Missionary: Healer of Soul and Body
	By Fr. Jimmy Cabuntucan, MSP

One evening, a man with a fatal injury was brought to my mission house. His companions told me what had happened: A jealous husband tried to hack his head with a sharp bolo. Luckily, he saw it coming so he was able to dodge a little bit. The bolo, instead, landed deeply on the left side of his face, slicing the flesh from his cheek bone down to his jaw.

His face was practically ripped open. I could see his teeth, jawbone, and blood gushing out. The flesh chopped from his face did not come off completely; it was still dangling, held by a little skin at his upper neck. It was a sickening sight.

His relatives wanted me to bring him to the hospital. But it was already 6:00 p.m. The sea was rough, and it would have taken us ten hours in my 90-Horsepower boat to reach the town. A voyage in the dark could be very dangerous due to floating logs. To follow their idea could bring more trouble. So I decided to wait for the morning.

Meanwhile, I had to do something to his wound. They had traveled for two hours by boat from a village, and he had lost a lot of blood. The man was getting paler and weaker each passing moment. His condition needed immediate medical attention. But I really did not know what to do.

We were trained how to save souls in the seminary but nobody taught us how to save a man with a big gory hole in his face. I have not even taken any basic First Aid training. There was nobody else around who could help, and the locals believed every missionary knows everything under the sun. If he died in my hands, his relatives would, certainly, hold me responsible.

I slipped into my room to pray for guidance. I asked the Lord to teach me what to do. As I opened my eyes, my sight landed straight on the little box on my table. It contained a sewing kit that I had brought along from the Philippines. “Thank you Lord for showing me the way,” I said in my heart. I then took out the needle and thread and had them sterilized.

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