By Dominic Lum Zawng, Columban Student from Myanmar on First Mission Assignment (FMA) in Mindanao

Today, August 13, is the last day of my homestay program in Malingin, Barra Parish. Strangely, as I come to the end of this chapter, my mind keeps returning to the day I first arrived in this community on May 20, 2026. The memory remains vivid―the place, the people, the sea, and especially the feeling I carried in my heart that morning.

I took a taxi from the Columban House to Barangay Igpit, where motorcycles usually wait to bring people to San Juan Community in Malingin. But that morning, there was not a single motorcycle in sight. A man told me that the tide was high, and because of the water, no motorcycle was coming through at that time. I had no other choice but to walk.

With one bag on my back and another in my hand, I began walking toward the community. Soon, I realized just how high the tide was. The seawater reached almost halfway up my thighs. As I walked through it, feeling it rise with every step, something stirred deep within me. I began to sense that I was not simply crossing a stretch of water. With every step through the water, I felt that I was entering a new chapter of my journey into the community, its culture, and the lives of the people I had come to live among.

In a way, that walk became a kind of baptism for me―a baptism into a new beginning, a new reality, and a deeper invitation to encounter Christ in a different way.

When I finally reached the other side, I remember saying to myself, “Yes, Dominic, another beginning starts here.”

My pants were half wet, and my heart carried a mixture of excitement and anxiety. I was excited about what awaited me, but I was also anxious because I did not know what my place would be in this community. I wondered what I could contribute and how I could become part of the lives of the people I was about to meet.

For more than three months, I stayed with the family of Ma’am Georgie Andales West and her grandson, Justine. Looking back now, I realize how much I have changed since those first days. At the beginning of my community immersion, I often felt helpless. Deep inside, I wanted so much to become part of the community. I was almost rushing to belong, but I did not know how. I kept asking myself what I could do and how I could be of help. Many of the things I imagined seemed beyond my ability. Everything was new, and I was unsure where I could fit in.

As time passed, however, my understanding slowly changed.

I began to realize that I was not here primarily to change the lives of the people. I was here to be with them―to listen, to learn, and to share life with them. How could I hope to help others if I was not first willing to be taught by them and to build relationships?

Gradually, I discovered that when I simply made myself available, many possibilities began to open. I did not need to force anything. I only needed to be present. Through that simple availability, I began to find different ways of participating and becoming a small part of the larger community. In other words, I was learning to be like a grain of salt, quietly contributing to the life around me.

One of the experiences I will always cherish from my community immersion is the opportunity to join the Basic Ecclesial Community (BEC) gatherings in San Juan and in other communities of Barra Parish. These gatherings allowed me to meet families, listen to their stories, share their experiences, and slowly build relationships. I came to know not only names and faces, but also something of the joys, struggles, hopes, and faith of the people.

Another beautiful part of my immersion has been building friendships with children, young people, and the elderly. June 6 remains especially memorable for me. I consider that day an important moment in building a deeper connection with the community. We organized a clean-up drive along the beach, and afterward, we put up a volleyball net. From that day on, many young people began gathering there to play.

I found myself returning almost every evening to play with the children and young people. What began simply as a game of volleyball slowly became something much deeper. It became a bridge of friendship. It became my simple way of saying, “I am here with you.”

Through these ordinary moments, friendships grew naturally.

In my community immersion, I humbly recognize that I did not have much to offer. What I could offer was much simpler: my availability and my presence. Whenever the youth or the community needed someone to drive for them, accompany them, or help with activities such as ecological  initiatives, selling tickets for the church construction, I tried to be there.

What I contributed may seem very small. Yet through these small acts of service, I came to know people more deeply and gradually became part of their community. I learned that service does not always have to be something extraordinary. Sometimes, service is simply showing up. Sometimes, mission is driving someone somewhere, selling a few tickets, joining a volleyball game, sitting with people, listening to their stories, or walking alongside them.

In these simple moments, I encountered God.

Looking back now, I can see that God was quietly guiding me from the very beginning—from that first walk through the water, through the days when I felt lost and did not know what to do, to the many small opportunities I eventually discovered to serve and share life with  the people.

Perhaps the greatest lesson of my immersion is realizing that mission is not always about doing something great for people; sometimes it is simply about being with them.

I entered the water that first morning carrying bags in my hands and uncertainty in my heart. I crossed to the other side wondering what this new chapter would bring. Today, as I prepare to leave, I realize that the water was more than an obstacle I had to cross. It became a symbol of the journey I was about to make.

I thought I was simply entering a new community. In reality, I was also being invited to enter more deeply into myself, into relationships, and into God’s presence among ordinary people.

Living with the people, sharing their daily lives, driving them to different places, selling tickets, joining the youth, attending BEC gatherings, playing volleyball, and simply being present have taught me to recognize God’s presence in the ordinary. I have come to see  that God often works quietly―not only through grand moments, but through small encounters, simple acts of kindness, laughter, conversations, and friendships.

As I leave Malingin, I carry with me much more than memories. I carry the faces of the people, the laughter of the children, the stories shared in the community, the sound of the sea, and the feeling of that first walk through the water.

I came here wondering what I could give. I leave realizing how much I have received.

Perhaps this is the mystery of mission: when we make ourselves available to others and allow ourselves to be welcomed into their lives, we discover that God was already there, quietly waiting for us.

I entered this community as a stranger, uncertain and anxious. I leave with a deeper gratitude, a stronger faith, and a renewed understanding of what it means to walk with people.

That first journey through the water was, in many ways, the  beginning of my immersion―not only into a new community, but into the simple, beautiful, and sacred reality of being with God’s people. What began as an uncertain crossing has become a grace I will carry with me long after I leave.

Featured Image Above: May 20, 2026: With one bag on his back and another in his hand, Dominic wades through the water on his way to the community of Malingin.