Humble Abode – Chapter 3
Preview from Prince of Sumba, Husband to Many Wives
Pastor Sam’s house was built into the side of a hill. Its large foyer opened to an expansive living room. Four huge plate windows framed a postcard view of the harbor. The dining area was equally spacious and had both hillside and harbor views. The floors were made of oversized cuts of marble.
Upon entering, I could see the maids moving about the giant pantry on the other side of the kitchen. This was the first pastor I’d visited who had such accommodations, not to mention servants. He could see we were in awe of his home, so he took us on a tour. There was a master suite, a sewing room, a den, several multi-purpose rooms, and twelve additional bedrooms. There were also a number of guestrooms that resembled the master suite. I noticed that every room had mahogany panels covering the walls and the only seams I could make out were at the corners where the panels joined.
Sam responded to my obvious curiosity.
“The man who owned this home before it was given to the church, built it with the hope of having a large family. He and his wife planned to have many sons, just like Jacob. Unfortunately, she was barren, and after a few years of living here, they could no longer stand to be reminded of her barrenness by the empty rooms. Every one of those single cut panels of mahogany you’ve been admiring were put together with love. The entire home was a gift of love. It’s such a shame that they were unable to fill it with the fruit of that love. As a matter of fact, I keep telling my wife, Sarisa, that she must bear me children again soon. This house was given to the church with the stipulation that they can’t put a pastor out of it, as long as his wife is pregnant, or before their youngest reaches his first birthday. Before we moved here, we could never have conceived of such a thing.” Sam winked.
“Now let me get this straight.” I said. “You and Sarisa keep popping out kids, and this house is yours, no matter what? No monthly payments? No landlord? That’s a good way to make sure all the rooms get filled. How many children do you have so far?”
“Only four.” he said. “We’ve only got eight to go before the home is paid off.”
“Paid off?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s the last stipulation the owner made when he gave this house to the church. If the pastor who lives in it fills all twelve bedrooms with his own children, the house is his!”
“I would love to meet the man who gave this house to the church. He must have interesting thoughts. Who is he?” I asked.
“Nobody knows. It was given anonymously.” Sam said. “Every rich barren couple in town is suspect.”
“Wait a minute,” Mary protested, “You just told us that the couple lived here for a while. How is it that none of the neighbors know who they are? “
“Neighbors? Thirty years ago, when this home was built, there were no neighbors. All of the homes you see around here are built on land leased from the church. Mr. Tigas gave this home, along with the entire hillside, to the church, before any other homes were built.”
“But you just said it was Mr. Tigas,” Mary protested.
“Well, we do know his name, but there are hundreds of families by that name living in the area, and every one of them lives up to their name.”
“Lives up to their name?”
Mary was now beginning to suspect Pastor Sam was teasing us. Pastor Sam clarified:
“The meaning of Tigas, is hard, some say hard, as in hard headed. Mary, I don’t want you to think I’m kidding because I’m not. I know it sounds strange but surely there are donors in your country who wish to remain anonymous. What if one of their names was Smith or Jones? Would you have any idea who they were?”
“Well, you’re right about that.” Mary said. “It’s just that Ish is such a kidder that I thought the two of you might have conspired to make up some wild story so that you could have fun making me believe it.”
“Mary,” I said, “Tigas does mean hard, and it’s not that uncommon of a surname. I’ll get you my dictionary.”
“No need to do that.” Mary said. “I believe Sam. It’s such a nice story to believe anyway. Well, not so nice for the couple that couldn’t have kids, but it’s nice the way it’s turning out for you folks.”
I hadn’t conspired with Sam as Mary had suspected. I was as fascinated by Sam’s story as she was. Such a story; Mr. Tigas had actually wanted a dozen children. A story like this would never be believed in the States. The government schools had so brain washed the kids into believing there were too many of them, that by the time they’d grown up they actually believed the country was overpopulated. The United States was a country with less than one hundred people per square mile1 and yet its people believed three children was too many. Too many children, ha! The Bible says, Happy is the man whose quiver is full of them.2 As for Mindanao, it was still a place where families were large and where many children were rightly considered a blessing. The story of Mr. and Mrs. Tigas was an especially fitting tale. I knew that if Sam were really kidding, he’d tell us at dinner. To think how many American couples would never get this house, given the same situation. Could you even pay them to have more than a few kids? What a wretched people indeed would consider blessings a curse!3 I was glad this mission would give me time to reflect on the prospects of a mission to my own people; to the people of America; a people that had begun to see the government as the provider, instead of understanding how greatly the Lord provides for each one of us, for He created us.4
“To Sarisa and me,” Sam said, “having lots of kids has always been a dream. Now with my position as pastor of Tigas View Bible Church, we’ll be rewarded for living that dream.”
Sam walked us back to the living room where Sarisa had laid out a tray of pastries and coffee.
“I hope you don’t mind if I leave you for a while.” Sam said. “I have a few appointments before tonight’s meeting. I’ll see you in a bit.”
Mary and I were left alone in this immaculately kept living room while the maids went about getting everything ready for our dinner with the church board.
Then I smelled it; a stench!
I whispered. “Mary, do you smell that?
She sniffed. “Eww, what is it!”
We both sniffed again to determine the source of the smell, then Mary looked at me with one of those crooked little expressions she gets, and said:
“It’s you!”
She was right. It was me! My body had not yet accustomed itself to the tropical climate, not to mention the fact that I hadn’t changed my clothes since we boarded our flight in the U.S. I guess you could say my clothes were beginning to ferment. Fortunately, Tony had left our bags sitting next to the door. I pulled out a change of clothes and hurried to one of the many bathrooms and showered. Just as I came out of the bathroom wearing my clean change of clothing, one of the maids walked by.
“Excuse me.” I asked her, “Could you please put my clothes in the laundry?”
She looked at my clothes which were lying on the bathroom floor, poked at them with the end of her broomstick, and said:
“Eww!”
Apparently, she’d overheard Mary and me when we’d first noticed the smell. The other maid brought a dustpan and squatted down to hold it while the first tried to push my clothes into it with her broomstick. When the clothes fell out of the dustpan and nearly touched them, they squealed, “Eww!” then tumbled backwards onto the floor laughing.
I couldn’t help but laugh with them.
“I’m Ish.” I said, reaching down with both hands to help them to their feet.
“I’m Rosemary, and this is Analyn.” The maid armed with the broomstick said.
Analyn matter-of-factly lifted up my elbow and sniffed my armpit.
“Ah, much better. Your wives will be very happy now. Oops, sorry sir, I meant your wife will be very happy.”
Analyn’s slip of the tongue made them giggle all the more.
“Please just call me Ish.” I said.
I wasn’t sure whether Analyn was kidding with the wives comment or if it really was a slip of the tongue. I remembered the missionary who was sent home for insulting the hotel clerk. I said a silent prayer for him right then, that he’d stop taking the little things in life too seriously and start enjoying life’s blessings.5 How wonderful it is when the help can make fun without fearing for their jobs. My request to put my clothes in the laundry had become an introduction to a pair of adorable young ladies.
The members of the church board and their wives arrived a bit late, Philippine time they called it. When our dinner finally began, Pastor Sam joked:
“Beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Filipino as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.”6
The meal was tasty, but Mary and I were suffering a bit too much from jet lag to enjoy it. Tony took us to the apartment that had been arranged for us a little sooner than planned, since we were starting to nod off during the meal. We hadn’t meant to be rude but thirty-six hours without sleep is a bit much.
When we arrived at the apartment that would be our home, Tony put all of our stuff inside; four large boxes containing everything we felt necessary to start our new life. Mary had crammed all she could into those balikbayan7 boxes. That’s what they called the huge boxes that nearly everyone going to the Philippines used to bring with them. Mary didn’t let it bother her that she was the only one at the airport still using them. Could she help it if the church’s only Philippine travel book was printed in 1985? At least she had her loot. She’d brought our best dinner plates and silverware, even bed sheets that she’d gotten on sale the day before we left.
I thanked Tony for picking us up at the airport and helping us get our stuff into the apartment, then I gave him some cash.
“It’s for your children’s educational expenses.” I said, speaking his native tongue. “It’s our custom.”
Tony was so shocked that I was speaking his language, that he forgot Philippine custom, to object to payment when doing favors at least once, before accepting the second offer.
“Thank you sir. Thank you.” He said. “So nice to hear you speak our language.”
“It was the least we can do,” I replied, “considering you forfeited a day’s wages to cater to our transportation needs.” I knew that if I’d directly offered to pay Tony, he would have refused. But the mission school taught me the trick of offering it for the children’s education, and it worked, along with speaking his language.
Now Tony rattled off something so fast in his language that I understood just one part of it; he’d be back Sunday morning to take us to church.
Mary and I were both so excited to settle in that as soon as Tony left, we started to sort through our stuff. Mary prepared our bedroom and tidied up the bathroom, while I put the rest of our belongings in place. We had barely enough energy left after packing to brush our teeth.
Mary was out the moment she laid down. I lay there, awake and alone for the first time since we’d arrived. I pondered. My vision of Mindanao had been one of grass huts and coconut palms blowing in the wind. Cagayan de Oro was so different from my expectations. It was a huge city with an international harbor, shopping malls that made US malls look tiny, and Sam’s church was financially independent. For what reason had the Lord brought me here? Had I closed my eyes to the obvious? Or was my lack of vision a work of the Lord? Was He closing my eyes to something that He would show me only when I was ready? I dozed off, unaware of how prophetic my thoughts would turn out to be.
Chapter 3 Footnotes
1. CIA Factbook – United States
2. Psalm 127:5 Happy [is] the man that hath his quiver full of them: they shall not be ashamed, but they shall speak with the enemies in the gate.
3. Revelation 3:17 Because thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked.
4. Genesis 1:27-28a So God created man in his [own] image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them and God blessed them.
5. James 5:16 Confess [your] faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed. The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.
6. 2 Peter 3:8 But, beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day [is] with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.
7. Balikbayan – One who returns to their country. A balikbayan box is a card board box that in inches measures 20 X 20 X 22 and was once carried by nearly every Filipino who returned to the Philippines. A family of five was allowed to carry ten such boxes without an additional charge. Ten boxes can weigh a total of seven hundred pounds! In the last century it was not unusual to witness frantic Filipinos at the airport, moving items between boxes to bring each one under the seventy-pound limit. If you ever needed to borrow boxing tape at the airport, you needed but to find the nearest ticket counter for flights leaving for the Philippines. Balikbayan boxes are still used to ship goods by Filipino shipping companies in the U.S. Any large city has at least one such shipper.
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