In the early Sunday morning, I was running a long distance along the Shaker Lakes. The weather was pretty although my legs got tired after an hour run. When I was about to cross the street, two cars were passing. As usual, I slowed down and yet did not stop completely, expecting the cars pass by me and then continue to run. The first car did, but the second stopped suddenly. A woman in the car yelled at me, "F*** you, A** H***! Are you going to be hit?" She gave me a mean look and drove away. I was sure that it was the last thing I wanted to do that being hit by a car driven by a cranky woman. In that short time, I was embarrassed, confused, and insulted, not knowing how to respond to it. I just slightly smiled at her, raising my right hand as if conducting the orchestra. I wanted to show my innocence, but she was gone.

During the next an hour run, I thought the situation and what I did. It was funny first of all. On the Sunday, a priest was called by A** H*** with F bomb. Secondly, I was sorry to her whose heart would be more damaged than mine by saying those words because they did not touch me at all. It was pointless and lifeless words that I did not want to choose to keep for me. Instead, I prayed for her peace, inner peace that stays and shapes words and deeds.

St. Teresa of Avila said, "Let nothing disturb you; let nothing dismay you; all thing pass; God never changes. Patience attains all that it strives for. He who has God finds he lacks nothing; God alone suffices." I was glad not to react out of frustration or anger. Rather, I was at peace, so that I was able to pray for her. In the end, it is a matter of choice to be real or not. I was real to be with God's peace instead of human's weakness. The power of choice surprised me as an unexpected gift in the early Sunday morning.

Everywhere in Africa are trees. It is a part of life. In the burning sun, people sit under the tree and find shades and rest. Students learn under the tree; village meetings take place under the tree. It is the center of life in Africa.

Old in Africa are trees that wistness to sad, joyful, meaningful moments of the community. It seems to stand strong not to yield to the suffering and violence. It is quietly there and yet become a part of history. I often touch the trees, trying to feel it. It seems to tell the stories that happened long time ago and still linger in the people’s life. Trees witness to the history of the community in Africa.

Fruitful in Africa are trees that give so much fruit to feed people—banana, mango, paw paw, etc. People drink fruit juices—pineapple, passion fruit, organge, etc—and eat fruit as their staple. For instance, Ugndans eat everyday Matokee that is a smashed banana. Trees nurture people in Africa.

Useful in Africa are trees that provide necessities for people. Africans cook meals by burning branches that warm the house as well. They build the house with trees. Trees are tables, fences, beds, and arts. The decoration of the church is usually done with wooden arts—gorgeous wooden altars, ambors and tabernacles. Trees express African life.

With Dr. Monique and Sr. Rosemary, I went to Atiak the northern city three hours away from Gulu. The village has been suffering from civil war, drought, and femine last twenty years. However, since peace settled in several years ago, the village started growing. Nevertheless, the children are still in trouble because of malnurition and bad sanitation. Dr. Monique with the help of Sr. Rosemary has founded Tree of Wisdom the nonprofit organization that supports the children through a donation of $175 per year to provide a specific child with basic health care, food, clothing and hope for a future. It was Dr. Monique’s second visit since Tree of Wisdom launched in 2009. About hundred children and guardians gather under the tree in the center of the community. The tree seems to embrace the gathering as a loving mother. Dr. Monique said that the children were very different a year ago—sick and sad. But, on that day, I encountered joyful and life-filled children who sang, played and ran around the tree.

How often do I look up the trees, admiring its height, size and variety of shapes! I touch the trees and talk to them, asking them to share its life and wisdom. I climb the trees to look at people and villages from the different perspective. Trees are one of the greatest creatures in the world. Redwood I met in San Francisco lives more than two thousand years. It can contain the whole history of Christianity! I touched the redwood, trying to feel its life as well.

Everywhere in Africa is tree of life. It feeds and nurtures Africans and gives itself to be used to the end. What the trees become is nothing but loving. Growing and bearing fruits for people and giving shades and rest for them are similar to my vocation. As a priest, I want to grow and bear good fruit for the people of God. And if God allows, I am willing to being used to the end like the tree of life.

Listening to a high-tone song outside, I am standing in the sacristy. It has been five years since I came to the Missionary of Charity in Antsirabe. Now I am about to celebrate the Sunday mass for the sisters and brothers. Some orphans join as well.

Mixed emotions come up: delight to be a part of the community as well as gratitude to come back as a priest. Everything seems not to change although the orphans have grown and the sisters have left. Two sisters thankfully recognize me.

I preach ‘being sent out’ as Jesus’ apostles. Life is a series of being sent out from birth to death because we all were sent out from our mother’s womb and will be asked to be finally sent out to death in the end. During the time on earth, we experience many being-sent-outs. To me, the experience in Antsirabe was a call within call to be sent out from what I felt comfortable.

Five years ago, I was a seminarian who were willing to giving himself up to be a priest. It was obvious that I wanted to be a priest. But I did not know what kind of priest I wanted to be and how I could serve God and His people. The trip to Madagascar was the answer.

Initially I was shocked by the country’s poverty and injustice. Malagasy were suffering from malnurition and violence. I was angry at God for inequality. However, it was also my frustration not to be able to ‘fix’ the problem. I was challenged to accept God’s providence and Jesus’ promise not to leave us orphaned in the midst of the suffering. Slowly I understood that hope dwells among people whether they are rich or poor, not in materials nor convenience. In the end, it is only hope that the divine Jesus humbled himself to share in our humanity.

I have come to share the same humanity and to offer the sacrifice up as a member of the priestly people. I feel home and know that the celebration will be unforgettable. The Missionary sisters delight to know that someone remembers them and my presence speaks loudly of it.

Remembering is the essence of priesthood. Not to forget the poor is the heart of being Jesus’ friend. So coming back is my way of living the promise to be a conscious priest and the people in Madagascar widely open their both arms again. During the travel, I have realized again and again I become fully what I am when I celebrate the mass with people. I have witnessed to becoming one in the breaking of the bread. There are no division between the rich and the poor and the giver and the receiver. We are all brothers and sisters in Christ. It is my humble experience of being a priest to serve them. So how heartfelt for me to come to see my people in Madagascar!