Analisa is Justin's mom, and I love her passion. She loves her son, and you can see her concern for him in her every facial feature. It is because she loves him that she has had to give him up. She wants a better future for him than her family situation can provide, so she has surrendered him to the little children's home, in the ultimate self-sacrifice, for his own welfare.

We met Analisa at the town hall yesterday, because she needed to take us to the hilot's house to get a signature for Justin's birth certificate. Mingay is the traditional birthing attendant (we might say untrained midwife -- 'hilot' in Tagalog) who delivered Justin before he was surrendered to the little children's home.

Mingay had a fever so we had to go to her house for the signature. This is how we got there.



Then, when we couldn't walk any further, we got a boat. This is in the street of the village, but six months out of every year, their streets turn into channels.



Mingay is an old- fashioned match- maker and midwife, busybody and recognized community leader. While we were signing paper work she started to tell us about another baby she had delivered who might be in danger.

The empathy between Mingay and Analisa is palpable, and you could see Analisa lean into her words--caring for her own son in the story of another little newborn in need. Her facial features are harsh, but don't mistake them. It's the ferocious love of a mother who would do anything for a child in need.

We finished up the paper work, but in between signatures we talked about the other family. Mingay said it was a long ways away, and that the water comes up to your neck. She said maybe we could come back when the water goes down, or that maybe she could talk them into coming to the home for counseling.

But she also said that they had already received an offer of P5,000 ($100) for the child. We said there was no way we were leaving without seeing them. So off we went.

Here's proof that I was the one behind the camera. Despite the seriousness of the issues we were dealing with, the people and their faith were beautiful. Mingay was hilarious, joking about getting married and moving to Canada together. There's a levity in the way Filipinos deal with hardship that is not incommensurable with forthrightness. And, besides, it's not every day you get to see a vista like this.

Since Joy, our celebrated social worker, had my camera (actually, Aubrey's camera) -- these pictures were taken with my cell phone.

Out in a field of kongkong, a vegetable grown in water, a few tiny houses float above a kind of marsh.


Helen, do you remember that Mother's Day we spent all those years ago out in Angono with Dennis and Jeri? You can see the tower we were near from Len-Len's house.









From another millennium ...you can look out over the Makati sky line.

Arriving at their home, we found Len-Len and her mother, Mila, watching over Ivy and the newborn during their afternoon nap.

They have a diminutive, little place. One bed for (at least) five of them; a little kitchen outside, and a little cooking area inside. The kitchen/washing area outside is just a sink set in the floor that drains into the swamp under their house.

The cooking area inside is just a pot with a concrete container for burning charcoal underneath it.

But they have a dog to bark at strangers, locks on their doors, and a mark of dignity in the way they live.

Before Mingay had finished introducing us they had already asked us to take the infant, who didn't have a name yet.

It wasn't jovial, but it was very matter-of-fact. They confirmed that they had been considering selling the baby, but were very happy that we would find a good home for him--even though it meant they wouldn't make any money out of it. It's not that they didn't care about him, but situations have conspired against them so that they cannot take care of him.

While we were talking, the grandfather came home. Joy encouraged them to give the child a name, and they chose the grandfather's name, Leonardo. The grandfather's nick name is Mani, but he joked that if your name is Mani there's never any money.






As I said, they were ready to make the decision before we came all the way through the door. But Joy explained it to them very carefully. I invited them to come see the baby home and to take some time to consider their decision.

This is our farewell from the Leonardo ('Mani') on our way back to the baby home.



The did come to the home to visit. Deborah talked with them again at length. We prayed together, blessing the family and asking for God's grace to go with Leonardo.

Sleep tight, Leonardo.