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[19:07 Taft avenue station]

Common eye.

My friends at work coined that term to describe my knack of seeing things differently--what looked ugly to others actually looked beautiful to me. It's as if God designed my eyes hypersensitive to beauty that even the slightest ounce of beauty makes even the ugliest acceptable. I'm proud to have such ability but it could turn into the worst of skill sometimes.

I have a confession to make.

I can't resist the temptation of staring at beautiful things, may it be a majestic scenery or someone else's face. If some pretty face passes    by, I need to muster all my energy just to resist looking at her again. I know it's rude to stare but I can't help it. Thank God I have one of the most beautiful ladies  in the world as my girlfriend who deserves my full undivided attention. That gives me motivation to quit staring whenever I catch myself staring but it's a learning process. It's really great that I got to practice everyday in the MRT, and yesterday was no difference.

I was a little late so it wasn't too crowded. I got the chance to see a clearer picture of the whole scheme: it was an MRT platform turned catwalk as pretty girls from different walks of life, different backgrounds  and different lifestyles strut their beauty into the MRT trains. They make life complicated for most men as their heads jerk and spin just to catch a glimpse of these women's overwhelming beauty. I must know. I watch them regularly, how these head-turners enslave the male MRT goers. Few of them entered the front most part of the train and I followed suit. 

There were at least four extremely pretty girls on that part of the MRT: One was a student with an angelic face worthy of a magazine's front cover; there was also an employee with her officemate, both of them looked like celebrities ,  sporting wonderful braids , they had their eyelashes fixed to perfection and their porcelain-like complexion that could make any baby   envious; and there was also a lady who looked like a supermodel in her eye glasses, jeans and white shirt. I found some seats unoccupied so I helped myself to one but later gave it to an elderly carrying extra heavy luggage. In an instant there was a staring-war inside the train as men tried every tactic just so they could stare. I saw one wearing shades (at night, mind you) but was facing the cute student by the door. Another pretended to read newspaper but had his eyes fixed on the employees. One had his eyes closed as if trying to sleep but I caught him slightly opening them just to catch sight of the lady in jeans standing in front of him. It was funny!

Wonderful and beautiful daughters of God hear me out! Look at how you can enslave men, strong and powerful, just by your presence. I smiled. I remember a text message I got from a friend that morning saying, “God made woman beautiful and foolish; beautiful, that man might love her; and foolish, that she might love him." I was so intent on watching how these men try all their luck just so they could fill their lives with their presence that I failed to see the old lady in front of me, standing with his enormous baggage dangling from her fragile arms. Ironically, a young man was seating in front of her, enjoying the seat that, I thought, was righteously hers. I sighed. All I can do was to help the old lady carry her things. 

"Nay, ako nalang po?" I asked politely. 

"Ay sige, okay lang." She obliged and just before she could finish her sentence, a girl seating in front of me stood up and with that lovely smile she said, "Sige lola, upo po kayo." 

I moved a little making way for the girl and the old lady.

"Thank you!" the old lady said with a sigh of relief. 

I was dumbstruck with her kindness and her willingness to sacrifice for the sake of a complete stranger. I praised God. It was like seeing a miracle! I felt so blessed! I smiled. I also caught myself praying and thanking God for, amidst this chaotic life we live, such kindness still exists. I also prayed that the man comfortably seated beside the old lady would be moved the sacrifice the girl did. Suddenly, the pretty student lost her allure; the gorgeous employees weren't striking anymore and the lovely lady in jeans failed to outshine the beauty of this lovely girl standing beside me. She didn't have the perfect hair, the gorgeous dress, even the wonderful complexion the other four had. She looked chubby in her pink worn-out dress and faded jeans but everything about her looked lovely. Even her cheap phone looked like a brand new iPhone 4 in her hands. I was honouring every bit of her. She suddenly looked so pretty in my eyes that I wondered why didn't I see  her pass by me. She was wonderful and I couldn't help but admire her. She made me feel I was home until it hit me. 

I took a pen, grabbed a post-it and wrote:

And as I write, I imagined her serving God with that quality of kindness and joy she just  showed the old lady, I saw her serving in the Feast as an usher, I imagined her being part of the wonderful family I belonged to and I felt so excited for her. It was like the best thing to do so I took the post-it, pasted it in the one last postcard I have from the Feast and waited for my stop. 

I was two stations away from my stop when I felt fear overcoming me. All of a sudden, giving her the post card felt like a bad idea. I was shaking and I found myself breathing deep breathes. It wasn't easy as I've expected. It felt like I'm asking some stranger for her number, it felt like introducing yourself to a crush and I was so frightened that I actually hid the postcard in my bag. But I knew I had to do it so as soon as the door opened at my stop (Araneta center Cubao) I took one deep breath, gave the girl post card and said, "Miss nahulog niyo ata."

It was awkward, yes, but that's the only thing I had in mind. It felt really corny and looking back I felt this aching urge to commit suicide. Deep inside I was shouting "NAKAKAHIYA!" but I did it anyway. Shame held me by the neck and it was gripping hard. But her reaction caught me off balance--she just smiled. She could have said "ay hindi po akin yan" but, as if expecting it, she looked at the postcard and smiled. I didn't look back. I was so ashamed of what I did but moments later, it felt great! 

"For we are taking pains to do what is right, not only in the eyes of the Lord but also in the eyes of man." (2 Corr 8:21)

May God's love open our eyes to the beauty of the world, 

Rex Van Carlo Mollo

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam