Coming Home For Christmas

It is during the Christmas season that I think of all those who are either working overseas, or on foreign assignment. These are the people who celebrate Christmas, who also want to go home and be with their families but simply can't.
My thoughts are with them. Today, I think of those Christmases that I have spent away from home in my early years. I try to remember those occasions now because both my parents have passed away. No matter how hard I try, I will never be able to "go home again" because the home is now devoid of the people I love.
Strange how it is that when one's parents are around, one always takes them for granted. Then one day, they are no longer around. Life had been good to them but it was their time to "let go" and they did.
At first, we hold on to some of those loving memories. Soon the years washed away even that. The memory of their dear remembered features are dissipating in the mists of time. I look at their pictures and recall the little, poignant moments when I was growing up. I think of those times when I made their lives a bit difficult.
Now I think of my own children and think of how they would envision me, 30 years from now. The circle of life goes round and round.
Coming home for Christmas is a feeling. A desire to be loved. A wish to be remembered in the best way possible. I recall the happy times as a child. I slip almost unconsciously into a dream-like chain of events that transformed my memories into childhood experiences.
It is Xmas time again. There is no snow in my country. Mistletoes are few and roast turkeys are very commercialised. I see big posters at major hotels advertising the "big moments" for all those who can afford it.
I ask myself what about the millions who can't afford a good time. Then I remember my "going home" bit. It is not the money but the effort in making the journey. The buses I have to take to get home. The slow walk home, of how everybody is still the same.
Occasionally, I noticed that some uncles and aunties were spotting grey hair, then I looked at my own in the mirror.
Without realising much, I knew I too am marching unconsciously with the others down life's long and winding road. Everybody grows old. It is inevitable, but our walk down memory lane will always be pleasant if we so wish it.
Christmas time makes me think of all those old childhood friends I sometimes miss. How are they now? Are their lives happy? Do they too think of friends, just like I do.
In countries where the Christmas spirit is not as strong as it is in Christian countries, Christmas keeps a low profile. We are only reminded of its proximity by the TV shows and advertisements either on radio or television.
Priests are constantly reminding us to make peace with God, not that the peace had left us in the first place but the men of the cloth are only doing their duties. Christmas mass is probably one of the few times in a year for some Christians to get re-acquainted with the church.
We need to be in touch with the spirit of Xmas the whole year round. That way, Christmas will always be with us one way or another. I love the spirit that somehow springs up during this time of the year. It is as if we should and we must be "our good old selves again". Why must it be only at Christmas time?
To be having the spirit burning in our hearts and souls is in a way "coming home for Christmas". And all of us can do it too. Why wait till Dec 25? Why must it be confined to one solitary day out of 365 days in a year?
Christmas lives. There is no time but now. It is heaven whenever we wish it so.
Therefore coming home for Christmas is actually the time when we are at peace with the world and coming to terms with all that is beautiful and good with this life. It is a time and a feeling that friends and loved ones must be cherished because our time with them is limited, and every second of every minute can be made all the more wonderful because we choose it to be so.





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