In the Philippines, the start of May 2025 wasn’t as encouraging as we had hoped.

On May 1st, a highly anticipated holiday was overshadowed by devastating news. A multi-vehicle collision along the Subic-Clark-Tarlac Expressway claimed ten lives—including four children—and injured over 37 others. Social media was flooded with images and headlines. A toddler miraculously survived, but both his parents died.

Just days later, another heartbreaking incident made headlines: an SUV crashed into the Departure West Curbside Area of NAIA Terminal 1. Two people died, several were injured, and among those who lost their lives was a little girl who had just been sending off her OFW father.

These vehicular accidents in the Philippines broke my heart—not just because of the scale of loss, but because I saw them through the lens of a parent. A father who lost his daughter. A toddler who lost his mom and dad. Even though I didn’t personally know the victims, I felt the grief. It weighed heavily on me, especially as these tragedies happened just days before my birthday. Despite being thankful that my family is complete, my heart was mourning for the others who have lost loved ones.

I also found myself thinking of the families of the drivers involved in these fatal accidents. While I believe in accountability—especially when negligence is involved—I couldn’t help but imagine the heartbreak on their side too. Perhaps they were fathers or breadwinners, now facing the unimaginable consequences of a single, irreversible mistake.

As the days passed, a roller coaster of emotions overwhelmed me:

Grief for the lives lost.

Anger over what could have been prevented.

Questions about safety: Was the bus driver overworked? Were proper protocols followed?

And then, fear—what if something like this happens again? To someone I know? To me and my own family?

As a mom, I carry a constant, invisible load. The fear for our children’s safety adds even more weight.

And the instinctive response? Avoidance.
Let’s not plan long road trips for now.
Let’s not bring the kids.
Let’s stay home.

But as much as I want to shield my family from harm, I know that living in fear is not living fully. We can’t—and shouldn’t—raise our children in hiding. They deserve to explore, experience joy, and feel free.

I once read a quote by Corrie Ten Boom that stuck with me:

Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows. It empties today of its strength.

This quote reminds me of my tendency to waste my time and energy on something that is beyond my control. Worry doesn’t protect us—it drains us. It turns happy moments into anxious ones. It makes us less joyful and less present parents.

But I also refuse to view worry as an enemy. Instead, I see it as a reminder to stay mindful, not complacent. As mothers, our worry is often rooted in love. It reminds us to be cautious. To plan. To be aware. But it should never keep us from living.

The key is to find balance:
A space between “I’ve got this” and “I surrender this.”

Because while we do everything we can to protect our families—prepare, guide, teach—we must also trust. Trust that God is in control. Trust that He loves our children even more than we do. Trust that whatever we lack, He will supply.

To be the happy and present parents our children need us to be, we need to trust that our future and our little ones’ future are in the loving hands of the Creator. And we are here to enjoy the beauty of the present moment with them.