I was 18 then, and I fully understood the gravity of the occasion. The memory of that day in Manila remains vivid, as if etched into my soul. The city was alive and buzzing with energy that felt both electric and serene. Thousands gathered, unified by faith, waiting for a glimpse of the Pope’s motorcade. My aunt, ever the thoughtful one, bought limited-edition merchandise adorned with Pope Francis’ face, a souvenir I still keep tucked away in my closet, a reminder of that unforgettable day.
The streets were packed with people, but there was no chaos. Instead, there was pure anticipation and joy. I remember standing for hours, hoping to catch a clear view of the Pope. The rain did not dampen anyone’s spirits. Families, draped in colorful ponchos, sat on small, portable chairs, undeterred by the weather. That resilience was powerful and a testament to the Filipino spirit, marked by hope, unity, and faith.
The air was thick with emotion as the Mass began. It wasn’t just any Sunday; it was Santo Niño Sunday, a celebration honoring the Child Jesus, a symbol of innocence, faith, and devotion. Pope Francis’ homily struck a deep chord within me. Reflecting on the Gospel from Mark 10:15, he reminded us, “Whoever does not accept the Kingdom of God like a child will not enter it.”