ONE OF the most compelling parts of his message was when he talked about the courage to care deeply in an imperfect environment. That courage, he said, is not loud. It is the counselor who returns to a difficult case the next day even after feeling inadequate. It is the teacher who checks in on a withdrawn student despite having stacks of paperwork waiting. It is the health worker who reminds herself, “Kaya mo pa,” before stepping into another emotionally charged situation. These examples grounded the talk — not in abstract advocacy — but in the small, human decisions that quietly shape the lives of others.
What I appreciated most was the humility behind Sir Chris’ message. He did not position guidance counselors or mental health workers as the only people capable of care. Instead, he emphasized shared responsibility. Community resilience, he said, cannot rest on a single profession. It grows when people — teachers, parents, neighbors, barangay workers — become attentive to each other. In a place where mental health support is still uber thin and counselors are direly outnumbered, his reminder felt comforting rather than heavy. It means we do not need to carry everything alone.
Leaving the hall after his talk, I reflected on how “animus service” shows up in small ways in our own team at ISUFST. It is in the laughter that slices through long testing days. It is in colleagues offering snacks to lighten tense moments. It is in shared glances that say, “Kaya pa.” These moments do not solve structural problems, but they keep us human. Sir Chris’ talk helped me and many local PGCA seminar-workshop participants appreciate them more. He reminded us that relationships — not structures — often keep service compassionate.
By the end of the day, I realized that what Sir Chris offered was not a lecture but a conversation we all needed. A conversation about staying soft in a world that can harden us. About choosing presence even when solutions are unclear. About seeing people not as burdens, but as stories in progress. And about recognizing that our own stories matter too — that caring for others does not have to mean losing ourselves.
If anything, his talk affirmed something simple but profound: that the spirit to serve does not require grandeur. It requires sincerity. And when sincerity is paired with skill, boundaries, and a community that supports each other, helping work becomes less about being strong and more about being real. Perhaps that is the true courage Sir Chris was pointing us toward—not the courage to rescue everyone, but the courage to show up honestly, gently, and humanely, one person at a time.
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Doc H fondly describes himself as a ”student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with./PN
