Santa Barbara | February 21, 2026

There were only six of them in the room that morning in Santa Barbara—four from the LGU, one from the business sector, and one from the CSO/Youth. Small in number, yes. But sometimes, six honest hearts are louder than a crowd.

The reflection centered on Gospel of Luke 5:27–32—when Jesus called Levi, the tax collector. A man many judged. A man many avoided. Yet Jesus sat at his table.

That Gospel feels uncomfortably relevant.

Because ICW Kamustahan is not a gathering of perfect people. It is a gathering of people in progress.

And perhaps that is the point.

“Those who are well do not need a doctor.”

The verse reminds us that growth happens where there is honesty about weakness. Governance, community work, even livelihood projects—these are not built by flawless people. They are built by people willing to admit they are tired, frustrated, hopeful, and still trying.

The theme that day was the different colors of the heart.

Batchoy chose all the colors. “I feel everything,” he admitted. “Happy because you’re all here. But before coming, I felt down.”

He spoke about the mushroom project—the dream that once grew beautifully but slowly slowed down. Not because of failure. But because life happened. “Even if we all have different lives, don’t cut communication,” he repeated. “Just continue.” 

There was something raw in that plea. Not anger. Not blame. Just longing.

A simple truth echoed in the room: “Dreams do not die dramatically. They fade quietly when communication fades.” Yet he still believes. He still prays. “Lord, where are You leading us?”

That question is not weakness. It is faith looking for direction.

Captain Annabel chose a white heart.  Peace. She shared candidly about her health, about stress, about conversations with her doctor. “Mapadalagan ka pa, Kapitan?” the doctor asked.

She smiled. Maybe she will run again. Maybe she won’t. But one thing was clear: she will not commit halfway. “If I cannot give 100 percent, I will not promise.”

That is leadership with boundaries. And sometimes, protecting your health is also public service.

Barangay Kagawad Christy chose white and orange—gratitude and anxiety. “I may not always be visible, but I’m still here.”

How many people in organizations feel that way? Present but quiet. Committed but unseen. And yet, silent faithfulness holds more projects together than loud enthusiasm ever could.

Miss Nove chose white and yellow—gratitude and opportunity. Career doors are opening. But so are pressures. The group gently told her: “Choose where you will be happy. That is where your purpose lives.”

Success without joy is just exhaustion with better lighting.

Barangay Kagawad Devine chose white. She traveled far just to attend. Worried about expenses. Searching for income for tuition. Taking pictures during travels—not for leisure, but as proof of hustle.

Her honesty grounded everyone. Community work sounds noble until you remember people still have bills to pay. “Sometimes I feel hopeless,” she said. And yet she showed up.

Hope is not loud. Sometimes hope is just attendance.

Julroy chose red—hope. “As long as the mushroom lives, there is hope.” He spoke of value chains, documentation, networks. Of patience and timing. Of not forcing things. “If blessings are forced, they don’t last. The right ones come at the right time.”

Wisdom rarely shouts. It settles.

A Grounded Reflection

What struck me most was this: the Gospel that day was not about religious perfection. It was about inclusion. About sitting at tables with people in need of healing.

ICW Kamustahan felt like that table. Not everyone is strong. Not everyone is sure. Some are tired. Some are dreaming again. Some are scared about health. Some about finances. Some about fading projects.

And yet, they gathered. 

Governance, livelihood, tri-fold concerns, mushroom projects—these are frameworks. But underneath frameworks are hearts.

Different colors. Same table. Perhaps Baganihan governance, like faith, is less about flawless execution and more about faithful presence.

Because in the end: “Unity is not the absence of struggle. It is the decision to stay connected despite it.”

Six participants.
Many emotions.
One shared hope.

And maybe that is enough—for now.