WHEN I think of Christmas, my mind always travels back to my elementary and high school days. December felt lighter then. The air itself seemed different. There was a quiet excitement that started as early as November, when teachers began talking about Christmas parties and classmates whispered about exchanging gifts.
We counted the days not by the calendar, but by rehearsals and decorations. We practiced dance numbers in classrooms, wrapped simple gifts in recycled paper, and debated endlessly about what food to bring for the party. Even the smallest things felt magical. A paper crown, a pack of biscuits, a handwritten note from a classmate.
Back then, Christmas did not require much. It only required presence.
I remember waking up early on party day, excited to wear my best clothes. Sometimes they were new. Sometimes they were just carefully ironed. But they mattered because they marked a special day. I remember walking into classrooms decorated with colorful crepe paper, listening to teachers remind us to behave while smiling, just as excited as we were.
Those memories return to me now as I walk through malls filled with Christmas lights and laughter. I see children clutching their parents’ hands, eyes wide as they look at toys, clothes, and decorations. I see the same excitement I once felt. The same joy. The same belief that Christmas is something to look forward to.
And for a moment, it feels comforting.
But then reality catches up.
As joyful as malls look today, there is another Christmas happening outside those bright corridors. It is quieter. Heavier. Less visible.
While some children eagerly choose outfits for Christmas parties, others sit at home knowing there will be no party clothes this year. While some families plan gifts and feasts, others struggle to afford rice, canned goods, or even electricity. While some children count the days to Christmas, others count what their parents cannot give.
This contrast has always existed, but it feels sharper now. Perhaps because prices are higher. Perhaps because wages feel smaller. Perhaps because many families are still recovering from crises that have not fully passed.
Christmas, instead of uniting us in joy, sometimes reminds us of how unequal life can be.
The quiet pain of parents
One of the hardest realities of Christmas is the silent pain carried by parents who want to give their children a joyful holiday but simply cannot.
Some parents avoid malls altogether to spare their children disappointment. Some promise gifts they know will be delayed. Some smile through conversations while worrying about how to stretch their budget until January.
There is no shame in this struggle, but many parents feel it deeply. They feel pressure to provide happiness in a season that measures love through gifts and celebrations. They feel guilt even when the problem is not their lack of effort, but the weight of economic reality.
Children may not always understand these struggles, but parents feel them every day.
Childhood joy and adult awareness
When we were young, Christmas felt simple. As adults, we see how much effort goes into creating that simplicity. We understand now that behind every gift was a sacrifice. Behind every meal was careful planning. Behind every celebration was someone working harder than we realized.
This awareness changes how we see Christmas. It becomes less about receiving and more about understanding. Less about excitement and more about empathy.
As we grow older, we carry two versions of Christmas. The one we remember with joy, and the one we now see with clarity.
What the season reveals
Christmas has a way of revealing truths we often ignore. It shows us who has enough and who is barely surviving. It exposes inequalities that are otherwise hidden behind routine. It reminds us that joy is not evenly distributed.
But it also reveals something else. It shows us how resilient people are. How families continue to celebrate in small ways. How children still find happiness in simple moments. How generosity persists even when resources are limited.
I have seen families share meals with neighbors despite having little. I have seen children laugh over simple toys. I have seen communities come together to make Christmas feel less heavy for those who are struggling.
These moments matter.
Reclaiming the meaning of Christmas
Perhaps Christmas is asking us to pause. To remember not only the joy of our childhood, but the responsibility of our adulthood.
It asks us to look at the children in malls with excitement and the children outside who remain unseen. It asks us to hold both realities without turning away from either.
The season is not asking us to feel guilty for joy. It is asking us to feel responsible for compassion. It is asking us to remember that kindness does not require abundance.
A gift does not always come wrapped. Sometimes it comes as understanding. Sometimes it comes as patience. Sometimes it comes as refusing to judge those who struggle.
Spaces that must speak compassion
Our malls speak excitement. Our decorations speak of celebration. But our conversations must also speak compassion.
They must remind us that not everyone experiences Christmas the same way. That, for some, the season is heavy. That, for some, survival takes precedence over celebration.
As someone who once looked forward to Christmas parties with pure excitement, I now look at this season with a quieter hope. A hope that we learn to see beyond lights and sales. A hope that we remember what truly made Christmas special when we were young.
It was not the price of gifts. It was the feeling of being included. Of being seen. Of being valued.
If we can carry that spirit into the present, then perhaps Christmas can still mean something powerful. Not just for those who can afford to celebrate loudly, but also for those who celebrate quietly.
Because the Christmas we remember was not about excess. It was about togetherness. And that is something we can still choose to honor today.
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Kethelle I. Sajonia is a college instructor at the University of Southeastern Philippines, Mintal Campus. She is currently in the final phase of her Doctor of Communication degree at the University of the Philippines. Her research interests include inclusivity, education, communication, and social development. She actively engages in scholarly research and community-based initiatives that advocate for inclusive and transformative communication practices.
