Remembering Kalayaan

It has been too long a time since I had last packed my bags--and all of my possessions--because I had to.

That was more than a month ago, and yet, the scenes appear as clear as VTR replays in my mind: I could, in fact, still hear myself bidding goodbye to friends,still feel the enormous mass of my possessions (I had to carry them, you know), still taste that day's bittersweet flavor. Not that I was shocked to leave--I had been preparing myself, and yet, I felt all the more disturbed. And sad.

There is always a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven.The Book of Ecclesiastes puts it all the more clearly. Nothing lasts forever.

My stay at the Kalayaan Residence Hall of the University of the Philippines was certainly not exempted from this general rule. While it is comforting to think of the entire situation as part of the cycle of things, of God's pre-ordained plan, a difficulty, perhaps a question, always springs into my mind: Why?

I cannot answer that question alone. Even with some help, I still won't be able to. My mind is too finite for such things. Only God knows. Only God can.

I feel a magnetic sense of attachment whenever I pass by the Kalayaan to get to the University Shopping Center to eat my meals or buy something. I remember the wide-eyed, enthusiastic, energetic, noisy freshmen who once lived there, and the things they did. I was one of them. I was one with them.

But things change.

I can only take comfort in the fact, a universally acknowledged fact, that wherever I am, the Lord will be faithful to do everything for my good. That is the only assurance I will always hold on to, in this life or in the next.