By Farah G. Decano

 

ATTY. Glenn Bauzon entered the Dean’s office passing by the College of Law Secretary’s desk and the Faculty Lounge where gifts were being wrapped.  He heard the yuletide songs of Andrea Bocelli being played audibly in my work area when he blurted, “I already feel the Christmas Spirit, Dean!”

I looked at the young lawyer who just sat relaxed across my table with a wide grin plastered on his face.  There was a familiar excitement in his behaviour – almost giggly in anticipation of Christmas.  I remembered my child self. “That’s a gift nowadays,” I told him.

The smile in his eyes disappeared. It transformed into a quizzical look directed at me. “What do you mean, Dean?”

Christmas is just a few days from now and yet I know people who are still to feel that “joyous spirit.”  They seem busy with numerous office year-end demands, deadlines, and events.  Noisy parties and drinking sessions are mere social obligations that add no meaning to the very much anticipated day. Scheduled family and class reunions are dreaded. They bring about stress.  The sudden rupture of boisterous laughter during these events are attempts to drown the whimpers of what could be empty hearts that yearn to be filled with love. The almost cacophonous and overplayed Jose Mari Chan’s songs are now aimed to silence the cries of their souls who wish to be freed from worldly concerns.

“You are lucky to have been touched by the Christmas spirit,” I replied to Atty. Glenn. “Others are still in search for this elusive gentle caress of Noel on their being.”

I could not help but narrate to Atty. Glenn my personal experience two decades ago.  December was already fast slipping away, and yet, I could not fully appreciate the merriness of the season.  The cold breeze had started to be felt.   The City was adorned with a giant Christmas tree and beautiful street lanterns. Most houses were lit up with their own glittering lights. Yet, I was feeling bleak inside as I attended the Misa de Gallo. Even the Belen inside St. John Church that awaited the coming of Jesus Christ could not help my desperate search for the usual joy I once held in me every time December 25 arrived.

While hearing mass, my attention was caught by a baby about six months old being carried by her diminutive mother. Her chin rested on the frail left shoulder of the tired-looking mom. The young creature was looking at me.  I could not help but return the stare. Our eyes locked.  At first I thought that this tot must have mistaken my big round eyes as marbles. I couldn’t be faulted for thinking this  because my siblings once mocked me for having the biggest round eyes in the family.  They used to call me buldagat.  “Does this baby want to pluck my eyes out?” I wondered.

Then an epiphany hit me!

The Lord was probably telling me that I would not be able to find the Christmas Spirit in the season’s external manifestations with my adult musings of things. That I would be able to rediscover it only when I seek it through the eyes of the innocent.

And what would be an innocent view of Christmas?  I did not philosophize anymore.  I only had to transport myself to my childhood days when the Christmas Spirit was just right there within my reach at any time.   That “staring game” I had with that baby always reminds me to have a kind and forgiving heart – a heart that easily appreciates the simplicity and beauty of humanity and the world including its imperfections and inadequacies.

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