God Is In Control
The Flood was an act of God’s mercy. Some people wonder about the justice of God in sending the Flood to “destroy man” (Genesis 6:5–13). Elder Neal A. Maxwell explained that at the time of the Flood, “corruption had reached an agency-destroying point that spirits could not, in justice, be sent here” (We Will Prove Them Herewith [1982], 58).
Come Follow Me, Old Testament 2026
My mom couldn’t believe what she had just heard when she went to collect payment for the six containers of apa from Tiyong Banong, their sole client in Naga. It was supposed to be their highest-grossing day of the year. Naga was celebrating its biggest fiesta when thousands gathered to honor the Black Nazarene.
Instead, she was told, “Sorry, none of the ice cream vendors used your apa. You can pick them up when you can.”
She left empty-handed.
She was so shaken she thought she might faint. I remember that early morning well. Sometimes I went with her to collect payments so we could go to the market afterward. That day, we walked through the dark streets of Naga. She was clearly distraught. I didn’t fully understand what had happened, but I knew enough to sense that we were in trouble.
That was the day my parents’ apa business ended. It was September 1990. I was ten years old.
The world shifted in an instant. It felt stark and uncertain. I kept wondering what would happen to us, how my parents would manage to support our family.
There had been warning signs, though none suggested the end would come so suddenly. Months earlier, my parents had begun looking for other sources of income. I went with my mother to the city market to sell vegetables and bananas for a very small profit. We would wake before dawn to go to Calabanga, buying produce in bulk to resell at the Naga Market. Once, a police officer confiscated her vegetables because she was selling in an unauthorized spot.
Relatives tried to help my father find work—one position as a checker at a construction company, another at a coconut plantation, and another tending a fishpond. Each job would have required him to be away for months at a time, leaving my mother alone with three young children.
They were desperate, but they refused to separate the family.
They leaned on prayer and faith. Somehow, they believed it would work out.
A few days after the fiesta, a surprise visitor arrived. My mother’s distant cousin came to Bombon without any prior notice. This was before cell phones were common. There were no public telephones in Bombon then; to make a call, you had to take a 30-minute jeepney ride to Naga. Her visit caught us off guard, but it was warmly welcomed.
Ate Gina arrived with news from Manila after a 14-hour train ride to Naga. The ice cream factory where she worked needed a new set of apa makers. She and her husband, Kuya Daniel, had been making apa, but Kuya Daniel wanted to change jobs and sell ice cream instead. The factory owner would not agree to the switch unless they could find replacements.
My parents were the replacements.
What she didn’t realize was that her visit was the answer to my parents’ prayers. For us, it felt like a miracle.
The Lord knew the end from the beginning. He had a plan.
God intended for us to move to Manila. Education, I believe, was at the center of that plan. Everything unfolded as it needed to. My parents always looked forward to the fiesta, but that year, for reasons we did not understand, none of the sorbeteros used their apa. They all chose factory-made cones instead. It had never happened before.
It happened because there was a greater purpose.
Had we not moved to Manila, I would not have earned an engineering degree at TUP. The original plan was for me to remain in the province with my father’s younger sister, who was studying at a university while working as an assistant and companion to a wealthy educator. That was meant to be my path.
But life unfolded differently. Doors opened—not only for me, but for my siblings as well. We all finished college and now hold stable, comfortable jobs, far removed from the kind of work our parents once did to keep our family afloat.
Engineering programs in Naga were offered only at private schools. We were too poor to afford that.
But God’s plan was larger than ours.
A civil engineering degree eventually opened the door for me to work in the United States. That, too, is a story or miracles. The U.S. grants H1B visas to specialty professions, including engineers. Looking back now, after so many unlikely turns, it is clear to me that the Lord was guiding every step.
He was, and is, the architect of my life.
From being the eldest daughter of uneducated parents to becoming a senior civil engineer at one of the largest solar utility consulting firms in the United States—by ordinary measures, the path seems improbable.
Yet here I am.
I have been given the opportunity—and the ability—to support my family in the Philippines. I am deeply grateful for the life I live and for the many blessings I now hold: family, education, a comfortable home, and the continuing chance to learn and to serve others.
Many events in our lives are not what they first appear to be. That morning, when my mother and I returned home from Naga empty-handed, felt like a disaster. Moving to Manila had never been part of my parents’ dreams. It was beyond anything they imagined.
But something outside our control created a compelling reason to leave.
What looked like loss was, in fact, direction.
What felt like failure was preparation.
When life grows dark and uncertain, may we hold on to faith. May we remember that not everything is as it appears, especially for those who trust in God and rely on Him and His Son, Jesus Christ.