When we listen to that Gospel, it is very striking that Mary’s first reaction is not to say “No,” but to say, “How can this be…?” It is a simple question, but it opens a very deep doorway into faith, humility, and human freedom. Mary does not argue, bargain, or run away. She also does not pretend to understand everything. She simply says, in effect: “Lord, I don’t see how this is possible in my situation… but I am open. Show me how.” That is very different from resistance. Resistance says: “I don’t want this.” Pride says: “I know better.” Fear says: “I must stay in control.” Mary’s question says: “I don’t understand, but I am willing.” Her words hold together two important things: honesty and surrender. She is honest about her reality (“I have no husband”), and at the same time she is willing to surrender to God’s plan. She does not suppress her question, but she does not let the question become an excuse to close her heart. In our daily life, this is exactly where we often struggle. Life brings news we did not expect: illness, change, responsibility, a new path, a hard decision, a quiet invitation to grow. Inside, we also have our version of Mary’s question: “How can this be? I don’t have enough strength. I don’t have the right background. I don’t have the time, the money, the energy.” Many times our first reaction is either to escape, or to shut down, or to become bitter. Mary shows another way: to bring our real situation in front of God and stay open. Her question is not a wall; it is a door. It is the door through which God’s grace enters. And then comes her second response, the one that completes the first: “Let it be done to me according to your word.” This is not a passive sentence. It is the most active thing she could say. She makes a free choice. God does not force her. She could have refused. Instead, she uses her freedom to align her will with God’s will, even without seeing the full picture. This is “acceptance” in the deepest sense: not giving up in defeat, but saying a humble yes to God’s work in us, even when we don’t understand everything.

As we come to the second candle of Advent, I’ve been thinking a lot about peace, not the big kind we wish for the world, but the quiet peace God puts in the heart. During my visit today, I met one of the residents who always receives Holy Communion. When I asked how she was, the first thing she said was, “I have surrendered everything to Him.”There was something about the way she said it… calm, steady, honest. It touched me. We ended up having a really good chat. We talked about how letting go and trusting God brings a different kind of peace. Not because life suddenly becomes easy, but because we stop carrying everything by ourselves. When we accept that God’s way is different and better, something inside becomes lighter. I felt that myself while talking to her. Moments like these remind me why I do this work. Peace doesn’t come from long explanations or big solutions. Sometimes it comes from a quiet visit, a simple prayer, or a conversation that opens the heart. God uses these ordinary moments to remind us He is close. This week’s candle invites us to bring that same peace to others, slowly, gently, in small ways. A bit of kindness. A listening ear. A calm presence. These little things really matter. Prayer Lord, give peace to anyone who is struggling right now. Teach us to surrender our worries to you. Help us bring calm, kindness, and comfort wherever we go. And guide those who feel afraid or unsettled today. As this candle burns, may it remind us that even in the middle of everything, God is near, and His peace is real.

Discover the deep meaning behind the four Advent candles—Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. Each candle reminds us how God’s light enters our lives, even in the middle of challenges, waiting, and uncertainty. In this short reflection, we explore: Hope - trusting God even when the path is unclear Peace - finding calm in God’s presence Joy - a joy that stays even on difficult days Love - God’s unconditional love revealed in Christmas May these candles guide your heart as we prepare for the coming of Christ, the true light of the world. Blessed Advent to you and your family.

There is a line from Dietrich Bonhoeffer that has stayed with me throughout my chaplaincy journey: “When we stop listening to people, we stop listening to God.” I did not fully understand this before, but the more time I spend in the hospital, and even in my car when transporting seafarers, the more I realise it is true in the simplest and deepest way. In the hospital, people often speak from a place of fear, confusion, or exhaustion. Sometimes they do not even need answers; they simply need someone who will not hurry them. When I sit beside a patient and really listen, not to reply, but to understand, something shifts in the room. Their breathing slows. Their eyes soften. The tension drops. And in that quiet moment, I feel that I am not only listening to their words but to the movement of God within their story. It is in those moments that I understand what Bonhoeffer meant: listening itself becomes a form of prayer. The same thing happens when I drive seafarers to the airport. Many of them have been at sea for months. Life onboard does not always give space for honest conversation. Yet for some reason, inside the car, where there are no uniforms, no ranks, no pressure, they begin to talk. Sometimes about family, sometimes about worries, sometimes about life dreams they have never shared with anyone. And all I do is listen. No preaching. No teaching. Just presence. And I have seen how much relief that simple act brings. What I realised is this: my ministry is not defined by the building I am in. It is not limited to the hospital ward or the chaplain’s office. Sometimes it happens in the quiet hum of the car engine, or during a nighttime drive to Manchester Airport, when a seafarer finally feels safe enough to speak from the heart. In both places — the bedside and the car seat, God invites me to the same posture: to listen gently, humbly, and without rushing. This reflection reminds me that I am not called to fix people’s lives or answer every spiritual question. I am called to listen, truly listen, because in that listening, people find space to breathe again. And in that silence, as Bonhoeffer teaches, we discover that God has been speaking all along, not with loud answers, but with quiet companionship.

Today, after my Hospital visits, during Mass in the hospital chapel, Father Anthony began his homily about the rock and the sand, the foundation we build our lives on. As soon as he spoke those words, it took me back almost thirty five years to my college days. I remembered joining a gospel song competition with a friend, and the winning piece was about “strong faith,” or kalig-on sa pagtoo in my own language. Hearing the priest speak about foundations made the lyrics of that song come back to me so clearly. What struck me is how the message of that song has followed me through life. Now, facing my recent diagnosis in my kidney, operation and recovery, I realise even more how important that foundation is. In the early days of hearing the news, I expected fear or panic, but instead I felt a surprising peace. And I know that peace comes from faith, the same faith I learned when I was a young student singing that song with confidence, maybe not fully understanding it yet. But today, I understand it differently. A strong foundation in God doesn’t remove the storms, but it keeps us standing when they come. That is what has held me in these past weeks/months. The same message I heard as a teenager in a song is now the truth I lean on as an adult. For me, that is grace,God reminding me through a homily, through an old memory, and even through illness, that faith has been my solid rock all along. --- From the Gospel according to Matthew 7:21, 24-27 Jesus said to his disciples:“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’will enter the Kingdom of heaven,but only the one who does the will of my Father in heaven. “Everyone who listens to these words of mine and acts on themwill be like a wise man who built his house on rock.The rain fell, the floods came,and the winds blew and buffeted the house.But it did not collapse; it had been set solidly on rock.And everyone who listens to these words of minebut does not act on themwill be like a fool who built his house on sand.The rain fell, the floods came,and the winds blew and buffeted the house.And it collapsed and was completely ruined.