Today. Aleppo.

I groaned when I noted that the clock reads 5 am'ish. I slept late the night before, pushing myself to the limit trying to finish a report with the remaining ounce of energy left in me. I'm on my last week of this deployment and as always the case, my energy tap is already close to depletion. The last few days would be like the final sprint. I was torn between wanting to go back to sleep and just going to the gym to run as I was not able to, the night before, having attended Mass and heading straight to dinner afterwards. But the church beckons. 

I did not take the communion the night before. I was not able to follow the Mass well as it was in Arabic. I listened intently though and was able to discern a few of the messages. But as to actual comprehension, enough to touch my heart, did not have that. So I've forgone the communion. I did know that the Roman Catholic church next to it would have an 8 am Mass the next day. So this morning, I found myself changing for church (and office get-up) instead. Before that, I was doing Mommy-duty, talking to rod about his university plans... 

When we walked into the church, the priest was already at the altar and about to start. Apart from the two commentator in front, the church was empty. I grew a bit self-conscious so decided to sit at the back pew. Mid-way through, there were 2 others who came in, intermittently. Around gospel time I just felt the tears come, unbidden. It felt as if the Mass was held "especially" for me. Although of course that is not the case. But having just a few of us there, it did feel that way. Who would have thought that I'd find myself attending Mass and receiving communion in Aleppo, in Syria. What are the odds? 

I am remembering being part of a joint RTR for Haiyan and having a fellow team member speaking about the sorry state of Syria then. I remember sharing related posts over the years, as the war waged on, year after year. And then suddenly here I am, serving a 3-month deployment. I feel grateful. 

After the Mass, went straight to the office, facilitated a workshop for 2 major sessions. I did not have to do it. Strictly speaking, it was not part of my TOR. It's going an extra mile on my part. But anyone who knows me, knows that I do take my job seriously. Simply because, my job exists because there are people in need. Horrendous as that may sound, it is indeed true isn't it? Humanitarian work could be the most draining and demanding job. It doesn't have to be all the time. But I find myself, pushing myself, putting in extra on top of extra every time. Because, I feel I had to. My job is not about selling pancakes where my only concern would have to be how tasty it is going to be; how fluffy and fresh... It is about touching people's lives. Albeit with my role, a bit more "indirect" and a bit "removed" from the actual day to day community work. 

After the workshop, there were two meetings that I had to attend to as well. I found myself dozing off on the second one. Then after the workshop, I checked out the bazar for local, indigenous products on display at the hotel. Then went back to my room to do a bit of work. A few emails after, I found myself walking towards a concert. Imagine all that. Take about a full day indeed. Thank you, God.