Local celebrity Alfred
Vargas once recalled getting lost during his pilgrimage along the Camino de
Santiago, only to be ambushed by an irate German Shepherd. Expecting the worst,
he soon realized the dog wasn't attacking—it was actively guiding him back to
the trail. The animal was simply being true to its nature as a shepherd dog:
keeping the traveler from straying.
Like Alfred, I have known
the saving grace of being found and nudged back onto the right path. Few people
embodied that persistent, guiding presence quite like Msgr. Pedro C.
Frac—“Lolo” to those of us who knew him dearly—whose memory and legacy we now honor
as he lays at rest at St. Jude Thaddeus Parish in Kalibo.
When Lolo arrived in
Balete in August 1997, truckload of belongings in tow after twelve years of
service in Libacao, he stepped into a new assignment with immediate humility.
As convent boys hauled his things upstairs, the outgoing parish priest, Fr. Tito
Gelito, walked him through the established pastoral program. Lolo’s response
was simple and steadfast: “Don’t worry, Doy. I’ll support and continue the
program you have developed here.”
He made good on that
promise for seven fruitful years. But Lolo did not merely maintain; he built.
In his quiet, unassuming way, he proved to be a master community organizer and
animator. He strengthened the parish Pledge system, empowered Basic Ecclesial
Communities (BECs) to manage their own finances, and championed radical
transparency. He established Apdo, a monthly organ detailing every peso
of parish income and expenses, appointing me as its editor.
Serving as his scribe was
a front-row seat to his quiet genius. He forged international partnerships with
institutions like the University of Hohenheim to foster local development,
invited the Franciscan Sisters of the Immaculate Conception (SFIC) to establish
a footprint, secured funding from Kirche in Not for a new rectory, and
oversaw the completion of the San Rafael Parish Church. Under his watch, chapel
masses expanded from sporadic monthly visits to a steady weekly rhythm.
Through all this work,
Lolo was subtly mentoring me—teaching me his craft and shaping my character
without ever making it feel like a lesson. It called to mind the famous lines
of Francis Thompson’s The Hound of Heaven:
I fled Him, down the
nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the
arches of the years;
...From those strong
Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying
chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed,
majestic instancy,
They beat—and a Voice
beat
More instant than the
Feet—
‘All things betray
thee, who betrayest Me.’
In Thompson’s poem, the
"Hound" is not a threat, but the relentless, loving pursuit of
God—refusing to let us stay lost in the labyrinth of our own minds. Lolo was
precisely that kind of shepherd-hound in my life. He didn't bark or coerce; he
nudged with "deliberate speed" and unhurried grace. He saw potential
in me before I recognized it in myself, channeling my youth into purpose.
Like the pilgrim on the
Camino, I didn't always realize in the moment that I was being watched over,
formed, and directed by a steady hand. Now, as Lolo completes his earthly
pilgrimage, the trail feels quieter, but the path he laid out remains clear.
Rest well, Lolo. Thank you
for chasing after my potential when I was still wandering, and for showing us
all that the grace of God often reaches us through the quiet, relentless
devotion of a true shepherd.
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