Encountering the Presence of God in Everyday Life
By Noh Hyein, Anna – Philippines
A small bird flew in through the sunlit window. It rested for a moment near the ceiling above the altar, then flew away again. Seeing this little creature during Mass reminded me deeply that I have truly returned to the Philippines. Attending Mass with birds flying around is one of my favorite things about this country. In that moment, I felt the presence of life and of God.
Now, in 2025, I’ve come back to the Philippines after leaving in 2018—eight years ago. I recall vividly my arrival here in 2011. Everything felt new, exciting, and a little scary. Coming back now, the Philippines feels both familiar and unfamiliar. I’m slowly adjusting again, standing between the memories of the past and the reality of today. Tagalog used to flow easily from my mouth, but now it feels distant. So much has changed—bike lanes, delivery apps, online banking, etc. But some things remain the same: Columban colleagues and friends who welcome me, the sound of jeepneys and car horns, the rhythm of the rain, fresh coconut juice and Betamax (grilled coagulated pork blood, a typical Filipino street food), and the women from the candle-making livelihood project with whom I used to work. There are fewer of them now, but their presence still comforts me. As time passes, the Tagalog words I had buried deep in memory slowly return. Through all this, I feel myself reconnecting with the people, the culture, and creation in the Philippines.
After finishing a 10-week Tagalog refresher course, I started my new assignment at Malate Catholic Church at the end of August. This new mission is opening a fresh chapter in my missionary journey. I now work alongside ordained Columban missionaries, in a community that is familiar with the presence of missionaries. (Before, I worked in non-Columban parishes in the Novaliches Diocese.) In the parish, I participate in various activities and feel the Holy Spirit at work in my daily life. I help prepare and serve food to the beneficiaries at the parish feeding program, visit mission areas to meet people, participate in Bible sharing, and pray with other volunteers and youth during the Rosary and Taizé Prayer. In these moments, I feel the Spirit deeply—something that is hard to explain in words.
I’m still adjusting and exploring what I can do here. I’m thinking about how to bring the Society’s priorities—supporting migrants and refugees and protecting biodiversity—into parish life. After praying for a young girl who jumped from a hotel in Malate (her parents were both Overseas Foreign Workers), I joined a forum called “Parental Migration and Family Welfare”. It helped me understand more deeply the pain of OFW families and listen more closely to the “cry of the poor.” During the Season of Creation, I joined the Walk for Creation and International Coastal Cleanup at Manila Bay, helped care for the church garden, and sorted donated items for resale for fundraising with the volunteers. These small actions are my way of responding to the “cry of the earth.”
Life reveals itself in everyday movements. A tree may look still, but it draws nutrients through its roots and sends life through its veins. A river flows endlessly toward the sea. My days move like that, too. In this flow, I feel alive. To be alive is not to be still, but to move. And in that movement, there is life. That life leads me to encounter God. It is God’s presence that sustains me here and now.
As I live each moment, I want to listen more deeply to the “cry of the earth and the cry of the poor.” This is how I meet God in my daily life and respond to life with love. I will continue this missionary journey, walking with others and with creation, one day at a time.
Featured Image: Anna (center) with Parish Volunteers, 2025 International Coastal Cleanup
