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Chapter VI: The Commitment
The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the electric fan and the occasional rustle of leaves outside the window. Liz kneels by her bedside, her hands clasped tightly together, her head bowed.
"Lord," she whispers, her voice soft but resolute,
"thank You for bringing me this far. Tomorrow is the Investiture. Please guide me, give me strength, and let me honor You in everything I do."
After a long moment, she ends her prayer with a sign of the cross and stands. The faint glow of her phone catches her attention, and she picks it up. The lock screen illuminates the room—a vibrant photo of her and Bennett, styled like an Instagram layout.
She lingers, her thumb brushing over his face on the screen. They're both smiling in the photo, carefree and full of life. Liz's heart tightens as she recalls the day they took it.
"We look so perfect here," she thinks, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Her gaze shifts to the framed photo of Bennett beside her bed. She picks it up gently, the glass cool against her fingers. Memories flood her mind—his laughter, the way he used to explain things with so much passion, his unwavering belief in her.
"I hope you'd be proud of me, Bennett," she murmurs, her voice trembling slightly.
She kisses the photo, then sets it back on her bedside table. After turning off the lights, Liz crawls under the covers, her mind still swirling with thoughts of him.
That night, Liz dreams.
She stands before a massive red curtain, its golden linings glimmering under an unseen light. The air feels heavy, yet there's an undeniable pull to see what lies beyond.
Her hands reach out, gripping the thick fabric. With a deep breath, she pulls it aside.
At first, she sees an angelic figure bathed in radiant light, its silhouette exuding peace. But as she steps closer, the figure begins to twist and contort. The light dims, replaced by shadows, and the angel transforms into a devil with piercing eyes and a wicked grin.
Liz stumbles back, her heart racing. The devil lunges forward, its laughter echoing in her ears.
She wakes with a start, her chest heaving and beads of sweat on her forehead. For a moment, she stays still, staring at the darkened ceiling.
The scent of garlic rice and fried eggs wafts into her room as morning breaks. Liz stretches and gets up, her dream lingering at the edge of her mind.
In the kitchen, her aunts, Dolores and Dominga, are busy preparing breakfast.
"Good morning, Liz!" Dominga greets, flipping a piece of fish in the pan.
"Big day today, huh?"
Liz nods, a faint smile on her lips.
"Good morning, Tita. Yes, it's the Investiture."
"Are you ready?" Dolores asks, placing a steaming cup of coffee on the table.
Liz takes a seat, her hands resting on the cool wooden surface.
"I think so. I've prepared everything."
Dominga sets down a plate of food in front of her.
"You'll do great. We're all proud of you, Liz."
After eating, Liz heads to her room to get dressed. Her white blouse and black skirt hang neatly on her closet door, ironed to perfection. She puts them on carefully, ensuring every crease is smooth.
As she checks her reflection, her grandma enters the room.
"Liz, are you ready?"
Liz smiles.
"Yes, Abuelita."
Her grandma nods approvingly.
"You look beautiful. Bennett would be so proud."
At the mention of his name, Liz feels a lump in her throat. She blinks rapidly, trying to hold back the tears.
"What's wrong?" her grandma asks, her voice full of concern.
Liz takes a shaky breath.
"It's just... I wish he could see this. I know he'd be proud."
Her grandma places a comforting hand on Liz's shoulder.
"He wouldn't want you to cry, hija. Wipe those tears. Celebrate this day with joy in your heart."
Liz nods, wiping her eyes.
"Gracias, Abuelita"
The ride to the school is quiet but peaceful. Liz sits beside her grandma in the tricycle, the early morning sun casting a warm glow over the streets. She gazes out the window, her thoughts drifting back to Bennett.
His voice echoes in her mind, reminding her of their shared dreams and the promises they made. A bittersweet smile forms on her lips.
As they near the school, her grandma places a hand on her knee.
"You're ready for this, Liz. You've worked hard, and now it's time to shine."
Liz nods, her heart swelling with gratitude.
The school is abuzz with activity as the Investiture ceremony draws near. Students, teachers, and parents fill the hall, their chatter creating a lively atmosphere. Liz and her grandma find their seats, and she takes a moment to steady herself.
Her fellow trainees are already gathered, adjusting their attire and rehearsing the lines they've practiced. Wyn waves at Liz, a bright smile on her face.
"Hey, perfect scorer!" Wyn teases.
Liz laughs lightly, feeling the tension ease.
Her grandma squeezes her hand.
"Remember, Liz, Bennett is watching over you. He's proud of you, just as we all are."
Tears threaten to well up again, but Liz takes a deep breath and straightens her posture.
"Gracias Abuelita. I'll make him proud."
As the ceremony begins, Liz feels a sense of peace wash over her. The past, the present, and the future converge in this moment, and she knows she's exactly where she's meant to be.
The Investiture ceremony begins with a solemnity that commands reverence. The faint hum of murmurs hushes as Brother Padilla steps to the podium, his presence steady and composed.
"Good morning, Buenas Diaz, everyone," he begins, his voice resonating through the hall.
"Today, we celebrate not just an accomplishment but a commitment—a calling to serve at the altar of the Lord. To be an altar server is to stand in humility and grace, assisting in the sacred liturgy, and offering oneself as a vessel for God's love."
Liz listens intently, her hands folded in her lap. Every word Brother Padilla speaks feels like an affirmation of her decision.
"And now, we may now all rise, and sing the opening hymn"
The bell chimes, and a serene hymn fills the air. The old servers, clad in their white surplices and black cassocks, march down the aisle, holding the different seriales that gleam under the light. The air is thick with reverence as they make their way to the stage where the altar stands.
At the end of the procession, Fr. Edgar B. Leon, the presider, follows, his movements deliberate and measured. As he reaches the altar, he makes the sign of the cross, signaling the start of the mass.
The familiar rhythm of the liturgy begins. The Kyrie is sung, followed by a jubilant rendition of "Glory to God." Liz's heart swells as the Gospel is read, its timeless message resonating with her.
After the Gospel, Fr. Edgar steps forward, his voice calm yet commanding.
"Today, we gather to welcome new altar servers into this sacred ministry," he begins.
"But let me remind you, this is not just a role or a duty—it is a way of life. To serve at the altar is to commit yourself to God's work, to humility, to love, and to peace."
He pauses, his gaze sweeping across the congregation.
"In serving, you learn that greatness is not found in power or prestige, but in the willingness to serve others. Jesus Christ Himself said, 'The greatest among you shall be your servant.' As altar servers, you become a reflection of this truth. You assist not for recognition, but for devotion. You are called to be humble, even when no one is watching; to be faithful, even when it is difficult; and to be kind, even when it is not easy."
Liz feels a lump in her throat as she absorbs his words.
"This is why I'm here," she thinks.
As the homily concludes, the moment everyone has been waiting for arrives. The old servers step aside, and the aspirants are called forward to receive their surplices and cassocks.
The hymn resumes, and Liz marches down the aisle with steady steps. Her heart races, but her resolve is firm. She imagines Bennett sitting among the congregation, his proud smile beaming at her.
As she nears the altar, a vivid memory surfaces—a day when Bennett had asked her,
"Liz, are you sure you want to be an altar server?"
"I want to do this for God," Liz had replied, her eyes shining with determination.
"And to follow in your footsteps."
Bennett had smiled then, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.
"I'll always be proud of you."
The memory fades as Liz reaches the front. Bowing deeply, she receives her surplice and cassock, the fabric soft yet weighty in her hands. As she steps aside, Wyn follows, her expression a mix of pride and joy as she receives hers as well.
The mass flows into its next parts—the Hosanna, the consecration, the mystery of faith, the Amen, the Lord's Prayer, and the Agnus Dei. During the Agnus Dei, Liz lowers her head, her hands clasped tightly together.
"Peace be with you, Bennett," she whispers silently.
"Even if you're not here, I hope you're in peace."
When it's time for communion, Liz steps forward, her movements deliberate and prayerful. She receives the Body of Christ, her soul awash with a deep sense of gratitude.
As she kneels in prayer, another memory comes to her. She recalls Bennett explaining the importance of peace one quiet afternoon in the cathedral.
"Peace isn't just about the absence of conflict," he had said.
"It's about finding calm even in the storm and sharing that calm with others."
The memory dissolves, leaving Liz with a profound sense of purpose as she finishes her prayer.
After the final blessing, the old servers process out of the hall, their movements dignified. The hymn swells once more, marking the end of the ceremony.
As the last notes fade, Wyn turns to Liz, her arms open wide. They embrace tightly, sharing in each other's joy.
"You did amazing," Wyn says, her voice muffled against Liz's shoulder.
"You too," Liz replies, her smile genuine.
As they part, Liz glances toward the stairs at the edge of the hall. For a fleeting moment, she imagines Bennett standing there, his smile warm and his eyes filled with pride. He raises his hand, blowing her a gentle kiss.
Tears prick her eyes, but they're tears of joy. She knows he's with her in spirit.
Liz and her grandma head home together, the morning's events still fresh in their minds. As they sit around the table, her aunts join in the celebration, their voices filled with pride and excitement.
"Congratulations, Liz! You've made us all so proud," Dolores says, raising her glass in a toast.
"Bennett would've been proud too," Dominga adds with a knowing smile.
Liz nods, her heart full.
"Thank you, everyone."
That night, as she lies in bed, Liz looks at Bennett's photo one more time.
"I did it," she whispers, her voice barely audible.
"I hope you're proud of me."
With that, she drifts into a peaceful sleep, her heart light and her spirit renewed.
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