From the moment the wheels of my Asiana Airlines plane touched down in Manila, Philippines, I was immediately struck by the change in culture. Rice, bucket showers, discovering how to ride a JeepNee, the Tagolog language, I had so much to learn. Yet one of the hidden lessons, although most impactful to my heart, was how commonly the message of “beauty” came up. One month can teach you a lot about a culture, but it taught me even more about beauty and worth.
During our first week in the Philippines, we set up a medical clinic in the small village of Bagoc in the providence of Bataan. After spending the day serving the people, I was able to walk next door to the school and encounter 17 of the most wonderful 6th grade girls. They called me “Ate Marie,” which means “older sister,” and we sang Frozen, talked about boys, named our favorite Taylor Swift songs, and then they pinky promised me that we would stay Prayer Partners. I felt like a friend, a role model, and their sister.
Yet part of our conversation broke my heart. Because the Philippines have been influenced so much by American culture, they have a desire to “fit in” and “look American.” The girls told me how much they wanted whiter skin and informed me that there were powders, pills, and even injections available, but they didn’t have enough money to purchase them yet. Never in my life had I wanted someone to believe in their beauty and dignity so much. I asked the girls to teach me how to say “You are beautiful,” and we repeated the phrase of “Maganda ka po” over and over, each time with more blushing faces and shy smiles. Regardless of the number of times I could look them in the eyes and tell them they were beautiful, it was hard to say goodbye after an hour. The media was poisoning their souls, and it was painful to watch; these girls were gorgeous.
Yet part of our conversation broke my heart. Because the Philippines have been influenced so much by American culture, they have a desire to “fit in” and “look American.” The girls told me how much they wanted whiter skin and informed me that there were powders, pills, and even injections available, but they didn’t have enough money to purchase them yet. Never in my life had I wanted someone to believe in their beauty and dignity so much. I asked the girls to teach me how to say “You are beautiful,” and we repeated the phrase of “Maganda ka po” over and over, each time with more blushing faces and shy smiles. Regardless of the number of times I could look them in the eyes and tell them they were beautiful, it was hard to say goodbye after an hour. The media was poisoning their souls, and it was painful to watch; these girls were gorgeous.
This message of beauty continued to hit me all month. I began to see Christ in others and gave not only give physical and spiritual help to others, but saw their true worth. One day I worked with two Missionary of Charity sisters to attend to the wounds of a woman named Helen. The sisters had found Helen in a mental hospital, where she had been strapped down to a wooden board and therefore had over twenty deep, painful, pressure ulcers. I was given the opportunity to not only do wound care, clean, and change bandages, but also pray over Helen. With the attitude and love the sisters gave Helen, I truly believed that I was cleaning the wounds of Christ. The world calls Helen broken, ugly and dying, but the Sisters saw the truth. They had found the dignity and the beauty in her priceless soul.
Through all the love that I learned to give out during my month, I could also learn to receive love at the same time. The 21 missionaries I lived with became my family (Disclaimer: Laura already was my family) and I saw the beauty in them every day. We were all in this together, and we grew through each struggle and success. No makeup, no technology, yet such real and rewarding conversations. We let ourselves be seen, and the friendships were so fruitful.
Beauty is so ironic when you’re traveling on mission. Bucket showers, dirty laundry, and zero makeup are definitely not the usual ingredients for the picture of beauty. I’ll be honest and say that I even meant to pack my makeup as a security blanket, but when I arrived, it was nowhere to be seen. Thank God. It was the most satisfying month I had experienced. It’s so much easier to be care for others when you aren’t worrying about what you look like instead. Our host family’s compliments weren’t trapped behind protective layers, but instead they touched the normally hidden vulnerability of my heart. There are no words to describe my month, except for that I just found the beauty so real, so genuine.
On my last day volunteering at the Missionaries of Charity’s Home for the Sick and Dying, during the last conversation I had before jumping back onto the JeepNee, I found my entire trip coming full circle. I brought an elderly woman named Carmen her lunch and I sat down to talk with her. We chatted about all the corn in Nebraska, her struggles on the street before the sisters took her in, and the little Tagolog I had learned. “Maganda ka po?” “Yes! I know that one! ‘You are beautiful!’” I said with a huge smile. I know barely enough Tagolog to pass for a 2 year old, so I felt super proud of myself. Carmen looked back at me. “No, maganda ka po,” she repeated seriously. “You have beautiful eyes and a beautiful heart; you have it all.” Just like that, the moment was over and I had to join the rest of the team, but the conversation stuck with my heart.
Beauty is a strange thing. The world tells me to find beauty in everything materialistic and everything superficial. The Philippines turned that upside down. I saw beauty in the outstretched arms of the children who had been abandoned by their parents. I saw beauty in the wrinkles on the hands on the women who gave us more than enough food. I saw beauty in calluses on the soles of the feet of the Missionaries of Charity. I saw beauty in those wonderful, kind 6th grade girls, even when they couldn’t find it in themselves. I allowed others to find beauty in me. I think beauty is something that the mirror can’t always find, but a few bucket showers and some rice sure could.
Maganda ka po. You are beautiful.
Beauty is a strange thing. The world tells me to find beauty in everything materialistic and everything superficial. The Philippines turned that upside down. I saw beauty in the outstretched arms of the children who had been abandoned by their parents. I saw beauty in the wrinkles on the hands on the women who gave us more than enough food. I saw beauty in calluses on the soles of the feet of the Missionaries of Charity. I saw beauty in those wonderful, kind 6th grade girls, even when they couldn’t find it in themselves. I allowed others to find beauty in me. I think beauty is something that the mirror can’t always find, but a few bucket showers and some rice sure could.
Maganda ka po. You are beautiful.