Early Morning Guests

A few minutes before 5 AM, every day, I put on my rubber shoes, sweatshirt and jogging pants.  

 

Then I am off to my one-hour prayer walk. At this hour, all is quiet and dark—the better to enjoy my own sen-surround: the rustling of leaves, the crowing of roosters afar, and chirping of birds above.

Before my hour is up, just when the sun slowly rises, my husband, Tony, goes on his. Unlike me, he likes to dawdle in bed, walk under the rays of the morning sun, and listen to human footsteps. During his hour, he sends off many people to work and greets fellow walkers.

This morning, he meets three children pushing a small cart, rummaging through garbage bins and looking for anything that may still be of value.

As he is wont to do, he invites them over to our home, saying he has a few things for them which may never make it to the garbage bins. When he comes in the gate with three little children in ascending heights, I wonder why the parents of these tiny tots would send them off walking around so early. My children, thrice their ages, won't be up till maybe another hour.

I hear my husband ask, “Have you had breakfast?”

And I hear three small voices reply, “No, sir.”

“Do you ever have breakfast?” I can’t help but come near and butt in.

“Sometimes,” they reply.

We get to work, Tony and I. (These days, we are on crisis mode. Ate Vi is on her two-week annual leave and Jen, with whom she left instructions, is busiest early in the morning.) We prepare three glasses of hot chocolate and make three sandwiches. Then he sits and chats with them in our little garden.

Between the two of us, Tony should be the children’s book writer. He dotes on children, anybody’s children. He hisses, "No child should ever work" whenever he sees street children peddling newspapers and sampaguita. No, he doesn't work for the Dept. of Labor or the Dept. of Social Welfare.

They’re not as young as I thought; their sizes belie their ages. They are siblings: Alberto, the eldest, is 12; Roberto is 10; and Mary Jane is 8. They live in the slums a few kilometers from our place. And they’re working during the summer break to help their parents.

I am getting a little better with my digicam now so I took shots of our guests while Tony gives them a discourse on the importance of education. We can't keep them longer than breakfast time; they’re out on an errand for their parents. And we respect that.

Tomorrow, they may be in another neighborhood, or off to some other errand elsewhere.

But today, the privilege to have them as guests is ours.

It is our early morning grace.