The Movement of Gratitude

By Chantal Jade V. Tolores

KALIBO, Aklan- In the vibrant streets of Kalibo, a movement exists to share a vision—a vision where every act of kindness, no matter how small, has the power to touch countless lives. From the bustling towns to the remotest barangays, the Movement of Gratitude poured their hearts into projects that uplifted the marginalized, educated the youth, and provided solace to the weary.

Volunteerism is not merely an act but a way of life. It is waking up and deciding that someone else’s life matters just as much as your own. It is looking at the world and choosing hope instead of helplessness. And nowhere is that hope more alive than in the projects and people behind the Movement.

To Make A Difference

Launched by the passionate efforts of Kalibo Councilor Matt Aaron Peren Guzman and the dedicated Maria Solita Zaldivar-Guzman, this initiative casts a path for countless individuals seeking to make a difference.

For many years, this devoted couple has infused their hearts into a myriad of outreach programs—making a difference in their community. Among their initiatives are the Raven Book Drive, which nurtures young readers by providing access to books, and the Adopt A Day Care Project, ensuring that children in need receive the care they deserve.

During the festive season, their Christmas Shoe Box with Love Project initiative brings joy to countless children, filling hand-wrapped boxes with toys, clothing, and essential items.

Their commitment extends beyond special projects—they regularly host free summer sports clinics, exhilarating basketball tournaments, and community feedings, where neighbors come together to share meals and camaraderie. They also engage in tree plantings, fostering a greener environment and generous gift-giving that bridges the gap for those facing challenging times.

Volunteerism as a Way of Life

When the COVID-19 pandemic struck in 2020, they rose to the occasion with initiatives like Milk Giving Project and Be a Blessing and Share Your Blessing Project, delivering milk to families in need. They have purchased 200 boxes, with almost 1,500 recipients, by encouraging community members to share their resources and kindness.

These are people who show up—not for money, not for fame—but because their hearts won’t let them look away. What began as a call to serve has evolved into a community of people who believe that every single life is worth fighting for.

The Movement doesn’t wait for perfect conditions to act.

Even in hardship, joy has a role to play. Through Project Play, they created joyful, trauma-sensitive spaces where children could be children again. In places still healing from disaster or weighed down by poverty, laughter became the loudest rebellion against despair.

The Guzmans and their team of volunteers have nurtured literacy, early childhood care, and the spirit of giving.

Meanwhile, the Malikhaing Gawa Project distributes activity booklets to children in development centers and public schools, inspiring creativity and sparking imagination. I remember one volunteer saying, “When you hand a child a crayon and a piece of paper, you are handing them a future.”

These are not isolated miracles. They are everyday moments made possible by hands that choose to serve.

More Than Good Deeds

And then there were the newborn kits dubbed Project Tatap—simple, essential bundles delivered to mothers who had little more than their own will to survive. For many, it was the only support they would receive. They offered words of comfort and gently assured, “You are not alone or forgotten.”

A mother, still healing from the trauma of childbirth, held her newborn tightly against her chest, feeling the soft warmth of the tiny body nestled against her. With tears of both exhaustion and joy glistening in her eyes, she leaned down and whispered, “Salamat.” (Thank you.)

Another mother, after receiving a kit following a complicated delivery, said through tears, “Akala ko po mag-isa ako. Pero dumating kayo.” (I thought I was alone. But then you came.)

She thought she was alone—but then the Movement arrived.

You see, gratitude is more than an emotion; it is a bond between the giver and the receiver that builds community. That is the miracle of volunteerism— it arrives when people need it most, often in the form of someone they’ve never met.

Not Charity, but Solidarity

In a world too often overcome by apathy, choosing to serve is a radical act. Volunteerism is not just charity—it is a form of solidarity. It is the understanding that the pain of another is our pain, too, and their joy is our joy.

One young man, a first-time volunteer in the Movement’s outreach, said, “I went in thinking I would change lives. What I didn’t expect is that mine would be the one transformed.”

That is the beauty of volunteerism—it renews both the giver and the receiver. It softens hearts, awakens empathy, and reminds us what it means to be fully human.

I once asked a young volunteer from the Movement why she joined. She told me, “Because someone once showed up for me. Now it’s my turn.”

That’s the cycle we must nurture—a ripple effect of kindness that extends far beyond ourselves. Every person who receives help today becomes the giver of hope tomorrow. This is not charity. This is solidarity. And this is how nations are built—not just with laws or infrastructure, but with compassion.

Gratitude is what turns heartbreak into healing, strangers into neighbors, and intentions into action. The volunteers who pack kits, facilitate play sessions, and walk with communities during times of grief are not just participants, they are essential contributors. They are witnesses. Witnesses to the truth that a nation can heal itself through the hands and hearts of its people.

Gratitude That Grows

Many of us find ourselves grappling with wonder—where can we find that glimmer of hope? Who will courageously lead us through the thick, obscuring shadows that threaten to engulf us? But what if the answer has been within our grasp all along, hidden in plain sight? What if the future we dream of—one filled with laughter, warmth, and connection—depends not on legendary heroes descending from the clouds but instead on our willingness to take meaningful action right here and now?

So, if you’ve ever wondered whether you are needed, you are. It’s easy to feel powerless in the face of overwhelming need. However, the Movement reminds us that we don’t need to have much to give a great deal of gratitude.

As they often say, “Kahit simpleng tulong, basta mula sa puso, malaki ang naitutulong.” (Even a simple help, as long as it comes from the heart, makes a big difference.)

A small act, done with great love, can ripple across an entire community.

Gratitude is a Verb

I recall the story of Jean, a single mother from Brgy. Andagao, who, after losing her home to a typhoon, found shelter and hope through the efforts of dedicated volunteers. Or young Earl from Brgy. Tinigaw, who, with the guidance of mentors, discovered his passion for teaching and now educates children in his community.

Or think of Lito and Susa, first-time parents overwhelmed by the challenges of parenthood. Receiving a newborn kit not only provided them with essential items but also a sense of community support, reminding them that they are not alone in their journey.

These narratives are testaments to the profound impact of volunteerism. Because gratitude is not just a feeling—it is a verb.

When we carry each other, we have the nation. That’s the truth behind every campaign, every outreach, every kindness extended through the Movement. And it’s not about saving people—it’s about walking beside them. It’s about building relationships, not transactions. It’s about creating spaces where people feel safe, valued, and empowered to rise again.

Imagine if more of us lived this way. Imagine if every barangay had five people committed to volunteering once a week. Imagine if gratitude wasn’t just a feeling but a movement in every town and city. We stop waiting for heroes and become one.

Gratitude is a Philosophy

Our ancestors knew this spirit as Bayanihan—the act of coming together for the greater good. Today, volunteerism is bayanihan in the hearts that care. No longer confined to carrying houses or planting rice fields, it now appears in health missions, school clean-ups, mental health support, disaster response, and, yes, even play-based therapy for children.

And yet, as grand as some of these efforts may seem, they are rooted in the smallest gestures. It is in the malasakit—these are the seeds of transformation, and when planted together, they create forests of hope.

The Movement doesn’t ask you to move mountains. They ask you to move your heart—to step into someone’s life and say, “You matter.” And when that message is delivered again and again, with authenticity and persistence, it becomes impossible to ignore.

Because, in the end, the true strength of a nation is not in its wealth but in its people. And when our people choose to serve—not out of obligation, but out of love—no challenge is too great.