The church had been underwater for nearly a month. The groom was on medical leave from the Middle East, his window closing fast. So on September 1, Leian Lieza Galang shortened her wedding dress, Gilbert Chico climbed into an elevated tricycle alongside her, and together they waded through knee-to-hip-deep floodwater inside St. John the Baptist Parish in Hagonoy, Bulacan — because waiting was never really an option.
A December Wedding That Couldn’t Wait Until December
Gilbert works as a rigger in the Middle East, which means the couple had spent much of their relationship navigating time zones, contracts, and counted-down days. They had originally planned to marry in December — a date that made logistical sense, gave them time to plan, and promised dry weather. Then Gilbert took a basketball jump wrong and came home on ankle injury medical leave earlier than expected.
That injury, the kind of accident that usually derails plans, became the only reason the wedding could happen at all. The couple looked at the narrow window — his contract would pull him back abroad before December — and made the call. September 1 it was. The floods were already there. They decided to be there too. Much like the couples who found ways to celebrate despite impossible odds, Leian and Gilbert’s story shows that the most meaningful ceremonies aren’t always the most convenient ones.
To make the venue work, parish staff adapted the space after church leaders initially cautioned the couple to postpone. When Leian and Gilbert insisted, the staff streamlined the service and helped configure what they could. Leian had the train of her dress altered so the weight of wet fabric wouldn’t drag her down the aisle. The elevated tricycle that carried them to the church entrance became one of the most shared images of the entire event.
Floodwater Up to the Hips and Fewer Than 15 Guests
Weddings in the Philippines are typically large, loud, community affairs — it’s not unusual for guest lists to run into the hundreds. On this particular September 1, fewer than 15 people stood in the water alongside Leian and Gilbert inside St. John the Baptist Parish. Photos captured guests in formal attire, suits darkening from the waterline up, a ring bearer navigating the flooded aisle with the kind of focus that deserved its own medal.
The flooding wasn’t incidental. Hagonoy sits in a low-lying coastal basin in Bulacan, one of the areas of Central Luzon most vulnerable to upstream river runoff and tidal overflow. The heavier-than-usual southwest monsoon — known locally as *Habagat* — had hammered the northern Philippines throughout August, killing at least 34 people across the region and leaving St. John the Baptist Parish submerged for close to a full month before the ceremony. The water on the day of the wedding was not receding. It was still there, still rising in some spots, still very much part of every single photograph.
After the abbreviated ceremony, Gilbert said nothing was going to stop them from making it official. That line landed differently once you know the full timeline: an injury that brought him home, a monsoon that flooded the church, a parish that tried to talk them out of it, a guest list reduced to the people willing to get wet. The ceremony happened anyway. The dress was already altered.
- how Filipino resilience shows up in moments like this
