The morning after the announcement, the world was still echoing with the words Habemus Papam. Inside the vast halls of the Apostolic Palace, Pope Benedict XVII — once the quiet boy Thomas — stood before a window overlooking St. Peter's Basilica.
The square below was still filled with pilgrims.
He placed his hand gently over his chest.
"Lord," he whispered, "teach me how to serve."
The white cassock he wore felt heavier than he had imagined — not because of its fabric, but because of what it represented.
Responsibility.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Your Holiness," said a Vatican aide, "your first meeting is ready."
Thomas turned slowly.
For a moment, he remembered waking up in Argentina, Calauag, hearing the ocean waves, and helping his father prepare for the day. Now, he was here — at the center of the Catholic Church.
"Thank you," he said calmly.
A Different Kind of Power
Inside the meeting room, cardinals from around the world greeted him respectfully. Some bowed. Others kissed his ring.
But Thomas felt uneasy.
He gently lifted one elderly cardinal before he could kneel.
"Please," Pope Benedict XVII said kindly, "let us walk together as brothers."
The room fell silent for a moment.
It was a simple gesture — but it spoke louder than any speech.
The First Decision
Later that day, reports were brought to him — conflicts between nations, poverty in distant countries, disasters that left thousands without homes.
The weight of the world seemed to rest on his desk.
"What should be our priority, Your Holiness?" one advisor asked.
Thomas paused.
He remembered his mother Olivia, telling him to lift others up.He remembered his father Alvin, teaching him quiet strength.He remembered Father Felipe, reminding him that leadership is service.
He looked up.
"The poor," he said firmly. "We begin with those who suffer the most."
The advisors nodded.
A direction had been set.
A Visit Without Announcement
That evening, instead of resting, Pope Benedict XVII made an unexpected request.
"I want to go out," he said.
"Out… Your Holiness?" the aide asked, confused.
"Yes," he replied. "Without cameras."
Under simple clothing and minimal escort, he visited a small shelter just outside the Vatican walls. Refugees, the homeless, and the forgotten gathered there.
A child approached him.
"Are you a priest?" the boy asked.
Thomas smiled gently.
"Yes," he answered. "I am."
He sat beside them, listening to their stories, holding their hands, and sharing a simple meal.
In that quiet moment, he felt something familiar.
Peace.
A Letter Home
That night, back in his room, he sat at a desk and began to write.
Dear Mama Olivia and Papa Alvin,Today, I began my first day as Pope. But in my heart, I am still your son.I remembered everything you taught me — faith, humility, and love.I promise to serve, not to be served.
He paused, then added one more line:
Please continue praying for me.
He folded the letter carefully.
The Shepherd Begins
As the lights of Vatican City dimmed, Pope Benedict XVII stood once more by the window.
The crowd had gone.
The square was quiet.
But his mission had only just begun.
He was no longer just Thomas, the boy with a dream.
He was now a shepherd to millions.
And deep inside, he knew:
The journey was not about wearing white.
It was about carrying the hearts of others.