We used to live near the jail, and I remember that when I was growing up, my friends and I would watch the inmates construct these beautiful parols. We would stand—a flimsy chicken wire separating us from the inmates— in awe and wide-eyed wonder at how these supposed criminals could make something so beautiful with their hands.

The family would go to the Parish Chapel to hear Christmas eve mass. After mass, we would go home, gather around the table, and start eating our Noche Buena of Cagayan de Oro ham (the original Pines brand), queso de bola, sotanghon (chinese noodles cooked pinamala – the soup drained), home-made corned beef and broiled chicken. Chicken fat left on the turbo broiler is placed on rice to become an added treat in itself. These were our usual Noche Buena fare. Additional food varies- one year we had pressure-cooked bangus in olive oil; another year we had a whole lechon (roast pig)–but we had lechon paksiw for a whole week so we never tried that again…; another year mama decided to go “long-life” with pancit canton and bam-i (pancit and sotanghon noodles mixed), aside from the sotanghon.

At exactly 12 midnight, the whole family would pause, and start sharing about the biggest joys of their year. Since there were only four of us (dad, mama, me and joan, my sister), we would usually finish by 12:30. When we got older though, the sharings started to go longer and longer (probably because we had a lot more to thank God for…).

This year was quite different. We didn’t have parols anymore. The only reminder of Christmas in our house was the Christmas Wreath in the living room and the Christmas tree in the garage. I later learned that the inmates in the city jail have stopped making parols. We didn’t go to our old Parish church, the family are now regulars of the Ateneo de Cagayan-Xavier University chapel. This year, I cooked steak (my own recipe), mama cooked hamonado (pork leg stew) and my aunt cooked calamari.

It was a little different, but at the same time, it was the same. Gone were the childhood memories of parols and broiled chicken with its delicious lard. But Christmas was Christmas, still. The essence of my spending the two weeks in Cagayan de Oro was the time spent with the family.

I even got to visit my lola in our small hometown. She probably no longer recognizes me (she’s had memory problems over the past year), but we got to walk around the hometown (in the guise of “exercise”), and stopped by the Parish Church. She prayed to the child Jesus in the make-shift manger in the altar of the Church. She knelt down fervently in front of the child, and I was afraid her frail body would give way and she wouldn’t be able to stand up; but she somehow found the strength to kneel down and pray.

Her praying got me thinking about what Christmas really is all about. In the end, we’d all probably forget the “traditions” in our families. My lola probably never missed a Christmas mass for the past eighty or so years until she missed the Christmas eve mass this year. When she was younger, she probably had all the trimmings of Christmas– the parols and the singing and the great food and company. But in the end, they’re really just that–trimmings.

In the end, it’s all about that Child in the manger. It’s about bringing our bodies–frail or strong; weak or capable–and kneeling down in front of that Child. And whispering our prayers.

Everything else is really just trimming compared to that.

*parols are star-shaped lanterns that is traditional decoration for Filipino Christmases.