One morning, I woke up and felt the sun shining down on my face. Oh, how beautiful this life is. What a wonderful world, I told myself.

However, at the back of my mind lies the disappoinment at how messed up reality is.

On my way back to work from the hospital, I saw those children, reaching out their tiny hands for alms, and I controlled myself not to spare any. That sounds ironic, doesn't it? Here, at the comfort of a chair and a fan to quench the summer heat, I write about my empathy towards them, but when I do get the chance to prove my desire to help, I don't do it. You ask why, and here is my reply.

Dependency. I do not wish to make a difference by becoming someone they could depend on for short-term results. My dream is to see them become independent individuals, ready to face the world with all the knowledge and heart to succeed. I wish for them to know that God exists and there is hope amidst all the brutality, cruelty and injustice. Unfortunately, I have no power to do these things now. Still, I do not want them to rely on people throwing them coins, and having them believe that that is the best they could do. For goodness' sake, these children should be in school...but understanding that their families have no money for that, I curse under my breath how the government fails to take good care of its people.

My heart breaks knowing how helpless I am now...but I do value patience, and I know that in God's own time, there is much I could do.

These sentiments I have for these children have been hidden from my parents for a long time. I remember telling my mother that I wanted to celebrate my debut at an orphanage near our house. She gave me this confused stare, and told me that was ridiculous, and that was that. Since then, I never brought up the subject.

Up until recently, I was surprised at what my mother said. I think that by now, she understands the plea of my heart, of how much I want to share what I have with those children who have none, but can have a colorful future if only they were given the opportunity.

Me: Ma, does anybody still live in the house next to ours?
Mom: I'm not sure. The owner isn't in the country anymore, and only the caretaker's left. Why?
Me: I want to buy it someday.
Mom: Sige...tapos patayuan mo ng orphanage.

It almost made me cry hearing her say that, and with no tone of mockery in her voice...just the sincerity of hoping my dreams would come true.