I still have a very vivid memory of my first-ever Misa de Gallo. I was probably four to six years old. Our house was just a short walk from the chapel. There was no priest assigned to our area at that time, so what we had was a Liturgy of the Word, known in Cebuano as Kasaulugan sa Pulong, presided over by a lay minister. It was simple, reverent, and deeply communal. What remains clearest in my memory is the cold. People came wrapped in blankets, sitting quietly in the early dawn, praying together as the sky slowly lightened. The songs were written in manila paper, and everyone was familiar with the songs.
Another childhood memory of Christmas carries the same simplicity. I was in Grade 1, attending my first real Christmas party at school. There were more than thirty students in the classroom, but only three of us brought gifts for the manito-manita exchange. Student A drew the name of Student B. Student B, in turn, drew the name of Student A. They exchanged gifts, both receiving a simple stick of bread. I was left with no one to exchange with, and my teacher did not seem too worried about it. When it was my turn to open my gift, prepared by my mother, I looked inside and smiled. It was also a stick bread. Somehow, no one was left out.
These memories remind me of a Christmas that was quiet, modest, and honest. There were no extravagant decorations, no expensive presents, no carefully curated celebrations. Yet there was joy. There was belonging. There was wonder.
As adults, we often lose that spark: the child’s ability to find happiness in the ordinary, to feel excitement in small things, to experience gratitude without excess. Sometimes, Christmas becomes loud, rushed, and heavy. These memories gently call us back to the core.
The chapel of my childhood still stands today. We still prepare for Christmas at dawn, but no one brings blankets anymore. There are electric fans now, a small sign that times have changed. Even the cold no longer feels the same, perhaps a quiet reminder of climate change and how the world around us is shifting. Traditions remain, but the environment in which we live them is different.
Just a couple of days back, I attended a Christmas party with the staff of Radio Veritas Asia. I was genuinely happy, not because of the program or the gifts, but because it was my first Christmas celebration with them. And, in the laughter, shared food, and simple presence, I once again glimpsed that childhood joy, the kind that doesn’t need much, only hearts willing to be present.
