Leave

* Part I: A reflection of the time I left home as an Overseas Filipino Worker or OFW. Filipino workforce is the number one export of the Philippines.*

It was dark. Nothing was visible. All seemed to have disappeared. Darkness enveloped everything that night. Thick. Heavy. Felt as though it was waiting to swallow me whole.

It was silent. So silent the violent hammering of my own heart was amplified in my ears. It was thumping madly, rushing back and forth with waves of different emotions, like it was struggling to escape my chest.

It was my last night. My last night in my home country — the only country I had known. I had attempted that night to recall what brought me to where I was then. I failed. My thoughts ran amok. Piles of reasons and questions seemed to pop up like mushrooms everywhere in my head. I had no clue how to stop them.

It was my last night. My last night in my home country — the only country I had known.

Why do I feel like I want to stay? Didn’t I want this?

Why do I have this piercing pain in my chest?

Calm yourself; You are doing the right thing.

Kezia, you can’t do this. This is too much for you.

Kezia, you are naive for believing you can thrive in another country.

Your family and friends are here. Why leave?

So why am I doing this again?

Abba, Father, I am afraid. Hot tears ran down my cheeks.

I was scared. Frightened to death about leaving. Terrified to the very core of my bones. Everything inside of me was panicking — wailing and willing me to stay. I didn’t breathe a word to anyone about it.

No, I wasn’t brave. Amid hysteria threatening to break loose, I felt a tiny sense of peace somewhere in me.

It was soft; I barely noticed it.

No, I wasn’t brave. Amid hysteria threatening to break loose, I felt a tiny sense of peace somewhere in me.

The screams of fears and doubts in my head almost drowned it out. They were loud and unforgiving. I would have had enough excuse to give up and not leave, but I felt it. I felt that minute peace inside of me; I couldn’t ignore it.

Abba, Father, please help me.

Nothing else I could say. No elaborate prayer for courage. I had no words left in me to articulate let alone brawn to brave this unfamiliar territory.

Abba, Father, help me. I am afraid. I am going to do this, but I am afraid. Help me.

I took the step. I left. That was ten years ago.

Abba, Father, it was You. It was Your sweet, minuscule voice lending me strength and peace so I could take the first step. You gently prodded me to leave home and to let go. You quietly encouraged my heart to trust that it was where I was supposed to be no matter how confusing it appeared to me. No, I wasn’t sure about leaving but somehow I knew I had to.

Abba, Father, thank You. You had so much in store for me. More than I could have ever conceived on my own. I would have missed all this if I didn’t listen to that soft voice — Your voice.

I would have not known You the way I do now if I didn’t leave.

Abba, Father, never ever let me stay if staying means losing a second to grow more in You. Add the audacity in me to leap as You lead me to. Yet I ask let me stay if staying means more of You.