The church was called Baclaran, one of the largest and most popular cathedrals in Manila. Outside, vendors sold fresh, white-flower leis that smelled like gardenias and honeysuckle. My grandfather bought a few and said I could give them to Jesus, the Virgin Mother Mary, and other saints. In the Philippines, in this church, worshippers were allowed to climb up to the life-size figurines and lei them. I remember I took a great deal of care to assign each lei to the right recipient; Jesus would get the prettiest. From the paintings I’ve seen, especially the one with his heart radiating from his chest, he looked like the kind of person who would appreciate pretty things. He, himself, had rosy cheeks, red lips, long curly locks, and I wanted to look like him.

After I was done dressing Jesus, the Virgin Mother, and the other saints, I couldn’t help think that it wasn’t enough — especially for Jesus. What could I possible give to the man who suffered and died for my sins?          

I followed Grandpa Noel into the cathedral, to the rows of wooden pews, and like him, I knelt on the knee-cushion, closed my eyes tightly, and thought about how my grandfather would speed-mumble through words before the crucifix in his bedroom. I figured that this was how one ought to pray — quickly and without stumbling over words. And so as I prayed on the pews that afternoon, my lips would move faster with each breath until I could feel air lightly whiffing against my tongue. When I tripped over words, I would delete them from my mind by moving my eyes back and forth, left to right, and start over. I felt holy that day.

That year, I decided I’d become a nun. I wanted to wear the habit, the robe, the rosary. I told my mother and she enrolled me in Catholic school. Strangely, my mother wasn’t bothered that I didn’t ask to join the Buddhist monastery. “It’s the same thing,” she said. “When you are ready and if you are good, then God will pick you. So be good.” Catholic or Buddhist, she only cared that I wanted to devote my life to a god. As far as she was concerned, she had fulfilled her debt, her promise to protect me and steer me toward the divine. Besides, we were now living in the Philippines — nowhere near Vietnam, and her mother.