My daughter and I landed in the Philippines a few years ago to visit and spend time with my family. As always, with any trip we take, I made sure to bring my camera.

Four weeks into our six-week vacation, I realized I’d only taken a handful of photos.

It’s not that there isn’t beauty to capture—there’s plenty. The high-rise buildings, the sprawling malls, the vibrant colors of jeepneys weaving through traffic—these are the images you often see on social media. The sights and sounds of my birth country have changed so much over the years.

Yet, somehow, I’ve found myself drawn to something else.

Not the architecture. Not the tourist spots.

But the people.

Especially those working on the streets.

I’ve always known Filipinos to be hardworking and resilient, but this time, it feels like I’m seeing them with new eyes.

The man selling roasted corn from a small cart, the mother balancing trays of snacks on her head, weaving through traffic without fear. The young boy selling bottled water under the blazing sun. The jeepney driver with a ready smile, though he’s been behind the wheel since dawn.

They sell anything they can think of—out on the streets, in all weather conditions, braving dangers that many of us would never risk. And yet, there’s a quiet dignity in the way they work. No fanfare, no complaints. Just the determination to provide for their families.

It makes me realize how little room I have to complain about how hard I think my job is.

Filipinos are incredibly innovative. They don’t wait for someone else to solve their problems. They create opportunities where none seem to exist. They find a way—not just to survive, but to live with enthusiasm, in spite of the difficulties.

I’ve lived in the U.S. for twenty-two years now. I love the country that welcomed me, and I’m grateful for the opportunities it gives. Like many Filipinos abroad, I work hard for those blessings.

But being home reminds me of something important—gratitude changes how we show up in life. I see people here with far fewer resources than many of us have, yet they meet each day with perseverance, resourcefulness, and hope.

And it makes me wonder:

What if we all lived that way?

What if we learned to look beyond what we lack and focused on what we can do?

What if, instead of measuring life by ease and comfort, we measured it by how we rise to meet its challenges?

Maybe then, our days would feel fuller. Our work would feel more meaningful. And our hearts—like the hearts of the people I’ve been watching—would learn the quiet joy of choosing not to be defeated by hardship.

Because sometimes, the most inspiring pictures are the ones we don’t take with our cameras… but with our hearts.

Until next time,