The Power of Love

The Mother of God, who was given to us to be our mother, too, at the last moments of His mortal life on earth, calls you….listen with your heart… When you opened this page, whether or not it was deliberate, the Blessed Virgin Mary had something very important to tell you, something that would change your life forever. Pray not to leave this site for the message she has especially for you.

But first, listen to this story because the truth it holds is testimony to the greatest power in the universe: the power of love manifested in miracles.

She called me when I did not know, at that time, how much I needed her help. Let me begin where all stories should begin…from my origins and my roots.

Both my parents were products of prominence by our country’s standards, financially and socially. They sent me to an exclusive Jesuit college where mostly the wealthy and the elite enrolled their sons. My growing-up years shaped my future wild and carefree lifestyle, ironically distant from the strict, Catholic training of the Loyola institution from where I finished high school in 1959.

On my first year in college, at the age of 17, I eloped. My wife, the daughter of another prominent family, was a pretty, young girl of 15, from an exclusive Catholic school. Before the first decade of our married life, we had six children whom we also sent to the city’s finest, exclusive colleges. Even in her youth, she already had the qualities of patience, devotion and compassion, which became the pillars of my future, colorful, roller-coaster life. Because of her, I was retrieved from simply drifting wantonly to being anchored and with a purpose. Without her strength and perseverance, I would never have found my way to the mission I was destined to fulfill. She was the wholeness of my fragments, the silent and suffering blessed half of our marriage, my soul-mate. But throughout our more than four decades of married life and to this day, we were, and have always been, on our own, independent of our parents’ support. My innate talents for persuasive entrepreneurship were my most productive assets.

My past life was a life of pleasure and a good amount of luxury with its attendant profligacy. Success was easy for me because of my talents for promotions and marketing. I could sell anything under the sun and could convince anyone to buy whatever it was I was selling. It was a career I carved out by myself, was on top of the world relishing the bounties of my expertise, and depended on no one to achieve my goals. I was not just self-made, I was comfortably self-sufficient.

Alongside the fast gains came the fast life: women, gambling, and the wild ways of hedonism. I could have any woman I wanted, and I did; could gamble on high stakes at a whim, and indulged in every conceivable worldly pleasure that I fancied. Although I remained married, my wife was left to domestic chores of caring for the family while I got away with all my indiscretions without her being aware of them. The world of pleasure became my world of indulgence and for many years I hardly went to church except when obligated for appearance’s sake. But I kept the balance between being a responsible husband and father and that of my assignations without missing out on family affairs, and it felt good…until…

By the time I was reaching 40 and the children were already finishing school, I reached some kind of a plateau in my life. The “fun” times seemed empty of meaning, the nightlife slowly simmered, and I was beginning to realize that, at the end of the day, with all the glitter and the frantic joys, the family, especially your wife, is what matters most, after all. This was not a spiritual realization. It was simply the fatigue… I had it all, and wanted more….I was still un-fulfilled. Something in my life remained a vacuum begging to be satisfied

By 1983, I began my search for a meaning, for a purpose in my life, for some direction I could hold on to for the future of my children. I got involved in what was then called, “the parliament of the streets.” These took the form of organizing rallies and marches, talking on the microphone or the bull-horn to lead the people to protest against the growing threat of martial law in our country. My name was on the roll insofar as the militants and activists were concerned. My life was also on the line.

In time, I began selling my collection of vintage cars, jewelry and other precious belongings, in order to spend for the organization of bigger street rallies and protests. More and more, my life became immersed in a cause I thought to be larger than my own life, believing that I was doing something significant for our country and our people and for the future of my children and grandchildren. My idealism surpassed my basic needs.

All these culminated in 1986 with the ouster of the dictator.

The country celebrated. The euphoria among those who led the crusade against the strongman contaminated the clique of the new powers. Everyone expected me to be highly placed in a position of power, considering the influence and the strength of the street rallies I successfully participated in. My being at the front-line of these mass actions was equivalent to a reward deserving the time, effort and money that I personally put into that cause.

Being rewarded with a position in government was never my intent. My intent was simply to be able to transact some business with these new breed of influential personalities. Employment was never in my work ethic; I simply needed the good connections for business deals. And yet, I became marginalized. I was having difficulty obtaining new transactions. The businesses I handled seemed to lose meaning and satisfaction. It seemed that whatever I had done for the past three years of street protests became part of a history that led to no meaningful purpose in my life the “higher cause” that I felt idealistic about resulted in an unpleasant feeling that the political opposition was done using me. I was no longer needed. There was no longer any value to my life.

It was the season of my severest stress. I could not understand why it was difficult to work out projects that I was happy and familiar with as in the past, when I seemed to be “well-connected” with persons of influence. For seven years, I struggled with my pride alongside the slow deterioration of my confidence in myself. For seven years, I floated in self-pity, wallowing in the vomit of my own nauseous disgust at the sorry-ness of my condition; angry at the world that owed me favor for favor and from whom I demanded repayment. For seven years, I could not even cry out to anyone for help out of sheer pride or out of the stupid ignorance to seek anyone in times of need.

It was not a financial crisis. It was a crisis of the spirit; and it was totally devastating. It affected my very existence that I began to question the reason for my being alive when nothing seemed to be of any consequence any longer.

Such was my fate and that period was the season of my worst frustrations.

The thought of turning to God for help never crossed my mind. God, and anything associated with faith, or the church, was distant from my life. Except for one item that was left to my care by my Mom, a humongous wooden image of the crucified Christ, I hardly had any intimate relationship with anything religious.

What should we do with this cross? My wife and I belabored not only its incredible size but also the impossibility of finding any place where it could be positioned in our house. It would not fit any room without having to chop off several feet off its horizontal and vertical edges and damage the symmetry and body of the image itself.

It happened that one of the projects I was tasked to work on was a reforestation project in the hinterlands. It was intended to be a livelihood project, and I designed the planting of fruit trees instead of the hardwood varieties in order to have harvested fruits ready for sale in a shorter number of years as income for the local growers. But more than just the distribution of seedlings for the tree-growing project, I formed the dwellers of the woodlands into some kind of a close community built around the project. In time, I arranged that the disposable lands in the area would be given to them and titled in their names as part of the land distribution program for open estates that did not belong to anyone and were considered properties of the state to be given to the landless.

It was hard work. I did the driving myself; the loading and the unloading of the seedlings for the fruit trees and the vegetables, the teaching methods of the planting, the inspirational talks on the reasons for engaging in such a project and the future benefits it would have for the highland inhabitants. With a handful of assistants, including my own daughters and sons, we slept in tents on the cold, damp earth; with absolutely none of even the most basic amenities or facilities we normally have in a decent home, that I wonder now at hindsight how my family was able to survive that ordeal.

Although there were still no spiritual manifestations for me at the time, the chapel which we built became the focus of our activities. It was there where the people congregated and where I would lecture for hours on the value of self-reliance, on the benefits of hard work, on the value of industry and patience.

But even as I seemed inspiring to those who listened to my words, I was, myself, slowly deteriorating in spirit and verve. My career was not at the cliff’s edge; it had fallen over the precipice and I stood there watching the pieces crumble and disintegrate. It came to such an excruciatingly painful level that my daughters offered to assist me with the daily concerns of our family life. One of them even walked three kilometers from the bus stop to our home in order to show me how much she was willing to sacrifice just so I could be helped, just so I could get out of my despair and be back to my normal, jolly, and carefree self .

It was ground zero and deeper. Here I was – a father whose life lay wasted and useless. I wanted to evaporate, to be gone, and to be taken away, to give up this kind of a life, to die. It was an empty existence even though it appeared to be helpful to the members of that community.

In practice, I was working with the poorest sector of our society. I saw the face of poverty, held its hands among the dirty fingers of the laborers, felt the ache on their backs and tasted the sweat dripping from their wrinkled skins. From amongst the quagmire of those villages, I cried out to God with my own pain. My life, so like the meaningless deprivation that surrounded me, was useless. There was no longer anything that seemed to work for me. I felt I was at the end of my cliff. I had no one else to turn to. My pride and the bull-headed influence of my zodiac sign, Taurus, compelled me further not to ask anyone for help. I was stubbornly arrogant as stubborn goes and that marginalized my ego even further.

Something in those woodlands beckoned me stay in the community. My restless soul needed a sanctuary the way these people needed a place of worship. And more, since my mother’s huge cross found a home in the chapel, the place became the repository of my lamentations.

In the wilderness, especially in the wilderness, God held my hand. From the depths of my depravity of spirit and will, when I could no longer accept the sad state of my life, when I could no longer understand the reasons for my suffering, and found no answers to the litany of questions I asked about my miserable existence, I saw God in the nameless, anonymous faces of the most impoverished of our brethren whom I was trying to help.

At the foot of the cross, nearing my 50th birthday, I cried out “Lord, if there is no more meaning in my life, take me now”.

I was aimlessly wandering for seven years, distancing myself from friends who distanced themselves from me until I avoided all kinds of social activities. I was adrift, floating without any direction, unmindful of anything in the world except my own personal grief. There seemed to be no respite for my restive inaction, until my wife coaxed me to join a “life of the spirit seminar”. Mainly, the purpose was to get me to renew a social life I had discarded because she knew that my life thrived in a community. I did.

My wife knew exactly what I needed. First, it was the spiritual healing that could come if I opened myself to the charismatic sessions. And second, there was the conviviality of the company which could give me a new start for any business I may be able to find a familiar interest in. She experienced all the years of our married life with fortitude and a great amount of faith in my potentials. When the whole world seemed to have failed me, she held on with her belief that I could overcome all problems; that I am a survivor and this, too, shall pass. Her faith in God and in me especially, was formidable and without her guiding my hand at that precarious stage, I would have fallen deeper into the abyss.

The charismatic sessions were nothing new to me since I was once a rector of the Cursillo Movement. But there was something new in the seminar which I had not experienced before. It was called the “baptism of the Holy Spirit,” and we were told to close our eyes. It was then when I saw in my mind’s eyes the terror of bodies burning without being consumed, and I heard the screams and cries of those suffering souls in hell as the session progressed. The moaning, the groaning, the agonizing were so vividly real they seemed to surround me as I stood there with my eyes closed.

Thank you, Lord, I kept on repeating. Thank you for my life. Thank you for being blessed…as I went through the ordeal of hearing the tortured souls burning while still alive.

After that experience, the first thing I did was to forgive. In attendance during that session was the man who had hurt me the most. By some strange arrangement, he was positioned in front of me. I spontaneously embraced him – he, who had caused me the severest pain a best friend could inflict at the time when I was most in need of his help and he refused me. From the depths of my soul and with the voice of my heart, I held him with both arms, pressed him close to my chest and whispered, “I forgive you,” to his ear, tears overflowing from my eyes. I was releasing myself from bitterness, from anger, from hatred, from pain…I was summoning love, opening myself to the greatest power in all of creation…LOVE, especially for those who have hurt you the most.

“Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.”

Everyone else who had wronged me became easy to forgive after that first, most difficult episode. In reciprocity, I also asked to be forgiven, by my wife, above everyone else. It was she who went through years of travail and tribulation watching me waste away our marriage, a silent witness to the abuse I had caused to myself and to our relationship; I asked forgiveness for the pain I caused my family who never understood the wildness of my ways, the children I should have attended to by moral example; my friends and relations with whom I have been harsh and mean and uncharitable; and, especially, the forgiveness from our Lord God, for all the past lives I have led defying Him, avoiding Him, and causing harm to my spirit and my soul.

“Many are called, but a few are chosen”. At this point, I offered my life and made a commitment to serve God.

In time, the “Presiding Elder” of the community had taken me to do things for him, until I was being asked to be a speaker, a prayer leader, and soon enough, I was the “darling” of the group. For a whole year, my ego was satiated with attention, with admiration, with adulation, even, as I felt that I was doing service to the community and to my God. It was ironic that I vowed to turn my back on my old life, deny my quest for power and wealth, and continue the work of speaking at seminars for the rest of my life. Yet, my ego felt otherwise; it was strangely uneasy with all the attention being given.

Each time I was asked to speak about my experience, people not only listened to my story, they cried, they wanted me to pray for them, to touch the pains and aches of their bodies and intercede for their healing, they wanted me to guide them in prayer.

I was un-schooled in theological doctrines and the catholic education I received was elementary compared to the enormity of Christian studies. All I had was a heart that was touched by the awesome majesty of a God who held my hand when I was completely alone and dejected. I asked him to take my life, to end it because it seemed not to have any purpose. Instead, He taught me how to speak His name, to speak His truth, to speak His love.

The language of the soul has its own alphabet, and it begins from the innocence we find in a child. We need not burden ourselves with the heaviness of dogmatic teachings and burdensome rituals. We only need a heart that is open, pure, and true.

“Thy will be done,” became my mantra.

“Thy will be done,” became the miracle of my life.

His will brought me for a visit to the Manaoag Church, known for Mother Mary’s image,” Our Lady of Manaoag” (Our Lady of the Holy Rosary). Was it a coincidence that it was my birthday and also her feast day when we arrived at the town? Although by habit as an Atenean, I always carried a rosary in my pocket, I was not a Marian devotee. It was simply a side-trip to the northern province where her shrine was located. But later on I realized that Mama Mary is never a side-trip. Before her image, as I knelt in ordinary prayer, she touched me.

Her touch became more pronounced when we visited the church where the image of “Our Lady Mediatrix of All Graces” was enshrined. A friend requested us to accompany her to the place because she wanted to experience the “dancing sun” phenomena.

The church was famous for the “rain of rose petals” in the late 1940’s and several miraculous events. One of the nuns, who witnessed these supernatural phenomena at that time, was at the adjacent gardens. As we approached her, she gave me a locket with a plain rose petal pressed between its glass cases. “You have a mission for Mama Mary,” she said to me, and then she went back to the convent after an exchange of a few pleasantries before we left for home. I thought of the gesture as a “gimmick,” perhaps to entice devotees to the Mother of God. Nevertheless, out of reverence, I kept the locket in one of my home drawers.

After a few weeks, I felt an urge to look at the locket. On it was imprinted the image of “Christ the King” as venerated in our churches, an imprint that was definitely not there when the locket was given to me. I did not feel any sudden spiritual surge of awe, nor did I think it rather strange that an image would appear on the locket in that manner and after the lapse of considerable time. When I showed it to the members of the community, they were stunned. They told me it was a sign, a miracle, and a supernatural manifestation.

I was still oblivious to the signs. I did wear the medal whenever I ministered to the community, to the sick, to the ailing, to the distressed. It is they who saw the rays of the sun streaming from the locket, or my face gleaming in light when I spoke, or some sense of celestial aura that they felt when they looked at the locket hanging from my neck.

Slowly, the touch of Mama Mary was penetrating my sense of being. She was a stranger to me, until then. The Mother of God seemed like a distant entity quite apart from the image of her son. My relationship with her in the past was through the rituals of the liturgy and the mechanics of memorized prayers. The rosary, although kept in my pocket, was an object of habit rather than of devotion. In truth, I hardly ever prayed the rosary at all. Only much later, as she made herself more manifest to me, did I realize that I would not be able to speak without holding the rosary, or touch the sick without the beads in my hands, or do any missionary work without first clutching the chain of roses for her guidance.

“You have a mission for Mama Mary,” the nun’s words echoed in my mind, even as I held on to the locket and my rosary. What could this mission be?

At Agoo, La Union, a town north of Manila, there were rumors of a visionary who was witnessing supernatural manifestations attributed to the Mother of God. Out of curiosity and upon the invitation of a friend, my wife and I went to the place in the early days of the so-called “apparitions.” On the day we went, a mass was celebrated at the apparition site. While we were taking our lunch, there was a commotion because the people at the locale said that the image of “Our Lady Queen of Heaven and Earth” was shedding tears of blood. I took it in stride.

We made our way to the Basilica where the image was going to be taken from the apparition site some three kilometers away. The crowd was already thick inside the church, but my wife and I were able to position ourselves along the middle aisle where the image was to pass. It was a position that, for the rest of my earthly life, I would never forget, nor exchange for anything in the world.

To the singing of the hymn, “Immaculate Mother,” she made her entrance through the portals of the Basilica, illuminated by the breath-taking brightness of the sun’s rays, shining like ribbons of gold that flowed from around her, as regal as a queen’s entrance where everyone knelt on bended knees in reverence. My Mother was entering my heart, permeating my whole being with her presence, suffusing my entire existence with a fervor so powerful that on my lips were formed the first and only words my entire life would ever say, to this day: “Yes, Mama Mary!”

I cried unabashedly.

They were tears of joy, of jubilation, of celebration. “Yes, Mama Mary!” She called, and I answered. Nothing in my entire multi-colored existence can ever approximate that moment. Nothing could ever measure up to the magnitude of that event. My mission was spelled out to me as radiantly as the sunset’s brilliance surrounded her face on that momentous afternoon in Agoo. It was along that center aisle, as she made her entrance, when I made my covenant of love with our Mama Mary.

From the center aisle, I seemed transported to the altar where her image was to be installed. People gave way as I passed through their thickness and proceeded directly to the pulpit where I began instructing the crowd on how to form themselves into an orderly line for the veneration, how to abstain from wiping the blood from the image’s face, and how to exit properly without much delay. What was I doing at the podium, and who authorized me to give those instructions?

She called me and that was the start of my mission.

After that first episode, I began organizing several trips to Agoo whenever a date for an occurrence was announced. Several manifestations were experienced through the months that we traveled to the apparition site: the dancing sun, the cloud formations that formed into a cross, the yellow rays of gold, the sparkles of light like fireflies shining despite the bright daylight, the conversion of the silver chain of my rosary turning into gold, including the figure of Christ on the rosary’s cross.

On the final day that was supposed to be the last apparition of the Blessed Virgin, close to a million people trekked to the site. Vehicular traffic was halted from Metro Manila to about two hundred fifty kilometers along the highway to Agoo. The line of cars remained unmoved from the sheer volume. People had to walk more than twenty five kilometers just to reach the site. The multitude was larger than the people power at EDSA in 1986. But the convergence of such a mass was incredibly tranquil. Everyone was either praying the rosary or singing hymns; food and water were being shared with every passer-by; smiles were on people’s faces despite the heat and the weariness.

No event could quite equal this in magnitude and solemnity.

That was a miracle of love. Only the Mother of God could have elicited such a response, and in such a beautiful manner.

“Yes, Mama Mary!”

After Agoo, she would waken me at three in the morning and flash a message in my mind’s eye, or have me hear distinct words, like: “If you were able to rally people for the country, why not do the same for me?”

Why me? I often asked.

And she would answer: “Why not you?”

But who was I? I am not credible, I argued.

Until, one day, I was invited to guest on a television show where the issue of the Agoo apparitions was being discussed. There was much ado about the authenticity of the apparitions. Among the other invited panelists were a Catholic Bishop, a Born-again Christian Pastor who held on to a Bible, a photo-journalist and myself holding on to my rosary.

The discussion was heated, quotes from the Bible were spilling out to emphasize their opinions, and the arguments on the Blessed Virgin’s manifestations led on to more questions discrediting the apparitions. I only know that my words came from my heart when, in the midst of the confusion, I told the pastor: “You talk about the Bible. For me, the Bible is the greatest love story. Why don’t we just love one another, and respect each other’s beliefs. And instead of fighting each other, we should fight our common enemy, and that’s Satan.”

The show ended with the tenor of those words.

“Now, you’re credible,” I heard Mama Mary say to me after that television appearance.

But the community I was serving began a demolition job on me. Some members wanted me to form a Mama Mary community, while the existing community where I belonged felt threatened that another organization would diminish their standing. There was bickering and professional jealousies and I felt hemmed in by the demands of one group pitted against the other. It was like the charismatic sessions all over again where enlarged egos were claiming their respective territories.

Once more, I faced a crossroad in my life, instead of reacting like a raging bull, She touched me to be meek as a lamb as She led me to another path. It was time to resign. My life was no longer mine. I had offered myself to God at a time when I had lost the earnest to work for a living for myself by force of the circumstances that caused the crisis in my life. Imagine giving up on life when you had almost everything to give up and then casting your lot on the un-known, the intangible, and the invisible dimension of working for a god. This is what has been called “the leap of faith.”

On May 6, 1993, my birthday, I launched the Mama Mary’s Movement.

Her messages came more frequently in the early hours of dawn. She would waken me from sleep at exactly three o’clock and began her inner-locutions…and at other times, they were inspirations from the Holy Spirit: flashes of words, phrases, sentences, that would suddenly come to my mind and linger there until I took note of them. They were answers to questions; ideas, even feelings – affections and inclinations that were heightened, more pronounced, with no little amount of urgency, of insistence. Always, they came in the form of thoughts, shaping my daily actions, guiding my movements, inspiring my ordinary work-day. In repose, or in prayer, in meditation or even during the busy-ness of doing regular activities, a whisper perches on the ear, gently, repeatedly, beckoning for my attention.

“Pray, pray, pray. It’s getting very late. The conversion is very slow. Bring souls to my Son….” a message repeated in her previous apparitions. And to me, particularly, she said, “Register the movement.” And true enough, the name belonged to her alone, for there was no other with that name. “Mama Mary’s Movement” was exclusively hers.

The word, “movement” was to be read as: “move men” to the Cross, symbolized by the “T”.

The battle-cry: “Mama Mary lead us to Jesus!”

The logo of the three-Ms that became the three open hearts, symbolizing the Sacred Heart of Jesus as the red heart; the blue heart as the Immaculate Heart of Mary, and the white heart, symbolizing our heart.

All these came to my mind during those hours of silence before sunrise, as in the praying of the “Hail Mary” at one o’clock every afternoon, which gave birth to this particular devotion. Why should the prayer be recited at one o’clock?

Her message to me was as vivid as my reply: Mama Mary you are our number one Mother, our number one Mediatrix. At one o’clock each day we will pray one “Hail Mary” until we are one with our Lord. Because, Mama Mary, you’re number one.

The “Seed-love Devotion” was organized. This is a simple daily devotional intercessory prayer habit at one o’clock in the afternoon, pray one Hail Mary for one another. This is the “Power of United Prayer.”

Why only one “Hail Mary?” What does this prayer contain?

For me, it is a most powerful prayer because it was a prayer given to us by God the Father when he fulfilled his promise to redeem mankind, through a woman, the Blessed Virgin Mary, as announced by the Angel Gabriel:

“Rejoice, O Highly Favored One, Rejoice! The Lord is with thee.”

The entire foundation of God’s redemption, the fundamental truth of our faith, the destruction of evil, the Immaculate Conception, and the eternal veneration of the God-man in Jesus Christ, incarnate, are all contained in these simple words of greetings. While Jesus in his ministry taught us how to pray the “Our Father,” the “Hail Mary” is a prayer put on the lips of an angel, by God the Father himself.

This was the seminar I was conducting, the Marian charismatic experience — one day with Mama Mary — which was the first and only seminar focused on the “Hail Mary” prayer. All the topics in “the life in the spirit” seminar conducted by various charismatic communities are imbedded in the “Hail Mary” prayer. We may have had close to ten thousand graduates from our seminars. But the ways of God, no matter how strange they may be to us, would always guide us well.

We were already building up another community. But the seminars still had the traces of an ego-trip. The prayer-meetings in our home that were conducted in the aftermath of the seminars increased in numbers. I, as the servant-leader, was becoming the other focus of the followers. They admired my talents of communication. They looked up to my leadership, performing certain commitments, obeying my stewardship, all in the name of service to the Lord.

Soon enough, intrigues, petty quarrels, vested interests, lack of funds, envy and jealousy and a clash of personalities all led to the erosion of the ideal. Human weakness, errors of mind and judgment and the evil that inflicts even the most pious of souls, contributed to the problems of the organization. It was difficult enough to tend to hidden agendas; it was even more difficult to decipher honest intentions and true devotion. This was clearly not her design for me.

Persecution came in many forms. Within the community that emerged from my seminars, some members wagged tongues and long tales about the financial benefits that came as a consequence of those sessions. Satan was busy weaving in and out of the minds of those who continued to create intrigue and sow dissent in order to discredit my growing popularity and leadership. A group of wives even conspired against me because I appointed their husbands in positions of influence when these women felt they were more deserving. And after the first Marian Charismatic Experience, we parted ways with the spiritual director who waived propriety and ethics by simply believing the loose gossip without giving me neither the benefit of the doubt nor the space to explain my side. There was a general perception that the Movement, and I, would not last.

Or, was it Mama Mary herself who may have wanted me to be out of that kind of community work and work on my own under her singular guidance?

For indeed, it was she who told me that she did not want a structured community dependent on its members for survival. She wanted a loose organization of volunteers and devotees. And Mama Mary said this with such clarity that I immediately knew what she wanted. She led me to an anointed charismatic priest in the person of Rev. Fr. Larry Faraon, who would become our friend, adviser, counselor, confessor, brother, most specially a member of our family and spiritual director to this day. He has given us his unconditional support and his inspiring ways give life, joy and grace to all the projects and programs of the Movement.

But how? And where do I get these devotees?

By way of preparation, perhaps, someone whom I did not know asked me to head the welcome committee and organize the preparation for the arrival of the international pilgrim-image of Our Lady of Fatima. It was an auspicious event not only because of the millions of devotees to the Blessed Virgin, but also because of the religious significance of the image itself and the blessings it carries.

I would have questioned, “Why me?” But, instead, I found myself answering, “Yes, Mama Mary,” and the welcome arrangements were undertaken without incident.

“In your weakness I will give you strength,” Mama Mary said.

And strength came with the support of the family – the most basic unit of any undertaking in our human activities. They stood by me, and with me, through all the seasons of my turbulent past. They are with me now, totally, in this continuing crusade to convert souls, to bring people to pray, to have Mama Mary lead them to the Cross of Christ. At the end of the day, when the world turns upside down, it is the family that will be there to shelter your temporal needs and care for your mortal wounds of body, mind and spirit. Remember this, because my life is testimony to this truth.

I was undaunted. By this time, Mama Mary already held my heart, and as she held my hand and led me to Jesus, up until this stage, I had no fears. As an obedient son, I had unquestionable trust in her. She whispered, “Don’t worry. I have millions of devotees. Bring me where the people are…”

Where are the people? Where do they converge? Where do we find most of them at any given time?

On her birthday in September 8, 1994, at the Rustan’s Shangri-la Mall, we planned the first, non-traditional exhibition of the Blessed Virgin’s most precious images – icons owned by the wealthiest families of the country who have either inherited those images, bought them from abroad, had them carved by the finest sculptors, or collected them as antiques and relics from our 300-years of a Spanish/Mexican religious history. The mall, after all, is traditionally, a marketplace where people converge, not just for shopping, but for idling along, carrying the luggage of their personal problems to momentarily get diversion. To bring Mama Mary into these busy, crowded areas was a revolutionary way of reminding people to pray and for the conversion of souls.

When was the last time you saw an image of Mama Mary in the mall, wherever you are presently located? What thoughts would cross your mind, should you see her there? Would you pause a while, curious about her presence? Would you approach her, perhaps, even talk to her? Would you hold her hand, maybe? Or, would you simply turn your back, walk away and ignore her?

By the time you reach reading this page…you would want to be with her a little longer….

“The Marian Exhibits” as they were called, included the finest, the most expensive and the rarest collection of Mama Mary statues, images, paintings and icons gathered together for the first time in the heart of a luxurious shopping mall, exactly where the people are, according to her wish.

It was not an easy task. But Mama Mary wanted it done. Yes, Mama Mary was all I could say.

The venue – where do I get the money to pay for the rent of the place? I was told that one of the owners was married to a friend. I called and was instantly accommodated. “Write me a letter,” he said.I hardly wrote any letters and composing one was already an ordeal. And so, I procrastinated and eventually forgot about it.

One day, I saw a small note among the heap of papers on my desk which read: “Call your friend.” He was the husband-friend of mine, married to one of the owners of Rustan’s Department Store. I called, thinking I was being reminded to make the return call by that note that no one in our house wrote nor acknowledged.

I was immediately told to come to the store and choose the place for my proposed exhibit. My wife and I, embarrassed at the profuse accommodation, chose the fourth floor “dead space” area, so to speak, where hardly many people go.

“Just bring the images,” we were told. “And we’ll take care of everything.”

And indeed, they did everything for Mama Mary in the most fabulous, extravagantly decorative way possible that truly did honor and venerate the Blessed Virgin Mother through Her various images. It was stupendously beautiful and thousands of devotees came each day to view these images.

The store set an expensive crystal vase for “donations” to help defray the expenses we incurred in renting vehicles for the transport of the images and for the security we had to hire just to watch those precious items. The vase had to be

emptied into boxes on an hourly basis because it was continuously being filled. Mama Mary helped us defray the exhibit costs, paid our previous seminar debts, and left some for the down payment of her first transport service and the purchase of several of Her life-sized images.

And then she said, “Tell the people to hold my hand, make a W.I.S.H. and expect miracles to happen….”

This meant our having to ask permission from each of the owners if they would allow their images to be held by the public. Surprisingly, they agreed. As they held her hands, Mama Mary started manifesting her loving presence. Mama Mary drew people like a magnet and more people returned to thank the Lord for answered prayers through Her powerful intercession.

People were cueing in to be able to hold Her image, some were kneeling, crying and praying in a very unlikely place like a mall. Rose petals were also being given away to the people as a momento of their visit. Quite a number of those who received them gave testimony that their petals registered imprints of different images – some had the crucifix embossed, some had the image of Our Lady of Manaoag, others had imprints of the Holy Family, and still others had the image of the Holy Face of Turin.

The intent of the Marian Exhibit was to bring spirituality and prayer to the “marketplace,” to the most number of people, the busiest centers of activity. Her presence also blessed the establishment with an increase in sales. The period of the exhibit was extended.

Other shopping centers likewise requested for the exhibit to be held at their malls, but that would be abusing the kindness of the image-owners and may eventually cause damage to the precious icons. Instead we decided to set up the replicas of Mama Mary’s images in all the shopping centers and establishments where She was invited. To this day, we have thousands of devotees pausing to say a prayer, make a W.I.S.H. and touch the hand of Mama Mary as She smiles at them wherever they are. The “Seed-love Devotion” was also propagated by the “flyers” that were handed out at these public places of prayer.

Because of our installation of the image of Mama Mary in these malls, we organized the celebration of a weekly Saturday anticipated mass. This is now a practice in most shopping areas throughout the Metro Manila area. We also initiated the “Misa de Gallo” from December 16th to the 24th of Advent, commemorated in the evenings after office hours instead of the usual dawn novena masses, for a greater number of the working sector to participate in this pre-Christmas tradition.

After the Marian Exhibits, we brought the pilgrim image of Mama Mary to various government institutions, private offices, homes and schools. During these pilgrim visits, the charism of the Movement was being unveiled through the Healing Sessions we were simultaneously conducting.

Yes, Mama Mary. We have saturated Metro Manila with your loving presence for the conversion of souls to Your Son Jesus.

“Bring me to the provinces,” Mama Mary beckoned.

From the simple prayer of the “Hail Mary,” the movement traveled. I could visualize our trips to the provinces, the throngs of people that would gather to meet her, the number of sick that would be touched and healed, and the thousands that would be inspired to be her devotees.

Listen to the signs. The voice of the Holy Spirit comes to us from the most unexpected places. God speaks from the sounds of other people’s cries and only with our hearts can we truly hear.

Thus, in 1995, we began the visit of the Pilgrim Image of Our Lady of Manaoag, commonly known as the Marian Pilgrimages. Left alone by the seminar-group, we gathered the out-of-school-youth to assist us in our sojourn to the provinces. A comfortable stipend went a long way with these young people who served Mama Mary in our provincial trips.

For the first time, again, in a non-traditional manner, the image of Mama Mary was brought directly to the seat of power…the center of the local political authority … the municipal halls, provincial capitols which was opened to everyone regardless of race, color or creed and not to the church. The conversion of souls begins not in the places of worship.

The streets would be lined with people welcoming her arrival and people took off their hats, made the sign of the cross, and even genuflected, as her image passed the route of her entrance procession. The mayor led the people for the “salubong,” the welcome of Mama Mary had all the flairs with all the fireworks, sirens, brass bands playing as She was paraded around the locale. The whole town was united for the event, and the mayors exclaimed that they felt the presence of Mama Mary more as an honor for them, even as they gave her the honor.

For nine consecutive days, the different local organizations kept vigil before her image – the different barangays, the local police force, every association and organization in the locality, department heads of the local government, the Knights of Columbus, the Jaycees, the Lions Club, the Rotarians, the Catholic Women’s League, Legion of Mary and so forth. Mama Mary’s image radiated throughout the town, all the way to the barrios and the sitios. Her presence permeated every corner of the community, that for the nine days of her visit and thereafter, she was honored and venerated as Queen, the Mother of God, our Mediatrix to Jesus.

These are the ordinary folks living their ordinary lives. They eke out their living in the rural areas where survival is a matter of a daily struggle – not only with the elements of nature like typhoons, floods, sweltering summer heat, arid fields or overflowing rivers, but also with the harsh realities of apathy and indifference. And yet, from the warmth of their greetings and the fervor of their devotions, I felt the overpowering majesty of a God that looks kindly on all, especially those uncared for and forgotten. From the chanting and the songs of these rural folk, the heavens open with blessings, and every town and city we visited was a humbling experience.

We walked in the mud, under the heat of the sun, the pouring rain, up and down hilly terrain, along stinking canals, dump sites, squatter areas …to reach out to the people, and she, Mama Mary, was with us all along those trails, giving us strength to walk one more mile and another and another until the last barangay has been reached. I learned the virtues of Mama Mary, humility, obedience and love, through the daily contacts we had with the people.

The Gift of Healing was transfused through me to those who needed the touch of God as we conducted “wish and healing” sessions in all the places where we brought the Pilgrim Image of Our Lady. The response of the people to the “wish and healing sessions” was overwhelming. The venue where we conducted the session would overflow with the hundreds desiring to be healed were healed and wishes were granted by the Lord through the powerful intercession of Mama Mary. Never in my wildest dream did I think that I will be used as an instrument of God for healing.

In my old life, I would not imagine going through these ordeals, perhaps it was another phase of my cleansing which gave more meaning and fulfillment to my life.

We slept wherever we could, under the trees, on the hard floors, in crowded, smelly places, and we were like children enjoying every minute of the experience. Despite the sometimes unsanitary environs during some of our travels, the contagious diseases we touched, the epidermal aberrations and un-clean bodies, including the hectic pace and oftentimes irregular eating schedules, and missed meals, despite all these, we never got sick nor contracted any illness.

Yes, Mama Mary, thank you for taking us there. Your children were healed – the devils were cast out from their souls, the sickness vanished from their bodies, their pains assuaged…a thousand miracles and more were revealed in the Mighty Name of Jesus through your intercession and the people praised the heavens in thanksgiving. Love was the single, most important element that poured on us all. Love was the fuel in our dwindling gas tanks. Love was the food on our tables. Love was the energy during our tiring days. Love was the umbrella that shielded us from harm.

It was here that I recalled the miracle at the wedding at Cana, the first miracle of Christ. “Do as he tells you,” she told the servants, and the water in the vessels was converted into the finest wines. Even if it is not yet his time for his public ministry, the Lord could not refuse her.

Therefore, whatever Mama Mary would intercede for us, even if it is not yet time, the Lord would not refuse her. Here we were, at the verge of a new venture, in the midst of our crusade for conversation, at the initial stages of the Mama Mary’s Movement, and miracles were happening as manifestations of God’s love. We must have covered close to half a million kilometers.

But our work seemed not enough. “If you follow Me, pick up your cross.” Sacrifices and crosses come hand in hand in our spiritual cleansing. As we carry the crosses of our lives, like Jesus, we will stumble and fall. It is not the number of times we fall, but rather how often we stand and continue our mission, believing that Jesus will never forsake us through the powerful intercession of Mama Mary.

Simultaneously, we initiated and catalyzed a litany of other tributes to Mama Mary as her legacy: We celebrated her feast day, her birthday, and all the other special events which were aired on television.

May 6, 1993 Mother’s Day … Mama Mary’s Movement began … One Day with Mama Mary, Marian Charismatic Seminar

August 15, 1994 MIRACLEFEST, Araneta Coliseum

Gathering of various Mama Mary images who have manifested miracles and apparitions to their owners and families … a special tribute to Mama Mary through dances and songs

Start of SEED-LOVE DEVOTION … airing over Channel 5 at 1pm

September 8, 1994 Marian Exhibits started at the Rustan’s Tower, Shangri-la Mall

SM MegaMall, Rustan’s Cubao, SM Sta. Mesa, SM SouthMall Ali Mall Cubao, Robinsons Galleria, Harrison Plaza, Waltermart Calamba, Target Mall (Sta. Rosa), Ever Gotesco Commonwealth,

Government Institutions: GSIS, NBI, BIR, NBI, CID, BOC, OWWA, ECC, TESDA, Manila City Hall, Quezon City Hall, Pasay City Hall, Las Pinas City Hall, Muntinlupa City Hall, Makati City Hall, Valenzuela City Hall, Mandaluyong City Hall and City Jail, POEA, SSS, DENR, DAR, RPN Channel 9, New Bilibid Prison,

Private Establishment/Offices: PAL, DHL, Manilabank, Cocolife, MERALCO, Nancy Harel & Associates,

Presently Festival SuperMall, Glorietta, Atrium of Makati, Clark Interiors Pampanga, Tutuban Shopping Center, Ever Gotesco Grand Central, Duty Free Phils. FiestaMall, Lopue’s East (Bacolod), Waltermart Sta. Rosa,

January 1995 Mama Mary’s Provincial Tour … Mama Mary’s pilgrim images were brought to the different provinces, provincial capitols and municipal halls.

March 1996 Mama Mary’s image landed in Iloilo

July 1997 Mama Mary’s image landed in Bacolod, Negros Occidental

September 1997 MIRACLEFEST, Bacolod Convention Center and Iloilo … a night of praise and worship

September 1998 Mama Mary’s Birthday Celebration … Marikina Riverbanks … a special birthday celebration with a Marian exhibit and culminates with a Birthday Mass

December 1998 HANDOG KAY MARIA … Luneta Grandstand … A Celebration of Mama Mary’s Feast day, Her Immaculate Concepcion. A Marian Healing was aired over television

September 1999 Mama Mary’s Birthday Celebration … Mass at the Makati Park and a motorcade of Mama Mary’s images through Buendia and Ayala Avenue culminating a Birthday Mass and shower of confetti at the Atrium of Makati

December 1999 M.O.M. and M.O.D.E.L. AWARDS, Kalayaan Hall, Malacanang … Mama Mary’s Movement paid tribute to the Philippines Model Marian Men and Women for their achievements in propagating Mama Mary’s virtues in their different professions

January 2000 TIERRA DE MARIA, Tagaytay City

2000 – 2006 Mary at the Foot of the Cross Lenten Celebration, Tierra de Maria, Tagaytay City

2000 – 2006 Happy Birthday Mama Mary Celebration, September, Tierra de Maria, Tagaytay City

2000 – 2006 Merry MARY Christmas Celebration, December, Tierra de Maria, Tagaytay City

Like a typical mother, Mama Mary always provided exactly enough funds for every project to succeed. It was a constant struggle. After each successful one day event, the question comes to my heart “what’s next Mama Mary?”

But it still was not enough. Mama Mary further strengthened my covenant of love and commitment to serve Jesus, through the financial blessings my wife and I received in the form of inheritance and the fruits of our own personal labor.

We were like gypsies, in a way; like tumble weeds blowing in the wind – one time in one place, and then, at another. We had our domestic home, but the devotion to Mama Mary needed one, too. She told me, “Build me an image that will serve as a perpetual legacy for all generations to come.”

Tagaytay had always been a wish. The place contained the synergistic convergence of earth, wind, fire and water, the primal elements of the universe. Something about the high ground had the attraction of an environment for a place of worship, a sanctuary, and a haven where people who asked for my counsel, prayers and intercessions could be accommodated without the hassle of city-noise.

On January 1, 2000, the Jubilee Year, the start of Mary’s millennium, we built Tierra de Maria (the Land of Mary). I was approaching my 60th year and the provincial travels were taking its toll on my health. It was getting quite tedious having to drive several kilometers out of town, encamping in strange although hospitable places, skipping meals because of a busy schedule, and staying on one’s feet for long hours of lectures or healing sessions. Besides, people were urging us to set up a place where they could pray, seek assistance for healing, and do some meditation.

The construction can be rightly called, “a miracle of faith” because we barely had sufficient funds when we began. We knew we would be spending a few million pesos, but this never became a deterrent; neither did the fact that we had no support from any source outside ourselves.

But Mama Mary led the way.

The “miracle of faith” began with a “wish granted” through an agreement with the Tagaytay City Government for the land on which the 50-foot Mama Mary image was to be constructed. The sculptor, Dr. Ton Raymundo, donated his talents by carving out a 30-inch scale model. The crown, the hair, the face, the hands and the heart of the Blessed Virgin were pre-fabricated separately and installed one piece at a time. At a party, we met a young contractor whose initial hesitancy was overpowered by the urging of his mother. “You can do it,” she prodded him and when he finally agreed, he even used his credit line to pay for the materials and the labor until we could catch up with the raising of funds.

Other sources of funds came from a multitude of anonymous people who dropped coins and loose change in the “love cans” that we set up in some department stores and the National Book Store counters. We had some savings from special events that were simultaneously being undertaken, but these were not enough. Every week, we had to raise the amounts needed for the labor and the materials. We set up more special projects – mostly advertisements in our souvenir programs, the way I used to manage special events as a promoter. Some assistance came in the form of donated materials, like the tiles and ceramic fixtures. And successfully, I was able to get a number of advertisers from the private and public sectors. When the payment for the contractor was due, an old debt was repaid through a donation of the exact amount of his billing.

And finally, the huge Cross of my Mom that I took to the forest chapel, was brought to Tierra de Maria for its final home, together with the bigger-than-life statue of “Our Lady of Guadalupe” that was given to me by a complete stranger, whose name and face I cannot now remember, while I sat at the Rustan’s Department Store watching the Marian Exhibits.

Blood, sweat, tears and thousands of “Hail Mary” prayers were the largest ingredients that went into the building of Tierra de Maria. Mama Mary interceded for us to her carpenter-Son who became our master-builder.

Today, Tierra de Maria is her HOME, her Haven of Meditation and Enrichment, home of the 50-ft. image of the Mother of God, Queen of Heaven and Earth. Within this home, we have the Inner Peace Healing Center – a prayer room where you directly communicate with Mama Mary and the crucified Christ; a deck-view of the world’s smallest volcano within a volcano’s lake, Taal, and a place for meditation above the noise and hassle of the city; and the 20-mystery rosary garden at the entrance together with the Stations of the Cross.

In the beginning, the eldest and the youngest of the children were the first to assist in the movement. Soon after, the entire family, except one daughter who is abroad, including the seven grandchildren and one great-granddaughter, became part of this ministry. They spend their weekends at Tierra de Maria and help out with the services – the mass and the healing sessions, the brief lectures and the other devotions to Mary. The movement became as strong as the family gathered strength, too, in individual and collective ways. The gift of grace converged within the sanctuary and radiates now to every person who visits.

Here, my wife and I are willing and happy prisoners of God’s and Mama Mary’s love. We are bound to serve them in consecrated devotion. Here is where we have found both peace of mind and peace of heart. Tierra de Maria is the cornerstone of the movement, and against the terrors of non-believers, and the ravages of denunciations, the tribute stands as a formidable testimony to the miracle of faith, the miracle of salvation, and the miracle of love.

Here lies faith, and hope, and above all, love.

Beyond the physical structure, it is the sanctuary of your soul where the weary spirit comes to seek rest, where the body un-burdens its illness and pains, where the traveler seeks guidance, and where every heart finds refuge from the confusion and conflicts of life.

But it seems not enough….

My vision is to have Mama Mary honored and venerated in as many places as possible and by as many people as can be gathered for her Son. In all our provincial trips, the city of Bacolod in the southern island-province of Negros Occidental, beckoned with their special devotion to Mama Mary. It was there where we witnessed numerous miraculous healings and where we were made their adopted family instantly. The request of the devotees in Bacolod came at a time when my wife was scheduled to undergo surgery. I promised Mama Mary that after the surgery, I would build another tribute for her in Bacolod similar to Tierra de Maria in Tagaytay..

But where in Bacolod?

The local residents could not find a place that would be ideal for Mama Mary. One day, a friend came to visit us in Tagaytay and in the course of our conversation I mentioned my dream of building as many tributes to Mama Mary as I can throughout the country, such as in Los Banos, in Baguio City, in Bacolod and several other places where several people have actually offered land donations. When she heard Bacolod, she immediately called her relatives and informed them of our plans. She said we could now go back to Bacolod and check if the place they have would meet our expectations. We did as we were told. The place was ideal and soon thereafter, the 5,000 square meter lot was donated for another Tierra de Maria in Bacolod.

Thank you, Mama Mary, I prayed. Miracles are, indeed, manifestations of love. This was another example of the gift of faith. Believe in the greatest power of the universe, and through the intercession of Mama Mary, nothing is impossible. I was moving into the world of celestial phenomena. But then again, where do I get the funds for Bacolod?

Mama Mary inspired me to set up the Liturgical Calendar which works this way: Every person’s birthday falls on a saint’s feast day. They would then choose their favorite title of Mary Our Mother (MOM). For a set fee, one person’s name is permanently inscribed on a special kind of ceramic tile that is glued to the walls of Tierra de Maria together with the desired date and the chosen Image of Mama Mary. This entitles the devotee to the following graces: (1) the special one o’clock “Hail Mary” prayer; (2) a daily prayer offered perpetually (3) the offering of the Holy Eucharist every first Saturday of the month; and, (4) the recuerdo of one’s name on the Liturgical Calendar for as long as Tierra de Maria stands as part of its legacy. A special family tile for an additional fee is offered to those who would like the names of their entire family inscribed on the Liturgical Calendar.

The Liturgical Calendar was an instant success and hundreds of Mary devotees registered with their contributions to be a part of this legacy. Mama Mary’s Tribute in Bacolod was another fulfilled miracle and her image now smiles at her devotees from that province. The place is called “Talan-awon ni Maria,” in the local dialect, meaning, “the view of Mary,” a most appropriate description of the horizon from her 50-foot height.

But it is not enough….We should have more Tierras de Maria, throughout the country, throughout the world.

Because Tierra de Maria is also your home, and when you opened to this page, Mama Mary welcomed you in as she now speaks to you. Listen with your heart.

My story is your story…I have shared it with you with the hope and the prayer that you will be a Marian devotee by listening to the inner voice within your heart. Through all these years of the Movement, I continue to experience a constant cleansing of mind, spirit, soul and heart; a constant humbling of the self; a persistent need to offer more of myself, totally and without reservations; a daily renewal of a commitment to evangelize and be an instrument of God’s mercy to those in need.

S. M. I. L. E. Serving Mary Is a Loving Experience.

Remember, when you opened this page, Mama Mary called you.

She now reaches out to the world, and to you, in particular, wherever you are located…First, come and join us in our mission to convert more souls. Join us in bringing the world to Christ through Mama Mary’s intercession. Join us in our pilgrimage through this earthly voyage. Say, “Yes Mama Mary”…. Join us by signing in on the Form below and sending this back to us. You then become our partners in the building of your dreams. We would like to share with you the beauty of a life with Mama Mary leading us to Jesus.

Bro. Jiggers G. Alejandrino and Sis. Marivi E. Alejandrino
Mama Mary’s Movement Founder and Co-Founder