Like the sound of loose change inside an empty pocket, the two JVP crosses that once hung around my neck made a clinking sound with the very move. Each time I held the two nickel Jerusalem crosses, I recall all those who have been honored by these mementos of courage. I remember the two solemn Mission Masses wherein my JVP batchmates and I received these crosses, with heads bowed in prayer, along with unspeakable blessings for those who dared to go where the need is greatest.

“Baliw nga ba , kung ba’t kami narito, buhay na kay ganda, iniwan para sa Iyo. Sabi nga nila, ito’y pagsubok talaga, buhay mag-iiba ditto sa aming pasya” (Is it a fool to be here, a good life we h ave left behind just to follow You? But as they say, it’s all but a test; our lives would never be the same with the choice we have made)

With 24 other eager and talented batchmates, we sang and danced to “Panimula” (Beginnings) at the last part of our Mission Mass. We felt a bit silly doing a production number inside the St. Ignatius Chapel of the Loyola House of Studies in Ateneo de Manila. And yet even in this “crazed” state of leaving all the comforts we have known all our lives, there was deep joy palpably felt and seen. With the JVP alumni, dear parents, and friends to cheer us on and wish us well, we gracefully accepted the challenge to respond to a call of service and healing. It was like fans’ day. Cameras flashed here and there. We were all beaming with smiles, clad in our Batch 22 Shirt that read: Imagine the power of one multiplied several times over. Together let us make a difference.”

When the applause faded, the cheering eased to smile, and the song and dance stopped, the time came for us volunteers to face the music: our areas of assignment, our work, the people we would meet, our journey, and the lives God would be touching through our hands.

I taught economics, taxation, social issues, and religious studies, and was class adviser to the sophomores at the Sta. Cruz Mission School in the beautiful, cultural community, and ancestral domain of the T’bolis of Lake Sebu, South Cotabato. Most of my students were older than me, some of them almost twice my age. It was humbling how these people tried their best at everything – learning English, writing essays, and taking exams. It was inspiring how they embodied hope.

Being sent to South Cotabato was my first time to be away for a long time from the comforts of home and family. There were times when I thought I was really crazy like the rest of my batchmates scattered all over the Philippines. And when “crazy ones” like us get lonely or thrilled, we would write each other and share our stories of joy, frustration, and inspiration. Each night at 9:00, we would pause wherever we were and saw each other in prayer.

My first JVP year was like a mirror on which I saw myself. But it was unlike the mirror in my pocket that showed me what was external and superficial. The journey reflected truths about what was within me a I went through each day. God showed me humility as my weaknesses were revealed and armed me with courage when fears crept in. God taught me how to be gracious and grateful for small and simple blessings. Discovery was a gift in my first JVP year. Like a bird learning to use the gift of wings I wanted to soar and fly. And so, becoming “crazier,” I tried another year of service.

It was another full house at Batch 23’s Mission Mass at the Ateneo de Manila High School Chapel. And yes, we sang and danced again. With an equally interesting mix of people, the 28 brave souls of JVP Batch 23 wowed the people gathered with our rendition of Humayo’t Ihayag (God and Proclaim), with matching choreography. The chapel was full of beaming and proud parents, alumni and friends, armed with their video recorders and cameras.

The cool valley of Miarayon in the mountains of Bukidnon was my new area on my second JVP year. I taught Filipino in all year levels, also in biology and social studies, and was class adviser to the seniors of St. Therese of Miarayon High School. My students were diligent and came to school despite strong winds or rain. Some came to school very early in the morning after more than a kilometer’s walk. Many were children of farmers who were no strangers to toil and hard work; they knew the rudiments of planting and tilling the soil. My students and their lives taught me humility and simplicity.

  God showed me simplicity and beauty in my students, in the cheerful children, the majestic mountains, and in the fresh air I breathed in Miarayon. Far-flung and devoid of electricity and all urban luxuries, Miarayon is a mystical site that enthralls. Many consider it “holy ground,” a place where you must “take the sandals off your feet,” and heed, gaze, and be with God.

After two JVP years, I now wear two Jerusalem crosses around my wrist. They remind me of the JVP core values – service, simplicity, solidarity, social justice, and spirituality – and my treasured lessons from my journey. They inspire me to make my life a mirror that will reflect these values and lessons.

I am a certified fool and proud to be one, along with all those who have gone before me and have also worn one or two JVP crosses. We continue to be fools for the Lord: wounded healers, makers of peace, and workers for His vineyard.