REFLECTIONS : Need a Compass , Anyone ?
by TERESITA BACANI-OROPILLA , MD A Personal Story
We often wonder if in one ’ s lifetime , beside one ’ s family , there is someone or something that has influenced that life - a friend , a teacher , a colleague or two ? A movie icon ? A concept , maybe a book , perhaps a saint ? None of the above ?
This someone or something comes surreptitiously in one ’ s life , serving as a compass when doubts assail us .
To wit : as a 12-year-old , I was staying in a boarding school , unable to be fetched by my family the day the Japanese military started bombing Davao City in the Philippines . It was the start of World War II , December 1941 , also the first time I met my eventual “ compass .”
This young man in his early thirties and his companions were Canadian missionary priests , sent to relieve and take over from the aging Spanish priests who in turn were being called back to Spain .
As we crouched under coconut trees to avoid the Japanese planes firing upon us for fleeing the now occupied city , this person led us by night to safer farms and forests nearby . For the next three years , we evacuees went farther and farther into the mountains and jungle , avoiding the coastal areas where the Japanese had control .
In the meantime , in all those years , the man and his companions scoured the mountain “ barrios ” ( small settlements ) to give spiritual comfort .
I was eventually reunited with my family after two years and found out I ’ d gotten a new baby sister in the interim !
When the U . S . forces finally liberated the Philippines , peace was restored . Schools , churches and businesses were rebuilt , and normalcy returned .
After high school , now age 18 , it was time for me to select a career for the future . The choices were medical school or religious life , the latter of which my parents disapproved . Discussions included our now-bishop friend . Medical training both in the Philippines and the U . S . won .
A busy and satisfying pediatric and family practice followed . Emphasis was treating patients from neighboring “ barrios ,” some of whom had never been exposed to modern medicine . Tropical infections and malnutrition abounded , and seeing patients get well was a joy .
By then , a gentleman engineer that I had known for years came officially a-courting . Introduced to our bishop , they privately conversed for so long that it raised my doubts that the encounter was not favorable . My fiancé came out with a smile , however , and the gift of an antique crucifix ( which I still keep in their memory ). Our bishop eventually baptized our first child , a son . He later also invited his family from Canada and brought them to our home . Life was good !
Years later , however , for political reasons and fear of our son and daughter not being in a safe place to grow up in , with communism spreading in nearby countries , we bade the now-archbishop goodbye when we immigrated to the U . S . In the past 50 years , we have lived , worked and raised our children and grandchildren in the U . S . We have become Americans .
On one of my interim visits to the Philippines during those years , I visited the archbishop ’ s resting place . His tomb is in the undercroft of a modern cathedral in the midst of the capital city of Davao , the city and surrounding province that he loved and changed for the better .
In retrospect , I do believe that the archbishop was a compass that indeed influenced my comings and goings . For that I am grateful !
Would you agree ? Dr . Bacani-Oropilla is a retired pediatrician and psychiatrist .
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