Today, the third Sunday of January is the Feast of Santo Niño de Cebu, the biggest fiesta in the city, and I spent it as I usually do each year: Watching the revelry of the city sponsored street festival through the TV screen at home. Ditto with my siblings (we three sisters and a brother are a bunch of homebodies, you know…), although Mama brought my youngest sister with her to go off to an aunt’s house, to eat, not watch the festivities.

I missed the activities on the feast’s eve (Bisperas) including the fluvial parade and the procession (which I often attend in previous years) as I was on 24 hour duty at the hospital yesterday. I was already nursing a cold and sore throat then. After getting off from work this morning, I attended Holy Mass at our parish and then slept for part of the morning. When I got up, my illness (and the ill weather) got the better of me, so I decided to decline both invitations to go out that I got earlier in the week.

I know that it’s the equivalent of being a scrooge on Christmas, but I have always preferred a much quieter celebration, not some commercialized event where people are only sort of reminded that the purpose of the dancing and revelry it to honor our King and Lord in the image of a little child. He does want us to be temperate in the midsts of celebrating but it’s kind of hard when everyone is pigging out and getting drunk. At least, being sick and staying home, I have something to offer him up. Later this week, maybe I’ll pay him a visit at the Basilica Minore del Santo Niño, and light a candle for my intentions.

Viva Senyor Santo Niño! Pit Senyor!