Through Mary’s Hands
There are seasons in life that only make sense when you look back. This has been one of those seasons for me.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been amazed at how God quietly brought together what first seemed like unrelated moments. I didn’t notice it while I was living through them. I only began to see the pattern afterwards.
Like many Filipinos, I found myself watching the news, reading comments online, and seeing how divided people had become. There was so much anger, so much noise, and so many opinions that I often wondered what difference one ordinary person could possibly make.
The truth was, I couldn’t fix any of it. I couldn’t change people’s hearts. I couldn’t control the direction of the nation.
But I could pray.
So I decided to offer a 40-day fast for the Philippines.
I didn’t have any grand expectations. I simply wanted to place my small sacrifice before God and trust Him to do what I never could.
The following day, I hosted a prayer meeting in my small apartment. During the gathering we opened the Scriptures, and the reading happened to be Psalm 120.
Most people probably saw it as the assigned passage for the evening. I did too, at first. But as we reflected on it, something settled quietly within me. I felt as though the Lord was reassuring me that I had begun exactly where He wanted me to begin. There was no dramatic revelation.
A few days later, while mindlessly scrolling through TikTok, another unexpected invitation appeared.
Someone was talking about the 33 Days to Morning Glory, Fr. Michael Gaitley’s retreat for Marian consecration. Out of curiosity I searched for the schedule. One of the recommended starting dates was July 13.
The consecration would end on the Solemnity of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary on August 15.
I remember smiling when I realized the dates fit almost perfectly inside my 40-day fast. It felt as though two completely separate journeys had quietly become one.
At first I couldn’t afford the ebook. I only had access to sample pages, so I prayed with whatever was available and trusted that if God truly wanted me to continue, He would provide a way.
Eventually, I was able to purchase the book and continue the retreat without interruption.
Looking back, what amazes me isn’t that any of these events were extraordinary on their own. It was how naturally they unfolded. One small “yes” seemed to lead to another, and only after several weeks did I realize they were all pointing me toward the same invitation.
On the 19th day of my fast, the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe from Mexico visited our archdiocese.
I’ve always known that millions of pilgrims travel to Mexico to pray before her miraculous tilma. Never did I imagine that, in the middle of this journey of prayer and Marian consecration, she would come to our archdiocese instead.
Perhaps some would call it a coincidence. Looking back, I simply couldn’t. The more I looked back on everything that had happened over those weeks, the more it seemed as though God had been gently preparing me, encouraging me one step at a time. Just as I was learning to entrust myself more completely to Mary, He allowed me to encounter her under one of her most beloved titles.
One of the reflections in 33 Days to Morning Glory that has stayed with me is St. Maximilian Kolbe’s invitation to place even the merits of our prayers, sacrifices, and good works into Mary’s hands. Instead of deciding where those graces should go, we entrust them to her because she sees far more clearly than we do. She knows who needs them most, and she distributes them according to God’s will.
I’ll admit that this challenged me. Whenever I fast or make sacrifices, I naturally think of particular people I want to pray for. Yet Marian consecration invites us to trust that Our Lady, united perfectly with her Son, can use even those hidden sacrifices more fruitfully than we ever could.
Another prayer from the consecration asks Mary to make us her instruments so that Christ may reign more fully in the world and triumph over the works of the evil one. I’ve found myself returning to that prayer often because it has changed the way I see both this fast and Helping Hands Davao. Perhaps God isn’t simply asking me to do good things. Perhaps He’s teaching me to become available so that, through Mary’s guidance, even the smallest acts of service can become part of His work of drawing people back to Himself.
Months earlier, I’d been developing Helping Hands Davao as a business idea. I wanted it to help people, but I also hoped it could become another source of income. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, yet as the weeks of prayer went by, I noticed my perspective shifting. I became less interested in asking how the project could earn money and more interested in whether it could simply become a way to serve.
I never woke up one morning and decided to change the whole concept. The desire just faded little by little until I finally accepted that this wasn’t meant to be another business venture. On the 17th day of my fast, I created the Helping Hands Davao Facebook community without knowing whether anyone would join. I didn’t have a detailed plan or a polished launch. I simply felt it was time to begin.
The more I prayed that prayer, the more I noticed people crossing my path. Some needed financial help. Others simply needed encouragement or someone willing to listen. None of those encounters seemed extraordinary by themselves, but taken together they made me wonder whether this was what it really meant to become an instrument of God’s love. Perhaps being an instrument isn’t about constantly looking for opportunities to do good. Perhaps it’s about becoming available enough for God to place those opportunities in front of us.
That realization has changed the way I look at Helping Hands Davao. I still hope it becomes a place where volunteers and people in need can find one another, but now I also see something deeper. Maybe God has already prepared those encounters long before either person realizes it. Maybe every act of service is also an invitation to encounter Christ in someone else.
