"The Coming of Christ" I offer to him the Anointing Oil I made my own Succeed! 🙂

Today started earlier than usual – I woke up at 4 AM and went for holy mass, that time half way of the mass I realize the person who donate half dozen of eggs and think about bunch of anointing oil/cream at home. I decided to donate some of it 10 pieces of anointing cream, 2 bottle 150ml Extra Virgin Olive Anointing oil, 3 boxes of Anointing olive oil same that I sell on my website. I went to church again around 4:30 AM all I need for donations ready on my hands, and a Divine Mercy stampita that was blessed by a priest from Quiapo Church during the Black Nazarene feast last January. Next to the box lay the church’s donation envelope, which I’d carefully sealed with 100 pesos inside – all I could spare this month, but I knew every peso counts in God’s eyes.

At church ( Heart of Jesus and Mary parish ) I felt calm yet intense heart palpitations not sure what it is. I’d been putting this visit off for so long, telling myself I’d wait for a “better time” or until I felt “more ready.” But this morning, as I knelt by my bed to pray before leaving, I heard a quiet voice in my heart saying “Today is the day.” So I washed my face, dressed in my simplest pink blouse . At morning mass I remembered the priest wear pink cloth it says it a symbolisms of " The coming of Christ " and I put on my pants, I packed everything into my bag. The ride was bumpy, as always here in the Philippines, but I barely noticed – my mind was racing with so many thoughts, wondering if I was doing this right, if the priests would accept what I was bringing, if I’d be able to stay through the whole mass without feeling overwhelmed.

When I arrived at the church, the morning sun was already streaming through the stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the marble floors. There were already quite a few people inside, some kneeling in prayer, others finding their seats. I chose a spot near the middle aisle – not too close to the altar that I’d feel self-conscious, but not too far that I’d miss anything. I placed my bag on the chair beside me, keeping my hand on it as if holding onto a lifeline. As the mass began and the choir started singing “Panginoon, Ikaw ang Aking Buhay,” I felt a warmth spread through my chest, but it was quickly followed by a wave of intense fear that hit me so hard I could barely breathe.

My heart started trembling so fast I thought it might jump out of my chest. My palms were slick with sweat, and I could feel my hands shaking as I clutched the edge of the pew. This was my first time doing anything like this – donating sacred items to the church, not just money or food. I’d always been a faithful Catholic, but I’d never had the courage to approach the altar with offerings beyond what was expected during collection. For a moment, I wanted to stand up and run out the door, to grab my bag and go home where I’d feel safe and hidden. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the priest’s words as he began the opening prayers, but all I could hear was the loud thumping of my own heart in my ears.

As the mass moved into its middle part, the ushers started preparing for the offering procession, and I saw people beginning to line up near the center aisle with their envelopes and gifts. My legs felt heavy, but something inside me pushed me to stand up and join the line. I took the box and the envelope from my bag, holding them tightly against my chest as I waited with the others. As we started walking slowly toward the altar, something shifted – the fear that had gripped me so tightly began to loosen its hold, and even though my heart was still beating fast, I felt an unexpected sense of calm wash over me.

My mind went completely blank – there were no more worries, no more doubts, no more thoughts about whether I was good enough or if what I was doing mattered. The only thing that filled my head, the only thing I could focus on, was the simple desire to give these items to the church, to offer them up as a sign of my faith and gratitude for all the blessings God has given me and my family. I watched as the people in front of me placed their offerings on the altar, and when it was finally my turn, I carefully set down the box and slipped the envelope into the collection basket. The priest smiled at me and said “May God bless your generosity, my child,” and in that moment, tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

I made my way back to my seat just as the priest began his homily. He spoke about the story of the blind man who was healed by Jesus – how the man had faith even when he couldn’t see, how he called out to Jesus despite being told to be quiet, how he trusted that Jesus could make him whole again. As I listened, I realized that’s exactly how I’d felt today – like someone who couldn’t see the path ahead, but still had the faith to reach out and take the first step. The priest said that sometimes we’re afraid to act on our faith because we don’t know what will happen, but that true faith means moving forward even when our hearts are trembling.

After the final blessing and the closing hymn, I stayed in my seat for a few more minutes, saying a quiet prayer of thanks. When I finally stood up to leave, I felt lighter than I had in months – as if a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying had been lifted from my shoulders. The jeepney ride home felt different this time too; the sun seemed brighter, the people around me seemed kinder, and I found myself humming along to the song playing on the driver’s radio. I know this might seem like a small thing to some, but for me, today was a moment I’ll never forget – the day I found the courage to bring my heart, along with my offerings, back to the church that has always been my home.

Until Next Time,

Yuna