By DR. MELODY GARCIA
Ambassador of Global Civility and Goodwill
LIFE UNSCRIPTED

This is the first of a three-part series chronicling my Southeast Asia tour — a sacred journey of divine appointment, nation-shifting conversations, and the restoration of a promise delayed, but never denied. And it begins where my soul first learned to weep and worship, the Philippines. Some journeys are not carefully mapped. hey are orchestrated by a divine hand. Some returns are not rooted in nostalgia, but in sacred necessity. And some stories, especially the ones birthed in trauma become the most undeniable testimonies of God’s redemption. This was mine.

I left the Philippines in 1989. Not with graduation leis or send-off parties. I left in fear. We were a family thrust into survival mode after political corruption turned our lives upside down. A member of our household, someone who lived with us, was murdered. I was too young to process it fully, but I remember the shift. The air changed. The atmosphere grew heavy. Death threats soon followed. My parents frantically packed suitcases. We packed prayers. We didn’t walk toward a future. We ran for our lives. We disappeared from the only home I had ever known and started life in the United States, leaving everything and everyone behind with no goodbyes.

But God. He never forgets. And when He authors the return, He does it with full-circle restoration that silences every lie of the enemy. A Return Crowned in Authority.

Thirty-four years later, I stood on that same soil, not as a refugee of circumstance, but as a recipient of the TOP 50 Global Women of Impact and Influence, the hosting country? Philippines. I came back with a history of proven achievements of what my life had become and this time returning as a woman with the title of Ambassador of Global Civility and Goodwill. A woman forged in the fire and refined by grace. What brought me home was an international award. What awaited me was something no title could explain, the unmistakable hand of God writing each divine encounter.

I was welcomed with honor, keynoted with searing messages about corruption and service to humanity and found myself seated in meetings the First Lady of the Philippines, a Consul General Department of Foreign Affairs, being invited to connect and meet with one of the Supreme Court Justices and several other invitations. I didn’t need to knock on doors. They opened. Why? Because when heaven commissions a journey, no earthly gate can stay closed. These were not just appointments. These were reversals. These were holy rebuttals to every moment I questioned whether God saw us in our suffering. The very places my family once feared became the places where my voice now spoke.

When Beauty and Brokenness Breathe Side by Side And yet even among the highest honors, I was reminded that the true test of a soul is not how it performs in palaces, but how it responds in the streets.

I had specifically requested that the US delegation we brought visit a place called Tondo, a place often described as one of the most impoverished in the country. Their daily conditions were devastating, families living shoulder to shoulder in unthinkable environments, what I witnessed was also sacred: resilience, laughter in lack, children still chasing joy. They didn’t ask me for money, they didn’t beg. Mountains of trash, deplorable and gross conditions surrounded these families but you saw the resilience, the hope, the joy and the welcoming smiles and the contrast was so significant it hurt. But perhaps the most piercing moment came in seeing little children STILL laboring the streets in different cities such as Manila, San Carlos and surrounding areas. These children, some no older than eight were selling handmade flower leis into the late hours of the night. Some barefoot. Some alone. All too familiar with hunger. These were not simply flower sellers. These were souls trading innocence for survival.

During our visit, Mark and I came across an unforgettable scene an 11-year-old boy, in full school uniform, passed out outside a Wendy’s at 1:00 a.m. His hands clutching unsold flowers and we gently woke him and asked if he was hungry. He nodded yes, so we got him food. As he ate, he shared his story. He works from 5:00 p.m. to 5:00 a.m. selling flower garlands to afford public school and care for his sick grandmother. At 6:00 a.m., he takes a bus to school, finishes by noon, travels an hour home, sleeps, does homework and begins again. My heart shattered in a thousand silent cries. Because no child should ever have to earn their right to rest. And yet here they were hidden in plain sight. It is these realities that must move us beyond titles and into transformation. It is in these streets, not the stages, that we are measured. The Glory and Grace of the Filipino People And yet, amid the grief, I fell in love again, deeply, humbly with my birthland.

The beauty of the Philippines is not just its geography, though it is breathtaking in areas that have won the visibility of tourism. I stood on the beaches of Bataan, where the wind carries the prayers of generations. I returned to Baguio City, the beloved City of Pines, where my childhood memories whispered back to me through cool mountain air and the scent of rain on stone. I witnessed the everevolving heartbeat of Manila, rising from its own ashes with ambition and audacity. But what captured me most… was the people.

The Filipino spirit is unmatched, so gracious it disarms even the most hardened soul. We are a people who honor with every gesture, who serve with every smile. There is a depth of humility, an instinctive generosity, and a sacred gratitude embedded in the DNA of our culture.

You leave the Philippines with your suitcase full not of things, but of love.

SACRED REUNIONS AND KINGDOM COLLABORATIONS

This journey brought with it gifts only heaven could coordinate. I was reunited with childhood friends, some who remembered the girl I was, and now celebrated the woman I’ve become. I stood face to face with my former vocal teacher, the one who coached me when I didn’t yet know the power of my own voice.

And in divine timing, I was connected to new collaborators, including the visionary RJ Evangelista, Founder and CEO of Radiantz Manufacturing Corporation and Paragon Manufacturing. A man of brilliance, strategy, and purpose. What began as a connection became a conduit of bringing me to my home city and being able to fulfill a 20- year old promise.

A PROMISE FULFILLED AT MY FATHER’S GRAVE

No pilgrimage home would have been complete without fulfilling a 20-year promise. to visit my father’s final resting place. And so I stood before his grave, not weeping out of regret, but of reverence. I whispered, “I’m back, Dad. And I did it in fullness.”

THE RETURN OF A WOMAN WHO ONCE DISAPPEARED

To understand what this homecoming meant, you must first understand what absence cost. For years, I lived in the tension of silence, my voice sharpened by advocacy, yet haunted by the sudden upheaval from homeland I could not return to and the suppression and repression that followed. And now, I walked with divine permission not to prove myself, but to plant legacy in the same ground that once saw me flee. This wasn’t just my return. This was heaven’s response to every injustice my family had endured.

THE KIND OF RETURN THAT CHANGES ATMOSPHERES

I didn’t just come home with a passport. I came home with a mantle. A voice that carries the sound of restoration. A vision refined by years of watching systems fail and still daring to build better ones. And a conviction that true power never screams it heals, it lifts, it transforms. Let this be the kind of return we all strive for one that does not demand recognition, but provokes redemption.

WHEN GOD WRITES YOUR RETURN, EVEN THE WINDS OBEY

I believe with every fiber of my being that this journey was authored long before my first breath. I walked into places I didn’t campaign for. I sat at tables I never begged to join. And I stood in tears at altars built only by obedience. This isn’t just about one woman’s homecoming. It’s about the undeniable truth that when heaven holds the pen, the story will never end in tragedy.

THREE LESSONS ETCHED IN SPIRIT AND SCIENCE

1. Delay is not denial – it is divine development. Psychology may define trauma as a disruption of identity. But purpose redefines it. My life was not postponed. It was being prepared. What nearly broke me became the very oil that now anoints every room I enter.

2. Restoration does not come quietly. When God restores, He doesn’t return what you lost, He returns more. More influence. More clarity. More territory. I did not return to reclaim. I returned to redeem.

3. Your scars are sacred. The world teaches us to hide them. God uses them to build platforms. Everything I am today was shaped by what I survived yesterday. That is not shame — that is strategy.

FINAL BENEDICTION: THE BLUEPRINT OF HEAVEN

There’s a verse that has echoed through every step of this journey: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” — Jeremiah 29:11 I am living proof that the future He promised is not just possible, it’s already unfolding. To every leader, every broken heart, every soul waiting on a resurrection, may you remember: God never writes endings. He writes entrances. And when you walk in His will, even your return becomes a revolution.