Yesterday, my son spotted an elderly photographer in the park and asked for a photo. We’ll call him Lolo.
Lolo wore a warm smile, black-rimmed eyeglasses, a denim vest, a fisherman’s hat, and two digital SLR cameras around his neck. Lolo charged 50 pesos—less than a dollar—per photo. After we paid, he asked us to wait in the park while he printed our pictures.
My husband hesitated, skeptical if Lolo would return. But I said, “Batangas ‘to,” reassuring myself of the trust we’ve found in Batangas City, our home for over five years now. It’s not blind trust, but a belief in the good woven into the community, rooted in God’s guidance. I wanted to support Lolo’s work—he wasn’t begging; he was offering a service.
While waiting, my son raced around the park, turned a concrete slope into a slide and played with other kids. I met three moms, exchanged short stories of family and faith—connections I’d have missed if we’d rushed home after our hospital visit.
The sun dipped low, and the church bells of the Minor Basilica of the Immaculate Conception rang for the Angelus (6:00 PM). Doubt crept in. Was my husband right? I prayed silently, trusting God, that Lolo would return.
One mom reassured me that Lolo’s a local; he also took their pictures a while back. My son, sweaty and thirsty, sat beside me. My husband nodded toward the car. I repeated, “Batangas ‘to,” holding onto faith.
After a few more minutes, Lolo returned, handing us our photos in brown envelopes. My son blurted, “Where were you, Mr. Photographer?” Lolo chuckled. I saw how he took pride in his work and asked his name—Emil, he said, hesitantly. “Thank you, Sir Emil,” I said, texting him gratitude. His face lit up. Using his name made him feel seen, just as God sees us.
Batangas may not be perfect, but it’s relatively safe*, with trust running deep like roots in good soil. We can talk to strangers in the park—not fearfully, but wisely, with God’s discernment.
As we train our kids, let’s take notice of people’s kindness, honor the elderly, and see the good in people. Let’s also remind our kids to always check with us before conversing with strangers. Using someone’s name—like Lolo Emil’s—builds bridges. It shows they matter. Try it: say a cashier’s or server’s name, share a smile, and trust our Heavenly Father’s care.
Batangas ‘to—or as the locals would say, “Batangas a-reh!”
*Looking for stats and facts? For the latest data or report on crime rates in the Philippines, you may check here or here.
ancore! 