few days after the storm, a team from KIM came to Aira’s church to help with relief. Aira assisted them as they cooked meals for the people of the community. She says that helping others helped her recover emotionally, physically, and spiritually. “You don’t think of yourself, you think of others instead.”
The following months were difficult for Aira as she began suffering from PTSD. She could still see the faces of those who lost their lives. Panic attacks and severe anxiety began to cripple her. Aira stayed connected with KIM and eventually joined the staff after they bought a home in Tacloban to make the area a permanent site for ministry. Aira says that it was God’s will that she be a part of KIM because once she started working for them she began to find healing from the anxiety that was ruling her life.
Aira is now finishing up her undergraduate studies and plans to graduate in March and enroll in law school in July. Her perseverance and her unwavering faith astounded me as I listened to her tell her incredible story. May we be a people who stand firm through the storms.
The Lighthouse also has a social worker that works closely with the ministry and spends their time reaching out to the community and doing all they can to ensure their needs are met. One morning they told our team that they were going to pick up one of their clients to bring her to get her medication and asked if anyone wanted to tag along. My team leader, Ashley, and I joined, but had no idea what we were in for.
We pulled into a community not far from The Lighthouse. Adults and children alike waved and smiled as we rolled through. The community sat on the shore, so damage from the typhoon was still raw and visible. In true Filipino fashion, though, the people of the community did not let that get them down. Their joy shone through their smiles and hellos.
We walked up to Sarah’s home (her name has been changed for the purpose of this story) and waited for her to come to the door. We had been told on the ride over that she had elephantiasis in her legs and that we would be assisting her in getting the medicine she needs. When she appeared, I wondered what the extent of her condition was, as I couldn’t tell anything was wrong from our initial introduction. The social worker asked if she wanted to show Ashley and I her legs. We didn’t want her to be uncomfortable but she very briefly raised her pants leg to show us that behind the canvas were legs riddled with disease. She smiled a shy smile, tugged on her pants, and nervously welcomed us into her home. We sat in the dining room. A single radio sat on the kitchen table and a hammock hung in the corner. Sarah went along making sure all of her siblings were taken care of, changed from her hot pants into a more airy long skirt (a smart choice I thought, as it was a hot day), and followed us to the car.
Sarah was very quiet as we started our ride to the local health department office. Ashley and I attempted a little conversation, but uneasiness kept things short. We arrived at the health department and went through a maze of offices asking questions and being redirected. After a short wait, we were told Sarah’s medication wasn’t available at the time and that we could take her prescriptions to the local hospital and try there. We hopped in the car and started toward the hospital. Brief bouts of laughter came from Sarah as she watched us sing and dance along to the radio. We pulled into the hospital and were told us to just sit in the car with Sarah while the social worker ran in to see if they had the medication.
Ashley and I attempted to strike up some conversations with Sarah. She slowly started to open up to us. She told us about the pain she faces from the disease in her legs. She told us about the teacher who says “ew, get away from me” when she tries to ask a question. She told us about the kids at school who tease her. It was then that I noticed that Sarah didn’t change from her pants into a skirt, but rather put a skirt over them because she didn’t want others to see what the khakis were hiding.
Our hearts broke as we listened. She began to cry and thank us for trying to help her. Then she proceeded to tell us about the prayers she prays, and how she will never stop praying because she knows that God is there and that He cares. She told us she asked her dad what he was getting her for her birthday and how satisfied she was when he said he couldn’t get her anything but that he would be praying. I watched as she and Ashley chatted and begged God to give me the faith that Sarah had.
We prayed the medicine would be available. When told it wasn’t at the hospital, we tried one last place in the city. It wasn’t there, either, and I began getting angry with God because I knew He had the ability to make the medication show up on a shelf where it wasn’t before. I looked into Sarah’s eyes and asked God to show me how to love Him like Sarah does. May we be a people who pray with the faith that God can and will heal, but love Him just the same when He doesn’t.
I can’t tell you how many times people have told me they were proud of me for what I’m doing. And I’ll be honest and say that I’ve felt proud of me, too. I’m sacrificing a lot to be here, and that’s praiseworthy, right? When I think about these women, about the people I met in the Philippines, about the children who laughed and played and hugged and loved without shoes and with holes in their clothes, I don’t feel sorry for them. I don’t pity them. I pity me. What a life of poverty I’m living. One where I desperately need Jesus and where He is so readily available, but I choose materialism, and people pleasing, and self-gratification every time. I came on the World Race to change the world. But I’m not changing the world. The world is changing me.
Would you join me in praying for Aira’s schooling? Pray for her upcoming entrance exams, funding, and that avenues open up for her to know exactly how Christ wants her to use her law degree? And will you join me in praying that Sarah soon gets the medication she so desperately needs? If she can get it and take it for 6 months straight, the doctors will re-evaluate and consider doing surgery on her legs? Pray for strong friendships and encouraging mentors to come her way. And pray that the Lord can somehow give us the ability to see Him through the eyes of these two beautiful women, who serve Him with pure, self-sacrificing love.
