True Merit of A Woman

So what is the true merit of a woman nowadays? Is it the looks, the career, the values, or the financial status? I have no f''ing idea really, but I'm much closer to finding out after today.

So there we were, my mom, two sisters, and me, at the storm-friendly Mall of Asia (read: Storms can get in and out of the mall as easily as customers) to eat dinner, buy a couple of items, and hear mass at the nearby Shrine of The Infant Jesus. The dinner was okay. The buying of items was okay.

But there was a problem. A very big problem.

There's a storm outside and the church is 200 meters away from the mall, with nothing but vacant lot and roads between. Quite frankly if it were up to me, I'd have stayed inside the mall and let the rain stop first. It was already 645pm , the last mass was 7pm so that means just not hearing mass for that week.

When we got to the stretch of vacant lot that leads to the church, it was raining furiously already. I joked them with "Can't we just go confess about it next time?" The joke didn't sell of course. They were hellbent in braving the devil's winds.

I started complaining. It's an immutable law that the slightest of drizzles can make me feverish the following day. I complained about how I needed to go to our new office tomorrow, that I can't risk my health knowing I've heard the same gospel at least once every three years.

My two sisters didn't mind me as they started off in their own umbrella. My mom just smiled as she opened hers. She probably knew I was just making excuses because I'm too lazy for Sunday service (though I always attend anyway) We'll take the path beside the iron walls of the SMX construction site, she said, that's enough to shield us from the rain. What the hell, thought I. But I suppose I can always go to the office with or without the fever.

So I went with them.

And it was effective for a while, the walls kept the diagonal rain brought by strong bay winds from hitting us hard - at least until the wall made of galvanized roofing stopped halfway through the vacant lot. Then it was just us, the flimsy umbrellas, and the rapist-of-a-storm.

The umbrella didn't help protecting us from the rain flowing diagonally with the wind. It was coming from right to left, and I was standing at the right.

Goodbye sick leave.

Then, my mom said, "Let' switch places for a while, my arm is getting numb from holding the umbrella." I knew that wasn't the real reason. But knowing my mom, I'd rather not say anything about it.

Seriously.

She shielded me from the rain with her body knowing I absolutely must be in the office tomorrow morning, reasoning out that she wasn't getting wet, and if she did look like it, it was just that the cloth of her blouse was easy to change color with moisture (uhuh).

You should've seen it. A 22-year old guy being hugged by his mom who intentionally exposed her back against the cold rain just so her son can get to Church dry. I asked her to just let me get wet, but she just shrugged of my suggestion as she would any other discouragement she gets for doing charity.

That's one good thing about the rain, it's easy to disguise tears.

Then and there I decided. If I take a wife, I'll take a wife who can be like this to my kids - a true mother who makes goodness as natural as breathing. It's a tough requirement to fill, but far from impossible.

We celebrated mass, with my pants wet and my mom even more drenched. Funny thing though was that I haven't felt that warm in years. And though I almost hardly pray already, I made sure to thank whoever is listening for the best gift I never had to ask for.

The gift of being son to the best mother in the world.