Grace carried me through every season.
These are the chapters that shaped me and the grace that carried me through.
This is my story.
There are chapters in life that we plan. And there are chapters we never would have chosen to write.
My story has both.
I grew up in the Philippines, where my family, faith, and community played a big role in my life. We always came together to share food and stories. When I moved to the United States, I brought those values and dreams with me, and they continue to shape who I am today.
I have always loved people.
I love family. I love serving others. I love cooking and preparing food for the people around me. There is something about bringing people together around a table that has always felt special to me. I love family. I love serving others. I love cooking and preparing food for the people around me. There is something about bringing people together around a table that has always felt special to me.
For many years, I also found purpose in caring for others.
I never imagined that one day, I would find myself needing to learn how to receive care instead of always being the one giving it.
The chapter I never expected
In May 2016, my life changed in a way I never saw coming, and it completely changed my life.
I was diagnosed with cancer.
Suddenly, the plans I had for my life looked very different.
My healthcare career was disrupted. My strength was tested. My days became filled with treatments, appointments,
uncertainty, and questions I didn’t always have answers for.
There were days when I felt sick and weak.
There were days when I wondered what the future would look like.
There were financial worries and medical bills that added another layer of stress to an already difficult season.
And there were moments when I simply had to say:
“Lord, I’m struggling to make sense of things, but I’m reaching out to You, because I need Your guidance and comfort.”
I wish I could say that I walked through that season with perfect faith.
I didn’t.
There were difficult days. Questions and moments of fear and uncertainty.
But I learned something important:
Faith doesn’t mean you never struggle.
Sometimes faith is simply choosing to hold on when you don’t have all the answers.
Walking through the valley.
Cancer changed my perspective on life. It made me slow down and made me appreciate things I once considered ordinary.
A quiet morning.
A meal with family.
A conversation.
A laugh.
A day when I felt strong enough to do something I hadn’t been able to do before.
I began to understand that life isn’t only found in the big moments. It is also found in the smallest ones. And it’s in those quiet everyday moments that we catch a glimpse of God at work.
I learned that God doesn’t always remove the valley immediately. He walks through it with us.
There were things I couldn’t control and things I couldn’t understand.
But I keep praying, believing, and keep on taking one day at a time. And eventually, I began to see something I hadn’t recognized before.
Grace.
Grace in the middle of it.
I used to think grace would look like everything getting better. But during that season, I began to understand that grace could meet me long before my circumstances changed.
It came through the people who prayed for me, checked on me, sat beside me, and reminded me that I wasn’t walking alone. It came in unexpected moments of peace, in strength I didn’t know I had, and in the simple gift of waking up to another day.
There were still hard days. There were still questions without answers. But little by little, I stopped looking only for the miracle at the end of the journey and began noticing the grace God was giving me right in the middle of it.
That’s something I still carry with me today.
Grace doesn’t always wait for the storm to pass. Sometimes it meets us right there in the rain.
What surviving had taught me.
Surviving changed the way I look at life.
I learned that tomorrow is never promised, and that some of life’s greatest gifts are often hidden in the moments we once considered ordinary—a morning cup of coffee, a meal shared with people we love, laughter around the table, or simply waking up to another day.
I learned that strength doesn’t always look like being brave. Sometimes strength is allowing yourself to rest. Sometimes it’s asking for help. Sometimes it’s trusting God when you can’t see what comes next.
Most of all, I learned that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful.
There are still scars, questions, and things I would never have chosen. But there is also deeper gratitude, stronger faith, and a greater appreciation for the grace tucked inside everyday life.
I don’t want to rush past the ordinary anymore. I’ve learned that the ordinary is often where the hallelujahs are hiding.🌿
Why Honest Hallelujah
After everything I’ve experienced, I wanted a place where faith could be honest. Not polished, not perfect, not pretending. It’s real and raw. Because real life isn’t always easy, and faith isn’t always certain, and grace doesn’t require perfection.
That’s where the name Honest Hallelujah came from.
My hallelujah is loud and joyful. Other times it’s quiet and simple:
“Thank You, God, for getting me through today.”
I’ve learned that you don’t have to wait for everything to be perfect before you praise God. You can find something to be always grateful for right in the middle of the mess. That, for me is an honest hallelujah.
This Is Still My Story
I don’t consider my story finished. I am still learning what God wants me to know. I am still growing and asking questions. There are chapters behind me that I wouldn’t choose to repeat, but I wouldn’t erase them either.
These chapters shaped me, taught me compassion, patience, and to slow down, and to appreciate the ordinary occurrences in my everyday life.
What I’ve learned is that God can show up in our lives when we least expect it, in places we never thought we’d find Him. In the hospital during my treatments, in the kitchen when I cook meals for my loved ones, around the dinner table where we talk about God’s goodness and mercy. God shows up in the quiet mornings, in the middle of a difficult day, and sometimes in the simple realization that we are here, still breathing, hoping, believing, and looking forward to what tomorrow brings.
My Honest Hallelujah
If there’s one thing that I really want to leave you with, it’s this:
You don’t have to have a perfect life to have a beautiful story.
Your difficult chapter isn’t necessarily the end. Your unanswered prayer isn’t proof that God has forgotten you. Your weakness doesn’t make you less valuable. And your mess doesn’t disqualify you from grace.
Sometimes the most meaningful stories are written in the places we never wanted to be. My cancer journey became a chapter I never expected. It was a time when I found out what grace really means, in a way that I never thought possible.
And today, I am grateful.
Grateful for life, and for family.
I’m thankful for the loved ones God has brought into my life; they’re a blessing to me, and I feel grateful for their presence. I am grateful for the ability to serve Him and the people that He has brought into my life. I am grateful for ordinary mornings and simple meals. I am grateful for the lessons that I learned during my difficult seasons. And also grateful that my story isn’t over yet.
So if you’re walking through something difficult right now, I hope you’ll stay awhile.
Sit with me.
Let’s talk about life, faith, and grace. Let’s reflect on what He is teaching us every day during our messy ordinary life. Let’s remind one another that grace is sufficient in all our weaknesses.
And when we don’t know what else to say, maybe we can simply say:
Hallelujah.
Not because everything is perfect. But because God is still good.
Welcome to Honest Hallelujah.
Real Life. Real Faith. Real Grace.
Pull up a chair. There’s room at His table. 
You don't have to have a perfect life to have a beautiful story.🌿
Come as you are. Pull up a chair.
There is always room at His Table. 🤍
A Little Grace For Your Inbox
A quiet note of faith, encouragement, and grace – sent from my heart to your inbox.
Come, sit at the table. There’s always room for you here.
