https://seriousmd.com/doc/roselo-alagase

Journey2Life, Guadalupe (2025)

14/11/2025

𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐨

In times of disaster, it is rare to find individuals willing to risk everything for the sake of others. Yet, amid the relentless floods brought by Typhoon Tino, a 15-year-old boy from Liloan, Cebu showed the world that true courage is not measured by age.
Jayboy Magdadaro did not hesitate for a moment to confront danger head-on. Armed with nothing more than a small boat, he spent nearly an entire day braving chest-deep floodwaters, paddling tirelessly, and wading through strong currents to rescue 55 residents trapped inside their homes. His actions were a testament to a heart driven by compassion and an unyielding sense of duty to his fellow human beings.
“Even though the water was strong, I kept helping because I could hear people screaming for help,” Jayboy said. His words, though simple, carry immense weight, reflecting a spirit willing to put others before himself, a selflessness often rare even among adults.
The extraordinary bravery of this young hero did not go unnoticed. Recognizing his courage and selflessness, Barangay Captain Atty. Daniel Francis Arguedo awarded Jayboy a full scholarship covering all college expenses, along with a ₱3,000 monthly allowance. This scholarship allows Jayboy to pursue any course he wishes at any university in the country, a fitting reward for a young life dedicated to the service of others.
“The courage Jayboy has shown goes far beyond what his age would suggest,” said the barangay captain. “He is an inspiration, a reminder that our youth can possess hearts filled with heroism, compassion, and integrity.”
Jayboy’s courage was not only a product of his determination but also of his skills and hobbies. As an avid skimboarder, he developed physical strength, balance, and endurance, abilities that proved invaluable while navigating the treacherous floodwaters. What began as a recreational passion became a lifeline for his neighbors in peril.
In every wave and in every gust of the storm, there are stories of quiet heroism. Yet, few shine as brightly as Jayboy’s. His actions remind us that the true strength of Filipinos lies not only in resilience but in the hearts of the youth who know how to love, to care, and to rise bravely in the face of danger.
Jayboy Magdadaro’s story is more than a tale of bravery, it is a beacon of hope, a symbol of courage, and a testament to the enduring Filipino spirit. We salute you, Jayboy Magdadaro, the Heroic Skimboarder of Liloan, whose courage and compassion illuminate the path for others to follow.

CTTO

03/11/2025

“𝑨 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑬𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.”

During a quiet university lecture, Professor Sydney Engelberg was teaching with calm passion in front of an attentive classroom.

Suddenly, the persistent cries of a baby broke the silence. The child, held in the arms of his mother—a young student sitting at the back of the room—immediately drew everyone’s attention. The woman, visibly embarrassed, stood up intending to leave so as not to disturb the class further.

But something unexpected happened. Before the mother could reach the door, Professor Engelberg briefly paused his lecture, calmly walked over, and without saying a word, took the baby into his arms. He then returned to the front of the class and resumed teaching as if nothing had happened, gently cradling the child against his chest. He showed no annoyance, offered no explanations, and made no mention of any rules about children in the classroom.

The students, surprised, watched the scene with awe and deep admiration. They later recounted that the lesson continued with the same clarity and precision as always, while the professor held the baby. It wasn’t an isolated act: Engelberg was already known at the university for his sensitivity toward student-mothers, whom he welcomed into his courses with respect and understanding. He allowed them to breastfeed in class, to bring their children with them, and to care for them without ever making them feel like a burden.

His words, often quoted by his students, conveyed a profound vision: “A mother should never be forced to choose between motherhood and education. Educating a mother is an investment in the entire nation.”

The photograph of that simple yet powerful gesture spread across the world, becoming a tangible symbol of inclusion, respect, and humanity. For many, that was the most important lesson: to educate also means to welcome. And a classroom can be the very first place to learn what it truly means to be human.

( Credit Unknown: If you are the creator, please contact us for proper credit or removal. )

26/10/2025

🌿 𝐆𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥 𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (Luke 18:9–14)
“For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”

In today’s Gospel, Jesus gives us a powerful reminder about the kind of heart God sees and blesses. Two men enter the same temple—one boasts of his righteousness, the other confesses his unworthiness. Both pray, but only one leaves justified.

The Pharisee talks about himself to God.
The tax collector opens his heart to God.

The Pharisee lists his accomplishments.
The tax collector admits his need for mercy.

The Pharisee trusts in his own goodness.
The tax collector trusts in God’s goodness.

Sometimes we may feel like the Pharisee—wanting to prove we are worthy, strong, and holy enough. But Jesus gently reminds us: It is not our achievements that save us, but God’s grace.

The most beautiful prayer is not the most eloquent—but the most honest.

We are closest to God not when we stand tall with pride,but when we bow low in truth.

Today, God invites us to come before Him with a humble heart. To acknowledge our weaknesses not with shame, but with trust—because God’s mercy is bigger than any failure.

Humility is not thinking less of ourselves…
It is recognizing how much we need God.

May we learn to pray like the tax collector:
“Lord, have mercy on me, for I am a sinner in need of Your love.”

And when we pray that way,
we too will go home justified, lifted up by the God who exalts the humble.

02/08/2025

The roar of 80,000 voices thundered through the Olympic stadium. Cameras flashed like lightning. On the podium, Maya Reyes stood draped in the American flag, a gold medal around her neck, tears on her cheeks. Years of sweat, injury, and relentless training had led to this moment—first place in women’s gymnastics, the final floor routine of her career.

The national anthem swelled around her, but Maya’s eyes weren’t on the flag. She was scanning the crowd. Searching.

After the ceremony, as reporters swarmed and questions flew—“What does this mean to you?” “Who do you want to thank?”—Maya offered only a smile and a soft, “There’s someone I need to find.”

While her teammates went to interviews and photo ops, Maya slipped away. She ducked through corridors and service tunnels, walked past roaring fans and bewildered volunteers. Her destination wasn’t a green room or media tent.

It was Section 312, Row H.
Sitting near the edge of the row, quietly clapping with wrinkled hands, was Miss Evelyn Carter—retired middle school janitor.
“Miss Carter,” Maya whispered. The old woman looked up, surprised. Then her eyes widened.
“Maya?”

The athlete dropped to one knee, pulled the gold medal from around her neck, and gently placed it into Miss Carter’s lap.
“You gave me my first mat,” Maya said, her voice trembling. “When I had no gear, no gym, and no way to pay for lessons—you cleared out a supply closet and let me practice on old wrestling pads.”

Miss Carter blinked, stunned.
“I just remember you always staying late,” she said. “Didn’t realize I was building a champion.” “No,” Maya said. “You built a kid who believed someone cared.”

Behind them, a fan caught the moment on their phone—a world-famous gymnast kneeling before a janitor in the nosebleeds, offering her medal. The image hit the internet within minutes. By dawn, was trending globally.

What the world didn’t know—until later—was the truth behind Miss Carter’s quiet sacrifice.

That closet gym? Miss Carter had risked her job to let Maya use it. She bought the pads herself after overhearing that Maya’s family couldn’t afford lessons. And she’d done it all while battling a cancer diagnosis she never spoke of, choosing to spend her energy giving Maya a place to fly.

When a journalist tracked her down days later, Miss Carter finally said something.

“She thought I saved her dream,” she whispered. “But the truth is, watching her kept me going. I wasn’t building a gymnast. I was building a reason to believe in tomorrow.”

At a press event a week later, when Maya was asked if she regretted giving away her only gold medal, she smiled, pulled something from her pocket, and held it up.

It was a worn brass key—old, dented, engraved faintly with the number “112.” A janitor’s master key. “She gave me this once,” Maya said. “Said, ‘You’ll need it to unlock your dreams.’ I’m keeping this forever.”

The stadium went silent.
Because in the end, it wasn’t the medal that mattered—it was the door that had once been quietly opened.

And the final whispered words Maya said to Miss Carter, as the stadium roared behind them, became the quote etched into the statue later built in both their honor:
“You held the door. I just walked through.”

CTTO

27/07/2025

Ask. Seek. Knock

15/07/2025

UP GRADUATE GIVES HEARTFELT SPEECH

“Sana Hindi N’yo Na Lang Ako Pinanganak”
(A Graduation Speech That Shook the Nation)

In a society that romanticizes resilience but often overlooks the pain that fuels it, the graduation post of Jaynard, a Magna Cum Laude Chemical Engineering graduate from the University of the Philippines Los Baños.was not just a story. It was a mirror. A cry. A plea for understanding.

"Sana hindi n’yo na lang ako pinanganak."

It is a sentence that cuts deep, not just for parents, but for anyone who has ever questioned their place in this world. Jaynard’s post didn’t go viral because it was sensational. It resonated because it was real.

•Growing Up with Dreams Bigger Than Circumstances
Jaynard grew up in a home filled with love but void of luxury, comfort, or even stability. His parents were hardworking, his father juggling every job he could find and his mother taking on multiple roles just to put food on the table. Yet, love does not erase hunger. It does not pay tuition. It cannot silence the questions a young mind asks when it sees his peers eating full meals while he and his brother split a single egg, fighting silently over who got the yolk.

He excelled in school, not because it was easy, but because it was the only way out. He believed in education the way some people believe in miracles. But hope is heavy when it’s carried alone.

The sadness in his words is not rooted in hate or ingratitude, but in exhaustion. In the relentless burden of being the family’s hope. Of constantly sacrificing one’s own desires just to survive just to make meaning of the suffering.

•When Childhood is a Battlefield
At only 11, Jaynard had his first taste of deep emotional despair. A simple request to ride with his friends during a local fiesta was denied due to lack of money. A child’s innocent wish turned into a bitter reminder of poverty’s grip. It wasn’t just about the ride; it was about being reminded, again, that they didn’t have enough. That he didn’t have enough.

That night, he uttered it for the first time: “Sana hindi n’yo na lang ako pinanganak.”

To some, this may sound ungrateful. But to those who have known poverty intimately, it’s not about blaming your parents. It’s about the heartbreak of knowing they’ve given everything, and still, it’s not enough.

•Even in College: Hunger, Guilt, and a Heavy Crown
Fast forward to UP scholarships, stipends, and a title: “Iskolar ng Bayan.” But while he bore that title with pride, he also bore the weight of unpaid debts, of siblings still in need, of bills piling up. His allowance, instead of covering his daily needs, was sent home. His stomach empty, his mind tired, he whispered those painful words again.

In those moments, he didn’t hate his parents, he hurt for them. He grieved not only for his own struggles, but for the dreams his parents never got to chase. What if his father had become the engineer? What if his mother, brilliant and ambitious, had finished college and become a professional?

“Don’t Let Your Child Be Like Me.”
This wasn’t a message of bitterness. It was a warning.

“Parenthood isn’t just about love,” Jaynard stressed. “It’s about readiness.”

He wasn’t condemning his parents. He was confronting a cycle, a system where people bring life into the world out of pressure, tradition, or accident, without the resources to truly nurture it. Where poverty births more poverty. Where children grow up carrying not just their own burdens, but the dreams and debts of the generation before them.

•To future parents, he had a powerful message: Think. Wait. Prepare. Don’t have a child simply because “it’s time” or “everyone else does.” Ask: Can I give them a life where they don’t have to choose between eating and studying? Where they don’t have to feel guilty for existing?

•And Yet, Love Endures
Despite the pain, Jaynard never stopped loving his parents. His story is filled with longing for a better life, not just for himself but for them. When his mother responded publicly, affirming her love and pride for her son, it was a full-circle moment.

She had no regrets. Her child, despite the odds, had become someone extraordinary. And that, perhaps, was worth everything.

•To the Silent Fighters: You Are Not Alone
To every student who skipped meals to buy school supplies. To every eldest child who became second parent. To every dreamer forced to grow up too soon:

Your pain is valid. Your journey is hard. But you are not alone.

As Jaynard said, “Living in poverty is no joke. But let’s not lose hope.”

Let us dream of a world where no child has to justify their birth. Where being born poor doesn’t mean being born doomed. Let us break the cycle, through compassion, through accountability, through readiness.

So that one day, no child will ever have to say,
“Sana hindi n’yo na lang ako pinanganak.”

And instead say,
“Salamat, dahil kahit mahirap, hindi ninyo ako pinabayaan.”

May this story spark not just empathy, but action. Toward a future where every child is a choice, a blessing, and a promise fulfilled.

-GalawangFrancisco

•In Photo: Jaynard, a Magna Cum Laude Chemical Engineering graduate from the University of the Philippines Los Baños

13/07/2025

"𝐆𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐞"

11/07/2025

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐭: 𝐀 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞

I am the youngest of eleven siblings—five brothers and five sisters. Sadly, two of my siblings passed away, one due to illness and the other by su***de. Many of them were bright and full of potential but lacked the opportunity to pursue formal education.

My father was both a tailor and a farmer—a well-known tailor in our community. He had a lively personality, often spending time drinking 𝘛𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘺 rum with his friends. Whenever he got drunk, his loud voice would echo throughout the neighborhood. Though our ears had grown accustomed to it, his presence was always felt.

My mother, a quiet yet strong presence, is the light of my life. She instilled in me the right values and encouraged me to always do what is right.

From a young age, I learned to take initiative to earn money. I used to fetch water for neighbors in exchange for a small amount of money. That was my first taste of responsibility and independence.
When I was about to enter elementary school, my sister accompanied me to enroll at Anonang Norte Elementary School in Bogo City, Cebu. I walked to school every day. Each morning, I would wake up early to cut grass for our two cows. After school, I returned to the fields to gather more. I studied at Anonang Norte until Grade 4, then transferred to La Paz Elementary School for personal reasons. Most of my siblings graduated from Anonang. I may not have been the smartest student, but I was diligent. My routine was school and work, and during weekends and summers, I helped my family taking care with the cows and worked on the sugarcane plantation—even at a young age. The cows we tended belonged to a relative, Inday Vic Alagase.

After elementary, I wasn't sure where to attend high school, as there were few public schools nearby. I prayed that one would open in our barangay—and indeed, La Paz National High School was established. I enrolled there and continued my routine of waking early to cut grass and catch a free ride with my brother on a sugarcane truck to school.

Weekends and holidays were spent in the fields with my brother Ondo Tali, helping from cutting grass to harvesting sugarcane—under the sun or in the rain. For those who have worked in sugarcane plantations, you would understand the hardship. Name any farm task—I’ve done it. The cows we cared for helped our family make ends meet.

Despite these challenges, I finished high school with flying colors.
After high school, I couldn't go to college right away. I worked in Danao City at Tokyo Hardware, then assisted my brother in Mandaue with his baking business while taking care of my nephews—who are now professionals themselves. At 18, I moved to Buhisan, Cebu City, and worked at Metro Gaisano. Despite having no backers or strong connections, I got hired by Metro Gaisano (VicSal Corporation). When that job ended, I worked at Colonnade Supermarket.

Meanwhile, my former high school classmates were already in their second year of college. During my days off, I would go to National Bookstore in Ayala and Mango Avenue to read materials for college entrance exams. I applied to CNU and USJR and passed both. I chose Cebu Normal University (CNU), a state university, and went home to Bogo City to inform my parents of my plan to study. My mother is very supportive of my decision.

At CNU, I pursued a Bachelor of Science in Biology. I studied by day and worked by night as a part-time bagger at Metro Gaisano – Colon. My father sewed my college uniforms—just as he did in my elementary years. His work was so durable that I never experienced a single tear.

I would go straight from class to work, often taunted by my OIC for my un-ironed uniform. I remained silent, choosing grace over confrontation. Later, I explained I was a working student—and from then on, she understood and treated me with kindness.

I worked part-time from 6:00 PM to 10:00 PM because I wanted to finish college. Though tuition was minimal, it was not free. I sometimes wrote promissory notes. Eventually, I received a scholarship during the term of Congressman Martinez and Cong. Salimbangon. Still, the funds didn’t arrive on time, so I continued working—at Chowking SM Cebu and as a tutor for Korean students.

College was no easy ride. It was filled with hard work, sleepless nights, and sacrifice. After graduation, I worked as a medical representative, but my heart wasn’t in it. I eventually found purpose teaching biology and chemistry at Royal Oaks International School. During my free time, I volunteered teaching street boys in Colon—a mission close to the heart of the Society of the Divine Word (SVD), which serves the poor and marginalized.

This mission awakened something deeper in me. After prayer and discernment, I decided to enter religious life. I didn’t renew my teaching contract and followed my heart into the SVD as a Brother candidate.

The SVD offers two vocations: as a Priest (performing sacraments) and as a Brother (sanctifying the Church through professional work such as being a teacher, doctor, nurse, architect, etc.). My formation included:
• 1 year Associate Program in Cebu for professionals
• 1 year Postulancy Program in Tagaytay City (psycho-spiritual formation)
• 1 year Novitiate Program in Calapan City, Oriental Mindoro (spiritual formation)

Afterward, I returned to Cebu and pursued a Master’s degree at Seminario Mayor de San Carlos. Upon completion, I wrote to my Superior expressing my desire to study Medicine. Miraculously, my request was granted.

Despite being under formation and aware of how expensive medical school is, the Society supported me fully. Their belief in me was unwavering, and after years of sleepless nights and countless sacrifices, that support bore fruit.

In 2024, I passed the Physician Licensure Examination.
Today, I proudly say: I am now a licensed medical doctor.

This journey is proof that the Divine Word became flesh and dwelt among us. Thanks be to God!

To the Society of the Divine Word, former Provincial Superior Fr. Jingjong Eduardo Rocha SVD, current Provincial Superior Fr. Roger Bag-ao SVD, the SVD Brothers, teachers, formators, SVD Crusaders, family, relatives, and all my friends near and far Brendan Walls, Bishop Peter Johnson, Stephen Pierce, Fr Bill Rickle and SJ friends, Pastor Reg Weeks & Diane Gilliam-Weeks, Rev Scott Martin, Charles A. Mulik, Fr Steve Coffey—thank you so much for shaping the person I am today.

My story isn’t mine alone—and it’s never meant to boast. It’s a tribute to every student striving to stay in school, every worker enduring long, tiring days, and every dreamer holding on in the face of life’s hardships. This is for all of you.

Don’t lose heart. You never know how far grit, gratitude, determination, kindness, and unwavering faith in God can take you.

If you can relate to my story, what title would you give it?
Feel free to type your answer below.

Journey2Life

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