As we prepared to leave for Medellin that morning, I could not shake the heavy feeling in my chest. News about the earthquake that struck northern Cebu had flooded social media, showing faces of fear, loss, and uncertainty. I realized that this was not just another volunteer activity—it was a call to respond with compassion. The stories I read online no longer felt distant; they were now real, and we were about to meet the people behind them. Though unsure of what awaited us, I was certain that this was a moment to turn empathy into action—to serve with both hands and heart.
In the days leading up to our departure, we spent October 2 and 3 repacking relief goods at the hall. The place buzzed with movement and purpose as we sealed food packs, folded tarpaulins, and stacked boxes for distribution. Despite our tired hands and sleepless eyes, everyone worked with quiet determination. Each bag we packed carried more than rice or canned goods—it carried messages of compassion and hope from those who cared. Even in the simplest gestures, like offering water or sharing laughter amid exhaustion, I saw how kindness could bind people together in ways no calamity could ever destroy.
When we finally reached Medellin on October 4, the reality of the disaster unfolded before my eyes. Houses were cracked and roofless, and families stayed beneath makeshift shelters, trying their best to remain strong despite the pain. The sight was heartbreaking, yet their resilience stood out. Together with the Rotaract Club of Cebu Fuente and the 53rd Philippine Army Engineering Brigade, we distributed relief goods and materials to help families rebuild their homes. It was an exhausting day, but every smile we received felt like a reward far greater than any rest we could take.
I will never forget the mother who hugged the relief pack I handed her, saying, “Salamat, Ma’am. God bless.” Her soft voice and bright smile showed that even in loss, the human spirit can still shine. Her words echoed in my heart as I realized how meaningful it was to be part of something that brings comfort to others. At that moment, I understood that service is not measured by what we give, but by the love and sincerity we put into every act of helping.
That day in Medellin taught me that service is more than giving—it is about being present when others are in pain. It is about turning empathy into genuine action and reminding people that they are not alone. The experience strengthened my belief that hope can be rebuilt through compassion, and that unity, when grounded in love, can heal even the deepest wounds. True service, I learned, is not just an act—it is a promise to carry hope wherever it is needed most.
