What are you looking forward to this Christmas?
Is it the quiet joy of opening Christmas cards, the excitement of unwrapping gifts tied with ribbons and shiny paper, or the comforting smell of food lovingly prepared by your mom or someone dear to you?
This year, my heart was unexpectedly moved by a simple Christmas card made by my five-year-old friend, Joey, and his two-year-old sister, Mia. I didn’t even wait until Christmas to open it. Their Gimmy—their grandmother—told me they carefully chose their favorite stickers, and Joey proudly wrote their names on the envelope. Something so small, created by tiny hands, filled my heart in a way no store-bought gift ever could. It inspired me to pause and reflect—and to write.
When I was a child, I was taught that Christmas is a season of giving. I learned that Jesus Christ was born in a humble manger and later gave His life for the forgiveness of our sins. But as a child, I didn’t fully grasp what that meant. The wonder of Jesus as the greatest gift was often buried beneath my excitement for a new dress to wear to Simbang Gabi, the warm sweetness of puto bumbong and bibingka sold outside the church after Mass, the pile of presents waiting under the Christmas tree, and the joyful chaos of our family gathered around a table filled with food. Still, those moments planted seeds of gratitude and love in my heart.
As I grew older, my role slowly shifted—from receiver to giver. The thrill of Christmas became lists and planning, shopping and wrapping, hoping to see happiness in someone else’s eyes. But there were seasons when money was tight, and joy was replaced by worry. I remember the heavy feeling in my chest as I handed someone a modest gift, apologizing for its simplicity, silently hoping it would be seen as love rather than lack. In those moments, I realized something painful: I didn’t truly understand what it meant to give.
Everything began to change when my son met Maya, my daughter-in-law. Through her, he learned—and I witnessed—that gifts made with love carry far more meaning than anything money can buy. She taught us that memories last longer than ribbons, and presence matters more than presents.
From then on, I tried to give differently. I began creating gifts with my own hands and heart. And when I did buy gifts, I released myself from the pressure of price tags and expectations.
Not long ago, our family was invited to a gathering where we exchanged gifts that were handmade, offered as acts of service, or thoughtfully chosen from our own homes. That night was filled with laughter and connection. There were baked goods made with care, service coupons offering help when needed most, meaningful household items passed on with love, and a piece of handmade art. Each gift told a story. Each one said, I see you. I know you. You matter to me. And every heart in the room felt full.
This year, I poured my heart into a special gift requested by a loving mother for her daughter. As a mother myself, I understood her longing—to make her child feel deeply loved, seen, and cherished. Writing and illustrating it took time, emotion, and prayer. When I finally sent it, she told me that reading it brought tears of joy to her eyes. She printed it out and plans to give it to her daughter on Christmas morning. I can already imagine that moment—the quiet unfolding of a gift that speaks directly to the heart.
I will be able to share that gift with you soon.
This Christmas, may your heart be filled—not because of what you receive, but because of who you are loved by. May you remember that the greatest gift was not wrapped in paper, but laid in a manger. Jesus Christ gave Himself for us, freely and completely.
The true essence of gift-giving is written beautifully in Scripture:
Luke 21:4 (New International Version)
“All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on.”
May this season remind us that love—given sincerely—is the greatest gift of all. 🎄❤️
