Heart of the fiesta
She could not afford a full spread, but she prepared a simple pancit dish and placed it outside her home with a handwritten sign. By midday, the dish was gone.
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She could not afford a full spread, but she prepared a simple pancit dish and placed it outside her home with a handwritten sign. By midday, the dish was gone.
Fiesta season arrives each May in Las Piñas City like a familiar song: steady, warm and deeply rooted in who we are. It is a time when the rhythm of daily life softens to make space for something more meaningful: community. From our barangay officials to our parish priests, from church volunteers to the simplest families opening their homes, everyone prepares not just for celebration, but for connection.
Growing up, fiestas were never just about food on the table. They were about the extra chair pulled out for a neighbor, the unexpected visitor welcomed without hesitation, the quiet understanding that no one should go home hungry. Even today, you see mothers waking before sunrise to prepare dishes not only for their families but for others who may drop by. There is generosity in every pot stirred, every plate served, every smile shared across the table.
I recently heard a story from a barangay volunteer who, despite having very little, still found a way to make a contribution during last year’s fiesta. She could not afford a full spread, but she prepared a simple pancit dish and placed it outside her home with a handwritten sign: “Para sa kahit sinong gusto makisalo” (For whoever wants a share).” By midday, the dish was gone — not out of abundance, but because of her willingness to share what she had. That, to me, is the true spirit of fiesta.
In another part of the city, a group of young people organized a small feeding program alongside the celebrations. Instead of focusing only on the festivities, they chose to include street children who often watched from the sidelines. They pooled their allowances, cooked together, and made sure that the children felt seen, included, and valued. It was not a grand gesture, but it was deeply human.
These stories remind us that generosity is not measured by how much we give, but by how much love we put into giving. At a time when life can feel fast and transactional, fiestas ground us. They remind us that our heritage is not just about tradition; it is compassion in action.
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As we prepare for this year’s celebrations, may we look beyond decoration and presentation. May we ask ourselves: Who can we invite? Who might need a place at our table? Who have we overlooked? Because sometimes, the most meaningful part of a fiesta is not what is displayed, but what is quietly shared.
Scripture reminds us in Acts 20:35: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” This verse continues to live through our fiestas — not in grand displays, but in simple, sincere acts of kindness.
In Las Piñas, the tradition lives on. Not just in celebration, but in every generous heart willing to make space for others.
