Christmas and the Words I Didn’t Know I Needed

BGC Taguig City, Christmas Day

I usually don’t go out on Christmas Day.

Not because I don’t love Christmas, but because I know what it brings — crowds, long walks, traffic, noise. I’m the kind of person who prefers quiet on days that already feel emotionally full. Staying home feels easier. Safer.

But this year was different.

My sister is here with us, and she’s much younger than me. At her age, Christmas isn’t something you spend indoors scrolling or resting, it’s something you experience. I didn’t want her stuck inside the house on a special day, so we went out.

First, we went to church.

Then, with no real plan, we decided to go around the city.

That’s how we ended up walking through Uptown Bonifacio on Christmas night, lights everywhere, people everywhere, the city alive in a way that only happens during the holidays.

That’s when we saw them.

Peace. Love. Hope. Joy.

Big, glowing words standing in the middle of the city — lit up, golden, surrounded by noise, traffic, and people moving in every direction. At first, they felt festive. Decorative. Very Christmas.

But the longer I stood there, the more they stopped feeling like decorations and started feeling like reminders.

Peace, existing in the middle of noise

“Peace” stood there quietly, even while the city stayed loud.

Cars passed. Conversations overlapped. Life didn’t pause for it. And I thought, maybe peace was never meant to be silence. Maybe it’s something you carry while everything else keeps moving.

This year has been noisy for me.

Missed expectations. Messy emotions. Thoughts that don’t know how to rest.

Yet somehow, peace still showed up in small, almost forgettable moments. A deep breath. A slow walk. An evening where nothing demanded too much of me.

Peace didn’t fix my life.

It just reminded me I could still stand in it.

Love, unfinished but honest

Then there was “Love.”

Bright. Warm. Impossible to ignore.

Love, for me, hasn’t been a clean story this year. It’s been complicated. Sometimes distant. Sometimes quiet. Sometimes hard.

Love looked like choosing myself when it felt uncomfortable.

Like setting boundaries.

Like learning that staying doesn’t always mean holding on.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was real.

And maybe that’s what love actually is, showing up, even when it’s messy.

Hope, stubborn and still glowing

“Hope” came next.

By then, the crowd was thicker. People were laughing, taking photos, moving on. And hope just stood there — unbothered, glowing anyway.

Hope doesn’t promise answers.

It doesn’t guarantee that things will suddenly make sense.

It simply says, “There’s still something ahead.”

And on days when I feel tired of trying, that quiet promise matters more than I admit.

Joy, easy to miss but still there

And then there was “Joy.”

The word I almost overlooked.

Joy isn’t always loud. It doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it hides behind exhaustion, routine, or survival mode.

This year, joy wasn’t constant for me.

It appeared in flashes, shared laughter, night walks, familiar places dressed in lights, moments where I forgot to overthink and just was.

Joy didn’t erase the mess.

It simply reminded me that even in unfinished seasons, there are still moments worth smiling about.

After that, we continued walking. We came to Central Square. We took photos here and there.

And then unexpectedly the sky lit up.

Fireworks.

For a moment, the noise turned into awe. People stopped moving. Heads tilted upward. And without realizing it, my inner child showed up, quiet, wide-eyed, smiling for no reason other than this is beautiful.

Standing there, surrounded by lights, strangers, and the echo of fireworks, I felt something settle in me.

My life isn’t neatly wrapped.

There are still misses. Still messes.

But that night reminded me that peace can exist in noise, love can be unfinished and still real, and hope doesn’t need certainty to keep going.

And sometimes, joy shows up when you least expect it right after you decide to step outside. - MESSY E.

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