04/09/2026
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There is something about September that makes the year feel a little lighter.
Perhaps it is the first Christmas song quietly playing somewhere in the distance. Perhaps it is the sight of Christmas decorations slowly finding their way into stores. Or perhaps it is the sudden appearance of Mariah Carey on our timelines, reminding us, once again, that she has officially awakened from her yearly hibernation, while JoΕe Mari Chan somehow finds his way back into our playlists.
Whatever it is, we know what it means.
The Ber months have begun, and with them comes that familiar feeling we have somehow carried with us since childhoodβthe excitement of Christmas.
In the Philippines, Christmas has never really been just a December celebration. We have four whole months to feel it coming. September opens the door, October brings us close, November begins to glow, and December finally welcomes us home.
There is something beautiful about waiting for something we know will come.
We begin to count the days without even realizing it. We listen to Christmas songs a little longer; we notice the lights along the streets. We start thinking about gifts, reunions, food on the table, and the people we want to spend the season with.
Even the ordinary days begin to feel different.
Maybe that is what makes Christmas so special.
It is not only the celebration itself, but everything that leads us there.
I think there is a certain kind of happiness in anticipation. The kind that makes you smile at the smallest things because you know something good is on its way. As children, we waited for Christmas with a kind of excitement that made December feel impossibly far away. We counted the days, wished for presents, stayed awake a little longer, and believed that Christmas morning could not come soon enough. As we grow older, the excitement changes. We begin to understand that Christmas is not really about what waits underneath the tree.
It is about who sits beside us.
It is the laughter that fills the house. The familiar voices we have not heard in a while. The food prepared with too much effort and too much love. The late-night conversations. The little reunions that somehow make the year feel worth remembering. And perhaps, as we grow older, we begin to appreciate these things more.
Because time has a way of changing Christmas.
Some of the people we once celebrated with may no longer be there. Some traditions may not feel the same. Some Christmases may be quieter than we expected. Yet even then, there remains something comforting about the season returning every year, carrying with it memories of who we were, and reminders of what still matters.
And beneath all the lights, songs, gifts, and gatherings, there is something we sometimes forget in the noise of celebration.
The reason we celebrate in the first place.
For a country where faith has long been woven into everyday life, Christmas carries a meaning deeper than the festivities around it. Before the trees, the parols, the Noche Buena, and the exchange of gifts, there was a manger. There was a child born into the world, and a story of love that generations have continued to remember.
Perhaps this is why Christmas feels different here. We do not only celebrate the coming of a holiday. We remember the coming of Christ.
And maybe there is something beautiful about how these two things meet. The childlike excitement of waiting for Christmas, and the quiet faith that reminds us why we wait.
The lights are beautiful, but they point us toward something brighter.
The gifts are meaningful, but they remind us of the greatest gift.
The gatherings are joyful, but they remind us that we were never meant to celebrate alone.
Christmas has always had a way of bringing us back to the things that are simple.
Home.
Family.
Friendship.
Gratitude.
Hope.
For four months, we are reminded to look forward to something. And perhaps we need that more than we realize.
Life can become so busy that we forget how to be excited. We move from one deadline to another, from one responsibility to the next, always thinking about what comes after today. But when the Ber months arrive, there is suddenly something waiting for us at the end of the year.
A reason to pause.
A reason to gather.
A reason to smile.
So let September come with its Christmas songs. Let October bring the decorations. Let November fill the streets with lights. Let December arrive when it is ready.
There is no need to rush it.
For now, let us enjoy the waiting.
Let us hold on to that little spark of excitement we felt when Christmas seemed like the most wonderful time of the year. Let us find joy in the preparations, in the music, in the lights, in the people, and in the simple knowledge that another Christmas is slowly making its way toward us.
But as we wait, we also remember what we are waiting for.
Not merely another celebration.
Not merely another year coming to an end.
But a reminder of love, hope, and faith that has been at the heart of Christmas all along. Because maybe the magic of the four months of Christmas is not that we celebrate for so long. Maybe it is that, for four months, we remember what it feels like to remember something beautiful. In waiting for Christmas, we are reminded of something even greater:
That there is always a reason to hope, a reason to believe, and a reason to come home.
Maybe that is what makes Christmas feel like Christmas.
And perhaps that is enough to make the year feel a little warmer.
!
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Words: Precious Therese Cerio | The Josephinian
Art: Maia Rhona Madula | The Josephinian
