Every year, when December steps in, I find myself watching people rush past with folders, gift bags, and deadlines clinging to them like burrs. It’s the same frantic scene that greets me annually, and I’ve long believed that this December rush reveals both our strength and our weakness as a people. We welcome the season so much that we push ourselves to the brink of exhaustion to meet its demands.
Once this month comes, the air thickens with obligations. In offices, employees start racing to finish year-end reports that have piled up through the months. Supervisors suddenly remember pending evaluations, financial documents, and audits that must be completed before everyone disappears for the holidays. I’ve witnessed colleagues gulp coffee at ungodly hours, tapping furiously on keyboards, determined to prove that the year didn’t end with loose ends. The pressure is real, and it eats into our days in ways that only December seems capable of doing.
Beyond the paperwork lies another battlefield: year-end activities that spring from every direction. Schools cram their recognition programs, closing ceremonies, and outreach missions into the month. Local government units mount parades, lighting events, and public gatherings. Every organization—from church groups to civic clubs—feels compelled to hold its own celebration, as if the year would not be complete without a final roll call. I often find myself moving from one event to another, marveling at how Filipinos can turn exhaustion into an art form.
And then there are the Christmas parties—a world of their own. There are parties where the preparation feels like a full-blown production: themes, costumes, program committees, gift exchanges, raffle prizes, catering, and photo booths. People rehearse dance numbers as if auditioning for a grand show. What strikes me every time is how much heart they pour into it all, even when their feet already ache. I see teachers staying late to decorate classrooms, office workers stringing lights around cubicles, and families planning meals weeks in advance. It’s charming, yes, but it also magnifies how stretched we become during this season.
December also turns homes into work sites. Preparing for Christmas and the New Year is never a simple household task. It’s a series of errands: buying ingredients before prices soar, hunting for gifts that match each person’s taste, cleaning every corner of the house for incoming relatives, and securing extra chairs because December seems to multiply guests. I’ve spent entire afternoons in long supermarket lines, watching people balance hams, spaghetti packs, and boxes of fruit while silently calculating expenses. It’s festive, but it leaves everyone breathless.
And while the season is filled with color, lights, and laughter, it also strains the wallets. I’ve felt the weight of that strain myself—gifts to buy, contributions to give, meals to prepare, donations to extend. Filipinos rarely attend gatherings empty-handed, even when money is tight. There’s generosity in that, but also pressure. Many folks stretch their budgets to the breaking point just to meet the social expectations woven into December. The joy is absolute, but so is the worry sitting quietly underneath.
Yet despite the chaos, there’s a tenderness in the way December is handled. I’ve seen jeepney drivers hang cheap tinsel around their windshields just to join the cheer. Street vendors wrap their tables with scraps of gift wrappers. Children practice carols on street corners, their voices rising above traffic noise. The frenzy softens whenever I remember that this is how they create meaning: by giving, gathering, preparing, and insisting on joy even when life feels like a race.
Still, as much as I like the season, I often wonder whether the wiser path is to rethink how we move through December—maybe slow down a little, trim the unnecessary noise, and keep only the traditions that bring warmth rather than stress. There is beauty in celebration, but it shouldn’t drown us. If we could lighten our loads, honor our limits, and embrace the season without sacrificing our well-being, maybe December would feel less like a marathon and more like the homecoming it was meant to be. A time to remember and celebrate the coming of the redeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ, though not exactly December time.
