The soul of a missionary migrant, Sr Noemie E. Digo
The Migrant’s Path
I worked in the corporate world for 15 years and been part of catholic church life for more than that. I am Noemie, a Filipina by birth and by God’s benevolent gaze, am now a Scalabrinian Sister.
Being a migrant must have been my birthmark. Brought forth from my mother’s womb, I came into the world on the crest of a quake-ridden world. The ancestral home was not to be my birthing place, but the native “nipa hut” nearby. That day, the earth was “on the move” too.
There were lots of mobility experiences in my young life, but my next big move, was the passage to college. It entailed separation from my family, living and working along with internal migrants who, like me, were looking for a more lucrative life or preparing for a better future in the burgeoning city. The Pontifical University of Santo Tomas, in the heart of Manila, welcomed me into its venerable portals. It opened me to the enviable experience of a migrant student’s life. Aside from the double toil of hard-earned grades, one has to gain credence with the cosmopolitan bred student body, urbane professors, sophisticated work force and learn to live with massive, century old buildings and the skyscrapers that dwarfs you to smithereens. For someone born and bred in the simplicity of small town, these new environ can be a snare or a gain. The tongue twisting “Tagalog”, Filipino if you must, always was a trap for the unwary and pristine speaker. The tricycle ridden roads of Bicol would not compare with the multi-transport system of the metropolitan area. In such a huge metropolis, an unwary migrant teen can easily be lost; for everything would be so overwhelmingly colossal, impressively exciting and awe inspiring. It never entered my mind that this “big move” would transport me to places that only in my dreams existed.
The Journeyman Came a-Calling
The Call came gradually. The vibrant voice of a youthful, energetic nun in a white, did me in first. Her earnest appeal to be part of the Student Catholic Action, pulled strings in my meandering heart. But the answer was “not yet”. I did join that Ministry with great enthusiasm and experienced my first church-based apostolate one Easter Vigil Night of Holy Saturday, in the somber Cathedral of my hometown. That night, the newbie choir with its youthful voices blended in with the solemn celebration of Jesus’ Resurrection. “The Lord has Risen indeed” in my young life. That short-lived church involvement petered out in time as college studies took over. The re-awakening of my slumbering vocation came in the Junior year. The Legionaries of Mary came a-calling in my doorstep. Mother Mary had always held a special place in my heart but Church work is still a beguiling mystery to me. With my avid, young heart, I responded to their invitation with alacrity.
The legionaries’ zeal for needy souls brought me to families of poor internal migrants huddled in dinghy shanties around the neighborhood of fenced-in houses, to the sickly impoverished ones in hospital charity wards and to the inmates in city jails who were fed with watered-down veggies and lie in cramped spaces. It taught me religion and faith through the dedication of elderly legionaries who faithfully attend weekly meetings and do home visits with determined effort despite doors and gates closing on their wrinkled faces. Sacramental preparation comes with the office of a legionary… lived-in couples, unbaptized, unconfirmed children, viaticum for the infirm were part of the weekly visits, and many a times you also take on the godmother role for the sacramental rites. “What one does and give to save one soul.” This apostolate molded my moral and spiritual life and brought me to my knees often. Each Hail Mary I uttered in prayer, comes with a plea “help us to do good to others.” I learned later that these same prayerful laments were part of the prayers of Blessed John Baptist Scalabrini, my future Father Founder.
Scalabrini, Miracle Drawer
Family responsibilities held me up for a long while. The “not yet” became, “may be later”. The Lord was patient. That was until that fateful day in April, Holy Saturday, His voice came loud and clear “I want you to be a religious, I want you to serve me”. The visit to that far off convent was a spur of the moment decision. But meeting my first Scalabrinian Sister was a real homecoming experience. Finally, I was caught, I said my “yes”, a willing victim of the loving embrace of a faithful God.
Blessed John Baptist Scalabrini was introduced to me during my formation years. My Father Founder showed me deeper insights into the migrants’ life and struggles. The mission immersion years in the Episcopal Commission for Migrants and Itinerant Peoples brought me face to face with situations of families left behind and future overseas Filipino workers’ great aspirations for a better future. My work/study assignments in Rome and Illinois, showed me the other face of human migration, through the daily close encounters with Filipino and Latino migrants struggling to maintain their work status to feed their families and/or send the much-awaited remittances to their families overseas. The nostalgia for their loved ones and the moral temptations they face, each time loneliness strikes, are some of their crosses. These grueling preoccupations did not deter them from active church involvement. A lively, ardent religiosity sprouts where migrants congregate. The churches brim over with animated devotional practices, fiestas and liturgical celebrations, which draws people to participate and be part of the church again.
Twenty-five years forward. I am now in Tagum City, a fast-growing city of hard-working people in Mindanao, Philippines, gratefully and joyfully immersed in the diocesan pastoral work for migrants. Five months to date since I assumed this apostolate, I’m getting to know the terrain and the heart of the Tagumenos. Like any other places in the Philippines, migration fever is alive in this town, the pastoral workers themselves have lived the migration experience and current survey shows about 3,000 more are out there contributing to our country’s economy. The epidemic may have deterred some, but numbers show human mobility will continue, despite its social cost. I am living again the migrant experience, together with a people who takes care of their own; dedicated, zealous workers of the church who want to make a difference in the life of their migrant brothers and sisters. What more can I ask? St. John Baptist Scalabrini, pray and bless our apostolic efforts. Amen.
