Montana, USA – It’s cold out here and it can be lonely. So different from the many Christmases I spent in the Philippines when the only cold I felt were in the early mornings when I had to leave my bed for nine straight mornings to attend Misa de Gallo or dawn masses. But the cold was often enveloped in the warmth of sikwate (native hot chocolate) and puto maya (glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk) and the “Maayong Buntag” of every person you meet telling you that the morning is beautiful even before the sun rises.
In the little village called Libas in the town of Merida in Leyte, Philippines where I spent the period of my life from nine to 16, Christmas was the second most anticipated occasion of the year – second only to the the village’s fiesta celebration – because of the get-togethers, singing and dancing, exchanging gifts, caroling, and the sheer joy of seeing houses and streets lit up with lanterns and Christmas lights.
I remember hopping from one house to the next singing Christmas carols and receiving a few pesos here and there from kind homeowners. The money we earned from singing Christmas songs was part of the funds we raised so we could organize a Christmas party meant for all the youth and children of our community. There were free food and free gifts. There was much laughter. Everybody sings – with a microphone or not. Most of the people in that community are Catholics. I grew up with them. I was part of their youthful choir; I was a lector; I was part of the Legion of Mary. I knew every single person who attends Mass save for occasional guests of some families.
Back then, I felt that my world was just right there. School years came and gone and there were new lessons to study and new concepts to learn. But Christmas always happens at the end of the year. It meant that something special will happen again. It mean a few more days before another new year, another reason to look forward to a brighter tomorrow.
My world expanded as I went to high school in the city and interacted with nice and the not-so-nice people on and off the streets. I learned to fend for myself. But I also learned to trust some people. There were difficult times. High school is a big game of trying to fit in. You know you don’t have to but you do it anyway. Bullying was inevitable but back then, not many people chose to stand against it. I was one of those who kept mum about it. At some point, I even defended my bullies. But no matter how crappy things fared, Christmas always happened. It never fails to heal hearts and shower love and forgivess. Endorphins are on an overdrive on Christmas and the days leading to it. I smelled happiness in the air. It’s difficult to miss it.
I continued to grow; not so much on the physical arena but I knew and felt that I was gaining more knowledge and wisdom. I could tell. From the clothes I wore, the friends I kept, the subjects in college I liked, the professors I hated. Several parts of my life changed. More changes happened when I joined the workforce, interviewed dignitaries and garbage collectors, resigned from my first job, lived and travelled abroad, met the man I thought I was gonna marry, got my heart broken, got a second job, dated left and right, met the man I married, made babies, went to graduate school, baked more pastries, and just last night, survived a migraine attack that has not been bothering me for more than three years.
This littlest of home that we have now is stripped to barest essentials. We have been prudent about Christmas this year. We trimmed down on gifts and decorations. I have a meal plan that involves cooking whatever we have in the freezer so we don’t waste any food. I looked out of the window and wonder how did I end up here? One day I was just complaining about how the heat and humidity in the Philippines was stripping the life out of me and now, here I am on the 22nd of December in Montana experiencing a White Christmas.
It’s beautiful out here. Heavenly Father has been kind to this little mound of earth on this side of the planet. From where I am seated, I can feel the cold gush of air on my face; I can taste the cold. I tried to smell Christmas in the air. I also tried to taste it. But my heart is stubborn and refused to feel Christmas right here. My thoughts wander off to the Christmas parties attended by so many children we often ran out of Filipino sweet-style spaghetti to feed everyone. Laughing, singing, and dancing make you eat more. But somehow, more food arrived so nobody left the party with empty stomachs. Being raised as a Catholic in a tight-knit community, I grew up accustomed to cooking for 15 to 20 people. It will be very different this year. There are only two to four adults to cook for. That’s really weird.
Before I murder this rant with too much talk about food, let me share a few short sentences about singing and the Filipinos. Well… Singing is a way of life in the Philippines. Christmas songs are best sang by Filipinos. Good Lord, the songs! Sundays at Church are the best as everyone claps and sings as they sway to the music of dear old Christmas songs in Filipino and Cebuano.
I guess what I’m really blabbering about is I miss the Philippines so much. Especially this Christmas season. And the thing I miss the most about Christmas in the Philippines is… the people. Those who kept each other warm from the cold; those who are willing to give what little they have; those who laugh and chose to be happy in times of loss and grief. Filipinos are happy people; we always find the silver lining especially in hopeless, sad situations.
I can’t have them here. Too bad I don’t have magic or superpowers. I would have gladly used my magic wand so I can go give my Mom a hug as she makes my favorite pork humba.
I’ve been pinning for Filipino Christmas for some time now. Perhaps, it’s time to make the the spirit of Filipino Christmas felt in this home. I mean, I still have three days to go, right? I still have time to make some kind of Filipino lantern and introduce my children to this part of their heritage. I can perhaps divide music time with Jeff and play my Bisaya Christmas songs. Kasadya Ning Taknaa is missed by this lonely heart.
Then, there’s the food.
I’m going to cook Filipino dishes.
I’m going to show them how a Filipino celebrates Christmas. I’m away from dear Pilipinas this Christmas. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make this home one filled with joy and love and… songs. After all, Christmas is about loving and giving. And there’s no better person to spread Christmas cheer than a Filipino.
Malipayong Pasko ug Bulahang Bag-ong Tuig kaninyong tanan!
(Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everyone!)
