It has been a while since my last blog entry. Ronnel teased me that blogging is outdated and that I should be vlogging instead. I have no talent for that—no confidence, and certainly no motivation to tell my story on video. I am still, and always will be, a writer at heart.
My last entry was about our family’s COVID experience and how that brought us closer together. In many ways, it feels fitting that this entry tells the story of how this year became another catalyst for strengthening our bonds. I write not really for others, but for myself—so that one day, as I’ve done before, I can re-read these words and see how much life, grace, and time have shaped me.
The year began quite mundanely, especially when compared to the year before—a year marked by major changes. We had moved into a new home just down the road. Our two girls officially became teenagers. And maybe the catalyst -- we stood our ground on matters of principle within our faith community. And so, 2025 felt like a year of settling in. We settled into our home, Aqui and Ia into their college years, and Ronnel and I into our roles as leaders of a new unit within the community.
Yet beneath that calm was a quiet restlessness. Like a sleeping volcano that had already been stirred, Ronnel and I sensed we were being led somewhere else—though we didn’t yet know where.
What followed was not an easy decision, and no single narrative could fully capture it. It felt like the story of the blind men and the elephant—each holding a different part, each convinced they understood the whole. We had to step back, let go, and open our eyes to see the full picture.
For seventeen years, our lives were deeply woven into the community. It was our family. Our service, our faith, our children—all intertwined. But when actions begin to make you question your core values, a choice must be made. And for us, that meant prioritising our family, and making sure that our children - especially the girls are in a community that will help them be true to our Christian values. So we stepped out.
Leaving the CFC community strengthened our conviction to draw closer to God in new ways—to find other avenues of service, to deepen our understanding of our faith, and to be attentive to signs and wonders. And the signs came, one after another.
We began seeking new opportunities to serve—emailing the parish, attending the Life in the Spirit Seminar to return to the basics, and supporting friends in their services at the Divine Retreat Centre. Needs surfaced that we would never have considered had we stayed where we were. But there was one call that felt impossible to ignore. I now think of it as our Jonah moment.
While Ronnel was in the Philippines attending his brother’s wedding, he sought counsel from his family about everything we were going through. On the day of his flight back to New Zealand, he received a message from his cousin—a missionary and long-time inspiration in our faith journey. They spoke on the phone, and Kuya Cocoi shared that he had gone through something strikingly similar. Slowly, the elephant began to take shape. As it often does, time revealed the truth.
Almost casually, his cousin mentioned another community present in Auckland—and, coincidentally, the Oceania regional coordinator would be travelling to Australia that very same day. That was how Ronnel met Bro Jojo at the airport. There had been a conference in Australia and Auckland, and we were invited to attend if we were open to it.
I wasn’t.
I had no desire to join another community. I was convinced our family could live out our faith simply by serving our parish. Yet deep in my heart, I knew there are no coincidences with God. The path felt too carefully laid out to ignore.
When Ronnel returned from the Philippines, we officially and respectfully informed our leaders that we were leaving the community. It was the right decision for us.
We attended the Missionary Families of Christ conference in Auckland with open hearts and minds—mine, admittedly, a little guarded. The format was familiar, having attended many conferences over the past seventeen years, yet something felt peacefully different.
It was intimate. With just over a hundred participants, it felt unhurried compared to the conferences of three hundred or more we were used to. More importantly, it was truly for the whole family—children, youth, singles, couples—all journeying together.
The greatest blessing was meeting and listening to the founder, Tito Frank Padilla. I had long heard of him—from my father-in-law’s well-loved books and stories within the MFC community. As one of the original co-founders before the separation, meeting him felt like a full-circle moment. He was insightful, deeply passionate about the Lord, and profoundly humble. We later learned he was already sick at the time, yet he continued to serve with quiet strength. His passing on Christmas eve troubled our hearts but it was yet another wonder for us to have the chance to meet him then.
Meeting people outside what I had grown accustomed to was uncomfortable. In many of them, I saw reflections of old friends. Ronnel offered two ways of understanding this: either it revealed how much we missed those friendships, or God was placing new people in our lives—people with Christ in their faces, familiar because of Him.
We remain deeply grateful to our first community, CFC. They nurtured our faith and walked with us as our family grew for seventeen years. But like my old jeans that I could never quite fit into anymore, it was time to move on. The friendships we built will never fade. Team TAE will always be part of me—but I know it can also blossom into something new.
After weeks of prayer, conversations with family, and guidance from MFC leaders, we surrendered.
There was no MFC community in Wellington. This meant we would be helping to establish one.
Charisma has never been my gift. If anything, I tend to exude aloofness—taray --I blame my eyebrows. I’ve always known I’m an acquired taste, and I’ve made peace with that. Accepting the mission to help expand MFC alongside my husband felt far beyond my capabilities.
But still, we followed. And He provided.
The first people who responded to our invitation were longtime friends—our first household leaders when we joined the community back in 2008. They had left CFC in 2017. We held a condensed Christian Life Seminar in our home, inviting those we had met through LSS or who had previously been part of CFC. And just like that, our first household was formed.
It was a household filled with grace. The wisdom, honesty, and love each couple brought was unlike anything I had experienced before. It pushed me to learn more about my faith. The more I learned, the more I realised how little I knew—and yet, paradoxically, the more confident I became in defending our beliefs and convictions.
Defending Faith, Family, and Life—the MFC tagline—became deeply personal. How could I defend my faith if I barely understood it? Or if I hid behind a community rather than owning it?
I knew I had grown when I found myself in conversation with Jehovah’s Witnesses who knocked on our door. We discussed the 66 versus 73 books of the Bible, and their belief that Jesus was only a prophet. When the younger man showed curiosity about the seven removed books, the elder gently pulled him away to the next house. That moment stayed with me. The Bible itself was compiled by the Church—why settle for less when the fullness of faith resides in the Catholic Church?
That encounter was a first for me. I knew it was not of my own strength.
Our household continued to grow—not only in numbers, but in faith and love. One practice Ronnel and I began was a weekly heart-to-heart discussion. The last time we had engaged in something so structured was during our marriage preparation retreat in 2004.
At first, it was awkward and emotionally draining—years of unspoken thoughts laid bare. Over time, it became essential, as if the week felt incomplete without it. Our goal became simple: to be slow to anger and quick to forgive.
Eventually, the children wanted to join. And so, once a month, we began holding a family heart-to-heart.
We ended 2025 fulfilled.
We held an early Christmas household gathering as many families were travelling to the Philippines. Aqui remarked that the year felt quiet compared to the one before, when our calendar had been filled with parties and events. We visited Auckland to spend time with our new brothers and sisters, slowly building deeper relationships.
There were moments of emotional turbulence—perhaps perimenopause, perhaps simply the weight of transition. I wondered if I was too old to build new relationships, to invest in new friendships. Doubts crept in, especially when we heard comments suggesting our decision was divisive, or when different versions of our story surfaced.
One comment struck particularly deeply: “Congrats. At last, you can now lead your own ministry.”
My heart sank. That was never the case.
The Holy Spirit stopped me from responding out of hurt or pride. There was no need to explain. To some, the elephant will always look like a snake.
When the sting lingered, I searched for understanding—and found it in Acts 15:39. If sharp disagreements could arise even among the greatest pillars of the Church, how much more among ordinary community members like us?
Multiplication through division.
The seven couples in our household would never have formed such deep bonds without this separation. My Bible would have remained dusty without the weekly Liturgical Bible studies MFC invited us into. When they first asked us to highlight passages, it felt almost sacrilegious—until I realised the Word is meant to be lived, marked, wrestled with, and loved.
And so, we step into a new year facing new challenges—continuing the mission, staying attentive to signs and wonders. There is still much to do, but we will take it one step at a time, always making sure the elephant remains fully in view.
References:
The Blind Men and the Elephant https://allpoetry.com/The-Blind-Man-And-The-Elephant
Paul and Barnabas https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/when-sharp-disagreements-separate
Our new community: https://missionaryfamiliesofchrist.org/
