Pastor Jaime Castro Manera, Sr.

Abad, Glory
01 March 2010
RD2

Pastor Jaime Castro Manera, Sr.

When I was a little girl, I always wondered why so many people knew my dad and why they would question me, “Oh! You’re Pastor Manera’s youngest daughter?!” These people would treat me like I’m some kind of princess, but I’ll admit, it felt good back then. My dad was a well respected person and always spoke highly about his family. As I grew older and realized what my dad did for a living and who he was, I started to get a little embarrassed because people had high expectations for me since I am the “Pastor’s daughter.” It seems like I had to be the perfect daughter since some church members told their kids that I was an example to follow as a Christian child. [THESIS] I try to fit myself into the mold that my father’s life has created so that my life will form into a shape that will have an affect on others as well. [THESIS]

My dad, Jaime Castro Manera, Sr. was a Pastor and a humble follower of God. This short Filipino man always had a smile on his face that you would wonder if he was ever the type to get mad. I’ve seen him angry at his children for not listening, but never with other people. He always kept this calm demeanor because many people looked up to him. He was a role model and a leader. Although he had a monotone voice, it was soothing knowing that he spoke with wisdom. He used to say that his wisdom is seen by the grayish colored set of hairs that he had on his head. I didn’t see the use of plucking out the white hairs when he asked me to since they were all gray anyway.

He had a faith so huge that he entrusted God with everything. In times of happiness or sadness, he knew that this higher force was in control. He always said that with God, anything is possible and there was a plan behind every situation. Even with his health, he didn’t have a primary care physician because he believed his doctor was God. If he had symptoms of a cold, he would boil some water and ginger and drink that as his remedy. He claimed he was healthy even though he had this belly of an 8-month pregnant woman. My nephews would imitate him by putting a pillow under their shirt, but my dad would just make a joke of it and smash them with his tummy. My dad would find ways to make us laugh, but did it with a clean sense of humor because he really cared about how other people felt. I’ve never known of a time where he hurt someone’s feelings.

He was just a little over 5 feet tall, but had a heart of a giant. He went out of his way to help others and sometimes put his family aside to do that. He knew that we would understand his motives in helping people. To him, helping people made others see that he was a devout follower of God. He did anything to show that he had Christ in his heart. If we had a bible study on a school night and it was really late, he would still offer a ride to those who need it no matter how far they lived. It was hard to get mad at him for being nice, but when he was late (almost an hour) to pick me up from school and used the excuse “I’m sorry I’m late because I had to bring Nana and Tata Porlucas to their interview for their citizenship,” he always found a way to make it up to me. He would either bring me to McDonald’s or to a store of my choice and buy me something nice.

I couldn’t understand why he had so much patience helping others. If I had to drive someone around for a day, but they weren’t there at the time they said they were going to be there, I would just leave. My father never complained one bit. In fact, he used that time waiting to meet new people by starting up a simple conversation, “Hi! Are you Filipino? Oh what part of the Philippines are you from?” That conversation would eventually lead to an invitation from my dad to attend church the following Sunday. His vibrant character was hard to resist and was nothing compared to those regular Saturday morning door to door Jehovah’s Witnesses. The way he smiled made his flat fat nose flare which made him look like a familiar family friend instead of any other stranger.

No matter how much he had, he was willing to share or sometimes give it all away. If he had a plate lunch, but was bombarded by an unexpected friend visiting, he would offer his food even if it was only a little left. There were times where my dad just gave his food away and was left with an empty stomach, but a huge smile on his face to see that someone else was satisfied. Although my family’s income was mainly dependent on my mother’s since my dad didn’t make that much as a full time minister, he was still very giving. Nothing was too little for him to share with others. If he didn’t have money for lunch, he would pop open a can of Spam, put it in the microwave, and add some tomatoes. He lived an ordinary life, but managed to make remarkable differences.

When my father died in 2002, I felt like I lost a big piece of my life. The number of people that came to pay their last respects goes to show that my father, the pastor played many roles in these people’s lives. He inspired me to be a better person by sharing the message of hope and practicing it, and enforced the value of putting God first in everything that I do. My dad’s immense faith, spirit of serving others, and huge generosity made his life into a model that I want to follow. This model will help me to be successful in my career pathway that I am on right now.