What Is Simple Is True

December 24, 2008. A usual cold and breezy afternoon... I walked along the front area of the cathedral in order to check whether the Christmas tree installed by the parish youth ministry was already filled with decorations. After I have scrutinized every color and detail, I diverted my gaze on the two massive pilasters that supported the porch where the historic image of Our Lady was placed. The corners seemed to be very significant because they reminded me of an experience I had a year ago, when I was disillusioned about the celebration of Christmas Season. I plunged incredulously from my anticipation as I kept on telling myself that probably, this would be my saddest Christmas ever, not for the reason that I was miles away from home or my parents were not around. It’s just that I was so frustrated with what was happening to me then that the lights, sounds, and revelries were not appealing at all. Looking back, I gave myself a deep sigh, grateful that somehow I did not completely give in to my personal aches and fall into the disbelief of having a “good for nothing” Christmas.
Set adrift along memory bliss...

December 24, 2007. A usual cold and breezy afternoon...I walked along the front area of the cathedral as I waited for some folks to arrive so we can start our practice for the Christmas Eve Eucharistic Celebration. I was discerning whether I should go home or not on December 25 because there were things that fell out of place in our home. You see, when you’re left to look after your parents, you can’t help but be idealistic about them, expecting them to be like this or be like that. I got so frustrated with certain decisions they made and it breaks my heart to hear from people some unlikely remarks on them. I wanted to confront papa and nanay but my pride has gotten into my nerves that I have decided not to bother at all, and my option of not seeing them on Christmas Day would serve as my own act of rebellion. As I indulged myself to “the crazy-making pleasures I got from own pain” (Thanks Fr. Robert de Grandis, SSJ for this expression), I saw two women sitting at both ends of the cathedral pilasters, begging for alms. I wanted to avoid them but they called me, telling me they need jeepney fare because they wanted to go home to their place somewhere in Lapaz. I was taken aback. While I was so hesitant to go home to my parents who failed to condescend to my principles, here are two mothers doing the best they could just to be with their family on Christmas Day. While I reasoned out for possible excuses to nurture the hurt inside my heart, these women modestly presented to me what is simple, honest and true: to go beyond my logic and to plainly take love in its purest form. They made me realize that my family is not perfect and I am only invited to love perfectly the imperfect. And perhaps, this is what Christmas is all about.

I told the women to wait for a while as I hurriedly bought some food from a nearby grocery store so they could have something to eat for their Noche Buena. And of course, I gave them money for their jeepney fare. At the back of my mind, it was just a small token for a bigger-than-myself message they conveyed in my heart and for reminding me the real meaning of Christmas. The next morning, without thinking twice, I took the early jeepney trip to celebrate Christmas day with my family.