When We Share our Gifts, They Become Someone Else’s Hope

NANCY CHICHIOCO-RAZON

Twenty-two years ago, art quietly held my hand as I journeyed through chemotherapy.

When words failed me, colors spoke. When fear threatened to overwhelm me, a sketchbook, a paintbrush, and simple acts of creating reminded me that beauty could still exist, even in the midst of uncertainty.

I never imagined that one day, the very gift that helped me heal would become a way of accompanying others on their own journey.

On July 4, 2026, I found myself standing before 35 courageous  cancer patients and 15 devoted caregivers —not as a patient this time, but as a facilitator of a therapeutic art workshop. As I looked around the room, I couldn’t help but smile. Life had come full circle.

The invitation came from a dear friend of more than twenty years, who asked if I would be willing to conduct an art workshop for the cancer patients staying at Bahay Aruga*. As a cancer survivor myself, my answer came without hesitation.  It was a chance to share something deeply personal.  Sometime healing begins in the simplest moments – creating together, listening without words, connecting through colors and gently reminding one another that hope is always present.

During my chemotherapy twenty-two years ago, I rediscovered art. Sketching with charcoal and pencil, painting, and creating handmade jewelry became more than hobbies—they became companions on my healing journey. Every line I drew, every bead I strung, every color I carefully chose gently shifted my attention away from fear and toward beauty, creativity, and possibility. Art became a quiet refuge, allowing me to create something beautiful even while walking through one of life’s most difficult seasons.

Those experiences inspired me to share the same gift with others. If art had helped carry me through my own journey, perhaps it could offer moments of peace, joy, strength, and hope to others as well.

Preparing for the workshop was itself a meaningful journey. The participants ranged in age from five to seventy-five, requiring every activity to be inclusive and engaging. I translated my presentation into our local language so everyone could participate comfortably. I carefully designed each exercise so that young children, adults, and seniors could all experience success, while ensuring enough flexibility for everyone to express themselves in their own unique way.

Balancing this preparation alongside my counseling work and other workshops took nearly two months. Yet every hour was worthwhile. I was blessed by the generous support of my friend and the wonderful women from her Makati community, who lovingly prepared the art materials, organized the logistics, arranged the meals, and attended to countless details behind the scenes. Their quiet generosity made it possible for the workshop to unfold beautifully.

One gesture touched me deeply. They surprised every participant with a specially made workshop shirt featuring one of my own artworks printed on it. Seeing the children, patients, caregivers, and volunteers wearing the same design created an unexpected sense of unity. We were no longer simply individuals gathered for an activity—we had become one community, connected by hope.

As the workshop unfolded, I realized that while I had come to teach art, I was the one receiving the greater gift. I witnessed extraordinary courage hidden behind gentle smiles. I saw caregivers whose quiet love spoke louder than words.  I listened to the older patients, sharing not only their artworks, but their wisdom they had gathered through life, reminding me that despite illness, they still embraced each day with purpose. I watched children laugh, create, and simply enjoy being children, if only for a few precious hours. The room gradually filled with color, conversation, laughter, and moments of quiet reflection.

It  reminded me once again that healing is not always about curing illness. Sometimes healing is found in being seen, in feeling connected, in discovering that despite pain, we can still create something beautiful with our own hands.

I left Bahay Aruga that afternoon carrying far more than I had brought. My heart was full—not because of what I had given, but because of everything I had received.

As I drove home that afternoon, my heart whispered a simple prayer of gratitude. Once again, God had shown me that He wastes nothing—not even our wounds.

That day reaffirmed something I have come to believe deeply: our gifts are never truly ours to keep. When we generously share them, they become someone else’s source of hope. And in that beautiful exchange, we often discover that we, too, are being healed.

Indeed, life had come full circle. Art once helped heal me. Today, it had become my way of accompanying others—not only through therapeutic art workshops, but also through my counseling work. We never know how our deepest wounds may one day become our greatest gifts.

“Bahay Aruga came into life on 30 January 2014, it is a free halfway house for Pediatric Cancer patients of Philippine General Hospital. These patients are from different provinces of the Philippines, some of them need to be in PGH every week because of long-term treatment, but they don’t have a place to stay here in Manila. There are many cases that patients and parents slept on the sidewalk of the hospital to wait for the patients’ next check-up and treatment. Sadly, many of the patients abandoned their treatment because of financial hardship. That is how Bahay Aruga came into life. Bahay Aruga is not only providing free shelter to Pediatric Cancer patients but also guiding and supplying them with personal needs and medicines.”