As morning slowly settles over the city, the streets come alive in waves of red and gold as devotees make their way toward the Basilica Minore del Santo Niño de Cebu for the opening day of the Novena Mass of the 461st Fiesta Señor. Amid the soft murmur of prayers and bowed heads, three young girls blend quietly into the moving crowd.

Francheska, Rhorynfi, and Mary, Grade 9 students from Cebu City National Science High School, chose to attend the first day of the Novena Mass together. Dressed in their school uniforms, they stood out gently among the sea of devotees with their pressed collars and swinging ID laces marking them as students.

Their presence felt deeply rooted, as if they had always belonged to this sacred morning ritual.

Every step they took towards the Basilica carried hopes and prayers that offered comfort, shaped by stories, habits, and traditions passed down by their parents, reminding the audience of faith's role in providing hope during difficult times.

For Rhorynfi, the Santo Niño stands as a personal symbol of hope, deeply intertwined with her family's story.

She recalled a time marked by fear and uncertainty, when her mother never stopped praying. Faced with complications during childbirth that led to Rhorynfi being born earlier than expected, her mother turned to the Santo Niño daily, holding tightly to the belief in healing.

"She would go to Santo Niño every day until I got better," Rhorynfi shared.

Day after day, the prayers continued—until her condition finally stabilized. That devotion stayed with her, as did her mother's quiet reassurance.

In moments when hope feels fragile, faith endures. "Even in times nga feel nimo wala na'y hope," she said, "just turn to Santo Niño."

For her, belief does not need to be loud. It is steady. It remains. Francheska grew up learning the same lesson. Faith was introduced early in her life—constant, simple, and reassuring. She was taught where to turn when life feels heavy, and who to speak to when words become difficult to say.

"If you have problems, you can go to Santo Niño and pray," she shared.

Some worries feel too overwhelming, too personal, or too difficult to explain. For Francheska, the Santo Niño becomes a quiet listener. "If your problems are extremely big, and you can't share [them] with your parents or your friends, you can share [them] with Santo Niño."

Mary shared the same belief, having grown up watching faith lived out at home through prayer and devotion. Her sentiments echoed those of her friends, as did her reason for being there.

Surrounded by strangers, the three remained unmistakably themselves—students in uniform, daughters shaped by their parents' prayers, friends bound by shared time and belief. Still young, yet firmly grounded. Still learning, yet already certain of where to return.

Together, their friendship and faith grew deeper, guided and sustained by a shared devotion to the Santo Niño—a testament to the enduring power of the three F's: friendship, family, and faith./Anly Faye Dublin (CNU Student Volunteer)

From the bustling city of Toledo, Editha and Raymundo, both 67, have long believed in the power of faith and answered prayers. Their story began with a simple yet heartfelt wish—to have a daughter.

Though they were blessed with five sons, the couple continued to pray for a child they had long hoped for.

“Sauna, kanang kami managtiayon kay ang among anak lima ka lalaki, dayon sige gyud ko’g pangandoy og babae,” Editha recalled.

When she became pregnant for the sixth time and was finally blessed with a daughter, Editha knew it was no coincidence; it was an answered prayer through the Santo Niño.

“Akong pag-ampo Niya natagaan ko og babae na anak, hantod karon nag-deboto jud gihapon mi Niya sukad sa among pagkaminyo,” she emphasized.

From then on, every Friday became sacred. The couple made it a lifelong commitment to pray the Holy Rosary and faithfully recite the novena of the Santo Niño—a promise of thanksgiving they continue to honor to this day.

But the answered prayer did not end there. Editha believes their devotion carried their family through the years. All six of their children finished their studies, an achievement she attributes not only to perseverance but also to divine guidance.

“Akong mga anak sad nakalampos na sa pag skwela tungod sa among [debosyon] ni Santo Niño,” she shared.

Today, their children are all grown—disciplined, grounded in strong values, and with families of their own. One son serves as a police officer, while their only daughter is now a teacher.

Editha does not pray for wealth or grand miracles. For her, good health, respectful children, and a peaceful home are more than enough.

“Kontento na kaayo ko sa mga blessings na Iyang gihatag sa amoa,”

she said.
Respect remains the foundation of their household—a living testament, she believes, that their prayers were not only heard but lovingly answered.

Although they are originally from Toledo City, Editha and Raymundo make it a point to visit Cebu City at least once during the Fiesta Señor, and whenever they have the chance.

Sharing the same steadfast faith, Raymundo believes that prayers offered with sincerity will always be answered.

“Salig lang, sa pag-sige lang namo og [ampo] ni Santo Niño ari sa Cebu, matuman man,” he shared./Giane Pilapil (CNU Student Volunteer)

While thousands come daily to the Basilica Minore del Santo Niño de Cebu to pray for miracles, Patricio O. Balberona, fondly known as Pat to his colleagues, offers one through quiet service: his time, his strength, and his unwavering faith.

At 73, his devotion continues to inspire those around him. For the past 24 years, he has served the Holy Church not as a paid guard but as the Head of the Basilica Pilgrim Assistant Volunteers (BPAV), proving that devotion does not fade with age but grows deeper with purpose.

His role is similar to that of security personnel, ensuring order and offering guidance to the thousands of devotees who visit the Basilica each day. Balberona leads 220 volunteers, a responsibility he carries with humility, patience, and care.

To him, leadership is never about authority. True service means expecting nothing in return. His devotion was shaped by a moment suspended between life and death.

In the year 2000, a sudden incident brought him to the brink when he was stabbed. As he was wheeled into the operating room, Balberona recalls seeing the face of the Holy Child, Señor Santo Niño.

In that moment, he entrusted his life to God and made a promise. If he were spared, he would dedicate his life to serving the Santo Niño.

"Kung Iya kung buhion, muserbisyo ko niya," he said.

By God's grace, he survived, and he kept his vow.

The following year, he walked into the Basilica with no connections and no position, carrying only a willing heart. He simply asked how he could help.

That single question marked the beginning of a lifetime of service. To Balberona, age is not a limitation but a blessing.

Service gives him joy, and faith keeps him steady. He believes the Santo Niño never turns away sincere prayers. Answers may not come immediately, but grace always finds its way.

"Si Señor Santo Niño di gyud na mudili. Kung naa kay pangayuon, dili diha diha dayon, pero mahibong na lang ka, ma-feel nimo."

Beyond the Basilica, Balberona is a devoted father of four, two daughters and two sons.

One of his sons now serves alongside him as a BPAV volunteer, continuing a legacy shaped by faith, sacrifice, and love.

As the celebration approaches, Balberona's prayer remains simple. He asks for strength, good health, and the chance to continue serving the Holy Child.

His life reminds us that devotion is not measured by age, but by love./Angela Sarabosing (CNU Student Volunteer)

Amid the vibrant rhythm of the Sinulog and the heartfelt prayers offered to the Señor Santo Niño de Cebu, one young woman stands quietly, anchored by deep, unwavering faith. She is Lanie Candelasa of Dipolog City, currently preparing for her upcoming board examination.

For many years, Lanie dreamed of joining the Sinulog celebration. Though she longed to be part of it, only now did she find both the time and the courage to come.

This year, her participation became more than a tradition; it became a personal act of faith and service to Señor Santo Niño, especially during a season when she seeks guidance most.

As she prepares for her board exam, Lanie faces moments of pressure and uncertainty. Yet even when she feels overwhelmed, she makes time for prayer.

"Wala gyud ko'y lain ginabuhat ug naa bitaw ko'y problema, wala gyud ko'y laing buhatunon kundi motawag lang kang Señor Santo Niño ug sa tanang santos," she shared.

Lanie believes that waiting for God's blessings does not mean remaining idle. Prayer must walk hand in hand with perseverance. This is her message to others who are also enduring seasons of waiting:

"Wala gyud ko’y lain maistorya sa inyo—inyong pagpaningkamot kuyogi gyud ninyo ug pagsampit sa Ginoo," she added.

Today, she lifts her most heartfelt prayer:

"Ang akong dakong gipangayo karon kay Señor Santo Niño na kuyogan ko niya sa akong pag-review ug sa umaabot nako nga board exam, unta one take lang," she said.

With Señor Santo Niño by her side, Lanie holds on to the belief that nothing is impossible./Regina De La Cerna (CNU Student Volunteer)

Before the Basilica wakes and before the crowd thickens and prayers begin to rise, Nanay Leonisa Lacio is already there, carefully arranging long candles one by one. Each flame she prepares carries a prayer, a hope, and a quiet devotion offered to the Holy Child, Señor Santo Niño de Cebu.

At 68, Nanay Leonisa's life is shaped by patience and constancy, rooted in her deep faith. For 36 years, since 1990, she has sold devotional candles outside the Basilica, viewing her work as an act of devotion.

Day after day, whether under the rain or the heat of the sun, she continues to show up, believing her faith sustains her. She arrives around 8:30 in the morning and stays until 3:00 in the afternoon, enduring traffic, long hours, and the uncertainty of the streets, all driven by her unwavering trust in the Santo Niño.

"Bisa’g uwan o init, maninda gihapon ko," she says.

For Nanay Leonisa, time is not measured by hours but by trust. As long as she comes, she believes the Holy Child will go too.

Each morning begins the same way.

"Inig abot nako diri, mu ingyon gyud ko, 'Señor, tinda sa ko karon. Tagae ko'g grasya diri, Señor, ha,'" she shares.

Even before she opens her bag, familiar faces begin to gather. These are her regular customers who buy long candles in bulk. To Nanay Leonisa, they are more than patrons; they are her community, offering her strength and purpose. When she has extra, she gives what she can. On days when her body feels heavy with age, and she thinks of resting, it is these same people who encourage her to keep going.

"Dili na unta ko maninda, pero mangita gyud sila nako ug patindahon ko," she adds with a soft laugh.

What she does is more than a way to earn a living. It is devotion made visible, especially during the Fiesta Señor, a vibrant celebration honoring the Santo Niño.

She sways the long candles in rhythm with the crowd, lifting prayers through fire and motion. Each gentle movement becomes a quiet testimony of perseverance, hope, and faith deeply rooted in Filipino culture and religious practice.

That same quiet faith has answered her own prayers in small yet deeply meaningful ways, reminding us that hope can be found in everyday moments.

One of the moments she remembers most clearly happened on her birthday. She asked the Señor for something simple.

"Señor, birthday baya nako ron, bisa’g makahalin lang ko'g dosientos," she prayed.

Later that afternoon, in the middle of the crowd, she noticed a folded bill on the ground right in front of her. No one else seemed to see it. When she picked it up and opened it, she froze. It was a 1,000-peso bill.

"Dosientos ra man unta akong gipangayo, pero sobra pa man ni sa imong gihatag nako, Señor," she recalls.

That evening, the blessing was shared. She treated her four children and four grandchildren to a simple meal. When they surprised her by singing her a birthday song, the weight of the day's grace finally reached her.

"Hilaka gyud nako ato," she says.

For Nanay Leonisa, blessings are never meant to be kept. Whatever she receives, whether from candle sales, senior citizen benefits, or local assistance, goes straight to her family.

"Akong madawat kay ihatag nako sa akong mga anak. Mao na nga pinangga kaayo ko nila," she shares.

These days, her prayers are simple. She asks for good health, the strength to continue selling candles, and safety for the family she loves.

Despite the hardships she faces, she considers herself rich in faith, showing resilience and quiet perseverance that can inspire others.

"Bisa’g pobre ko, makakaon gihapon mi og tulo ka beses sa usa ka adlaw kay mag ampo man ko sa Señor Santo Niño," she reflects.

As Fiesta Señor 2026 unfolds, thousands of candles will be lit, each one carrying a petition or a word of thanks. Some will burn quickly, others will glow through the night.

And outside the Basilica, Nanay Leonisa will still be there, selling her candles, offering her prayers, and trusting the same Señor Santo Niño. She remains a quiet reminder that faith, like a candle, does not need to be loud to keep burning./Erika Faith Labares (CNU student volunteer)

The chorus of the Gozos rang across the Pilgrim Center, echoing through the narrow space between the dagkutanan wall and the bathroom.

Harsh shafts of sunlight slipped through gaps in the canopy meant to offer shade. They caught the gilded crown of the image of Señor Santo Niño, which danced lightly in the hand of an elderly man seated near the entrance to the men's bathroom.

Beside him sat an elderly woman, both hands raised in prayer. Sweat beaded on their brows, darkening their shirts. This corner, cramped and exposed, faintly scented by the nearby bathroom, offered little refuge from the noontime heat.

This has been Tatay Ricadolfo's (Dolfing, 76) and Nanay Librada's (Libi, 71) place since the first day of the novena.

"Usahay init, pero mas lapit man gud. Para sad di siya maglisod pangita ug kaihian," Nanay Libi said after the Mass, her eyes gesturing toward Tatay Dolfing. He nodded, a quiet understanding passing between them. She knew. He knew she knew.

Out of consideration for him, she did not mind the constant rush of feet brushing past them, the prickly heat, or even the smell from the bathroom.

This intimacy of knowing, expressed not in words but in small and enduring acts, had weathered decades. It was forged through years of hardship, shared devotion, and faith.

Their meeting had been fortuitous. Nanay Libi worked at the counter of a company store where Tatay Dolfing, then a delivery truck driver, regularly stopped. His routes took him across western Visayas, and after long weeks on the road, he always found time to talk to her. Good conversations, they recalled, ones that led to marriage on January 31, 1973, and eventually to a modest home in Basak.

Their first child was born that same year. Since then, they have never missed a novena Mass. They can no longer recall what first sparked their devotion. Perhaps it was the blessing of a child, or a faith handed down by their parents. But they know what sustained it.

They are grateful to Santo Niño, they said, because they survived everything marriage placed in their path.

And there was much to endure.

They nearly lost their third child to rabies, the same child who would later grow into a wayward adult. In the early years of their marriage, Nanay Libi vomited blood for days on end. More recently, she suffered a mild stroke.

"Pag ampo ug pagsabot," Tatay Dolfing said when asked about the secret to a lasting marriage and enduring faith. "Di man na siguro sikreto. Kinahanglan lang pangatawhan pirme."

Their commitment remains visible in their novena prayers, in the way they return each day despite failing knees, brushes with death, a son who no longer listens, and the lingering effects of illness.

"Dili pirme matubag ang pag ampo," Tatay Dolfing added, "pero dili pasabot wa na nadungog ni Santo Niño."

He glanced at Nanay Libi, his eyes misting.

"Ang ako gi sige ampo ron," he said softly, "nga unta padayon na siyang maayo sa iyang stroke, makasulti na siya ug tarong balik, ug nga mabalik na unta sa Ginoo ang among anak."

Nanay Libi reached for Tatay's hand, the same hand that held the image of Santo Niño. He clasped hers in return. He loved her deeply. She knew.

"Kahibawo ra mi," he said again, his voice steady with conviction, "nga nadungog ra jud ni Santo Niño among mga gipangayo. Sukad sukad, wa jud mi niya pasagdi."

He spoke as if stating a simple truth, as if recalling a promise long kept.

Their faith mirrors their love. Nanay Libi's instinctive care for Tatay Dolfing, and Tatay Dolfing's selfless prayers for her healing. They trust that Santo Niño has their backs, just as they have had each other's for fifty-three years.

That intimacy, their intimacy, has been formed, broken, and formed again. On makeshift seats in a company store, in hospital beds, through a child's brush with death, and under the roof of their home. Even here, in a corner of the church where shade is scarce, the sun falls indiscriminately on aging brows and temples.

In the novenas to come, they promise to return to the same corner, offer the same consideration, whisper the same prayers, and renew the same vow. A vow to each other and to Santo Niño, kept for more than half a century./Mark Jairus Gilbuena (Media Centre volunteer)

On days when her body allows it, Janet Saya-ang makes her way to the Basilica—not only as a devotee, but as a woman living with cancer, quietly waiting before the Santo Niño.

Whenever a medical appointment brings her near the home of the Holy Child, she kneels in silence and offers her most earnest prayer: healing for herself and for her family.

A widow in her fifties from southern Cebu, Janet has been battling cancer since January 2023.

Since then, her life has been shaped by hospital visits for chemotherapy and long days at home caring for her ailing mother. These demands leave little room for long journeys or regular attendance at Mass in the Basilica.
p>Waiting, she says, has become part of her faith.

After completing her chemotherapy sessions last year, Janet entered a period of recovery—one she believes was an answer to prayers she had long carried in her heart.

"Gidungog jud ko ni Santo Niño," she shared. "Nagtuo jud ko nga ma-ayo ko kay Ginoo pud baya Siya—Bata lang."

Months later, however, another medical scan revealed a new tumor. And so, the waiting returned.

She admitted that the news was difficult to accept. At first, she shut herself in her room, withdrawing from everyone as she waited for answers to questions she herself struggled to understand.

Janet recalled questioning God, especially as she continued caring for her elderly mother and sick relatives.

"Of all, nganong ako?" she asked. "Nag-serve ko Niya. Nag-serve ko sa akong family."

Over time, prayer helped her come to terms with what she could not fully comprehend.

"Na-realize nako nga dawaton jud nako—ako man ang gitagaan sa Ginoo," she said.

"Malipayon ko nga maka-ambit ko sa sakripisyo, nga makigbahin ko sa kasakit sa Ginoo. Karon okay na ko—nadawat jud nako nga ing-ani ko: cancer patient ko."

Her devotion deepened in the waiting.

Despite strong medical advice to slow down, Janet continues to serve her family and remains active in church life whenever her strength permits. With the support of her family and the guidance of a priest-friend, she once again turned to prayer—through the rosary, Marian devotion, and her enduring trust in the Santo Niño. This time, not to ask for explanations, but for strength.

Ahead of her eighth chemotherapy session, which fell on the seventh day of the Novena Mass, Janet made her way to the Basilica gates to whisper her prayers.

This time, she prayed that the illness she believes runs in their family would end with her.

"Nagalaum gihapon ko kang Señor Santo Niño nga maayo ko—bisan kanus-a pa Niya ihatag," she said. "Dili ko mo-surrender."

Healing, Janet believes, will come in God's time. Until then, she waits in faith, entrusting every uncertain day to the Santo Niño.

Though her body lacks the strength to join the vast crowds of the Fiesta Señor, Janet remains steadfast—waiting between prayers,

believing that even in uncertainty, God is quietly at work./Reynan Monleon (CNU Student Volunteer)