Hala akong mga gamit!

When the strong earthquake struck this morning, only one thought crossed my mind: Masayang akong mga gipundar. What if everything I’ve built, bought, and saved for — the things I worked hard for, even borrowed money for — turned to dust beneath the shaking ground?

I didn’t think of my own safety. Although I prayed, I didn’t pray to be spared. My first thought was of my belongings. And that realization unsettled me more than the earthquake itself.

Does this mean I am materialistic? Have I placed more value on possessions than on life — the very gift of God that others cry out to preserve in moments of danger?

Perhaps not entirely. Perhaps this reaction reveals something deeper: the weight of striving. When we work hard for every little thing — for a place to live, for comfort, for a sense of stability — we inevitably attach part of ourselves to what we have built. Every object becomes a symbol of sacrifice: of long nights, withheld pleasures, small victories. Losing them feels like losing a part of ourselves.

Yet the quake reminds me how fragile everything is — and how quickly the things we value can fall away. In that fragility lies a sacred invitation: to loosen our grip. To remember that no matter how much we’ve built, we own nothing permanently. What endures is not what we have secured, but what we have surrendered — our trust in God who steadies us when the ground moves beneath our feet.

Today I pray not only for safety, but for detachment — for a heart that treasures more the Giver than the gifts. Because when the earth shakes again, I hope that my first thought will no longer be masayang akong mga gipundar, but Salamat, Ginoo, kay buhi pa ko.