There are trips that feel like holidays—filled with photos, food, and laughter. But then there are journeys that feel more like homecomings. The kind where you’re not just travelling across distance, but inward—towards your own soul.

That’s exactly how it felt when I visited Our Birhen sa Simala, the miraculous Marian shrine nestled in Sibonga, Cebu. It wasn’t just another destination. It was a journey of hope, healing, and whispered prayers carried on candlelight.

The Road to Sibonga

The drive to Simala is long, winding, and—for me—quietly sacred. It’s the kind of road that invites reflection. I remember looking out the window, the familiar Cebuano countryside stretching beyond, the hum of travel soft in the background. There’s something about long drives that makes you talk less and feel more.

We passed towns and rice fields, roadside vendors selling candles and rosaries, children playing near sari-sari stores. The air was warm. The sky was cloud-draped and calm.

There was anticipation in my chest—not the kind you feel when visiting tourist spots, but the kind that stirs when your heart knows it’s about to surrender something silently held.

First Glimpse of Simala Church

When you first see the Simala Shrine, it almost doesn’t feel real. Perched atop hills, the castle-like church rises in ivory curves and golden detail. It looks like something out of a dream—or a place imagined in a child’s bedtime prayer.

People often describe it as “miraculous,” and even before you step in, you understand why. There’s a hush in the air. A reverence. And whether you’re deeply devout or quietly searching, you feel it—this place was built by faith.

Prayers, Promises, and Candles

Inside, the atmosphere shifts. The walls are lined with crutches, letters, uniforms, photos—testimonies from those who were healed, helped, or simply held by grace. And then there are the candles. Dozens of colors. Each one representing a prayer: healing, thanksgiving, love, family, strength, peace.

I lit a candle, and I whispered names. Some were family. Some were friends. Some were gone. Some were still fighting. Each flame flickered like a heartbeat. I prayed not for miracles, but for mercy. For understanding. For peace in the places where answers have yet to arrive.

And then I sat in one of the pews, closed my eyes, and let the silence wrap around me.

It’s a strange kind of healing—how a place so filled with other people’s pain and petitions can bring you a sense of calm. But it does. In that moment, I felt the noise inside me grow quiet.

A Journey Through Faith, Not Just Devotion

Many come to Simala with heavy burdens. And in the faces of the people walking beside me—young, old, rich, poor, some in wheelchairs, some barefoot—I saw the shared thread of longing. Some cried silently. Some smiled with closed eyes. Some simply sat.

This shrine isn’t just for Catholics or those who know every line of the Hail Mary. It’s for anyone who needs a place to fall apart gently. A place to ask questions you don’t say out loud. A place to be held by something bigger than yourself.

Why This Trip Mattered

It wasn’t my first time in Simala. But it was the first time I didn’t ask for anything. I just came to say thank You.

Thank you for the grace that carried me through grief.
Thank you for the little joys I almost didn’t notice.
Thank you for the strength I only understood in hindsight.

And maybe that’s what made this visit different. I’m not the same version of me who visited years ago—confused, heavy, desperate. I’ve grown. I’ve softened. I’ve learned to love myself more gently. I don’t overthink as much. I’ve found peace in not having all the answers. And Our Birhen sa Simala? She witnessed all of that.

What I Took Home (Besides Rosaries)

I brought home small souvenirs—candles, holy water, printed prayers. But the real takeaway was something quieter.

I brought home stillness.

I brought home clarity.

I brought home the reminder that even when the world is loud, there is always a place where you can go—to breathe, to kneel, to remember who you are.

Visiting Our Birhen sa Simala is more than a religious experience. It’s a reminder of how deeply human we all are—how we long, how we hurt, how we hope. It’s a reminder that even in the waiting, even in the silence, we are not alone.

If you ever find yourself in Cebu, make the journey to Simala. Not just to see the church. But to listen to your heart in a place where thousands have found comfort simply by showing up.

Because sometimes, showing up is the holiest thing we can do.