About Salvacion Paloso

Hello and welcome. My name is Salvacion Lucas Paloso, though many know me as Salve. I was born in the hidden mountain town of Maconacon, Isabela on a quiet Saturday morning—January 31, 1987—seven months premature, a child not expected to survive.

At the time of my birth, my father had been gravely ill with Hepatitis B. My arrival was unexpected and miraculous. There was no hospital, no proper medical equipment. But someone—a compassionate neighbor—improvised an incubator using whatever tools and warmth they could find. They wrapped me tightly, kept me near a source of gentle heat, and hovered with care. The Lord used human hands to preserve my fragile life.

When my father saw me breathing, living, surviving against the odds, he believed I had saved his life. That’s why he named me "Salvacion."

But what he didn’t know then was that my name was more than gratitude. It was prophecy. A name etched into eternity. A name that would one day echo the very heart of the One who saves.

From the beginning, I was marked by hiddenness. Maconacon is remote, nestled in the Sierra Madre mountains—a place set apart, almost forgotten by the world. And in many ways, that was a mirror of my life. I grew up feeling things too deeply, seeing things others didn’t notice, absorbing atmospheres I didn’t know how to explain. I was a tender child in a loud world, a soul that hid her tears behind silence.

My earliest memories are not of being celebrated but of shrinking. My parents fought often. I learned to disappear in plain sight. I didn’t have the language then for what I now know was spiritual sensitivity. I carried a longing I couldn’t name—a cry that echoed in the night long before I learned how to pray.

And yet, even then, the Lord was near.

There were moments—unspoken, sacred moments—when I sensed that Someone was watching over me. I didn’t understand Him yet, but I knew I wasn’t alone.

As I grew older, I learned to carry burdens quietly. To serve, to work, to press through. But under the surface, the ache remained. Who was I, really? Why was I born this way—fragile, tender, intense? Was it a curse? Or a calling?

It wasn’t until years later, when the Lord whispered to my heart, “You are the one I have been looking for,” that everything began to make sense. All the hiddenness. All the ache. All the questions.

He had been there all along.

What started as a faint stirring became an unfolding love story—one marked by His relentless pursuit, my trembling surrender, and countless moments of deliverance and healing. I was not merely saved from something—I was saved for Someone. 

That Someone is Jesus, my Bridegroom, my Healer, my Redeemer. And He has set me apart—not because I am perfect, but because I am His.

My journey from premature birth to prophetic calling is not just a testimony of survival. It is a scroll being unsealed. 

A name being redeemed. 

A Bride being prepared.

And this is my song.