A little piece of Home

 

Christmas in the U.S. sucks.

And for an extrovert like me who’s used to having a swamped sked for Christmas parties in Manila, Homesickness is becoming a recurring affliction nowadays.

It doesn’t help, too, that whenever I open my Facebook account, everybody’s status message contains the words “hangover”, “party”, “reunion”, or worse “Home for Christmas” and “Manila, here I come.”

Now I understand why the suicide rate is higher on the Holidays.

Ok, so It’s not like I am totally isolated from the rest of the universe. We had a party in our office, too, but most of my co-workers brought their families with them. I only had my shadow to bring to the event.

One bright ray of sunshine is the fact that I have not gotten over the awe of Nature’s frosted precipitation.I still feel like a kid whenever snow starts falling on my head. I try to resist the urge to sit down and play on a snow pile or trying to catch snowflakes on my tongue while walking to work- to keep me from getting sick and from being labeled as  a total lunatic.

Other than that, I only have my Charlaine Harris’ books to look forward to this season.

The excitement of being far away from home, on my own in a distinctly foreign land is slowly wearing away. The insulation brought by the hormonal reaction triggered by this emotion is tapering off and I can slowly feel the effects of being alone.

Being in this zone prompted me to find ways to keep myself occupied. I got a hold of the Simbang Gabi schedule and decided to attend at least one.

The thing is, here in Chicago, not all churches offer Simbang Gabi. For each of the 9 days of the Novena mass, only a handful churches celebrate mass and literally, it’s at night, 7 pm. I don’t think the priests could even get up at dawn with weather as it is over here.

I passed up the chance to go downtown with my bosses to attend mass. It was the first time for me to take the bus at night with snow on the ground.

It was so damn cold! Good thing I checked Google for the bus sked so I didn’t freeze my buns completely. Walking down the street after getting off the bus, I went straight to a building with a cross on top of it. I didn’t even realize there were no cars in the parking lot. I looked inside and they were locked. Funny, it was almost 7 pm. Plus, there were no chairs nor pews. I looked around and saw some Greek letters written  on the walls and it hit me that I was lost. (I later realized I went to the St. Demetrius Greek Orthodox Church..)

It was staring to get scary because no one was on the street (nobody in their right mind would be when the temp was 30 F and sliding) but I kept on walking and finally, the familiar sight of fellow Filipinos caught my eye. Instinctively, I followed them and like me, they were rushing to get inside the Church of Transfiguration. Thank God!

I entered the small doorway of the church and what I saw warmed my heart- A room-full of black-haired, mocha-skinned, short-statured people. Ahhh… Felt like i was in a Misa de Gallo in Manila, except that everyone was  a wearing winter coat.

I got in one of the unoccupied pews. The church was about to be filled up, too and people were greeting each other left and right in a conundrum of Tagalog, Ilocano, Kapampangan and Bisaya. It sounded like music to my ears. I was all alone but I felt like I was back home.

It dawned on me that Simbang Gabi in the US, particularly in Chicago, was an event that the Catholic Filipino community prepared for  for months ahead. I attended on the 5th day of the novena mass-not really the “big day” when you go to Misa de Gallo in Manila and yet, in the Church of Transfiguration where I found myself surrounded by an eager crowd, a high Mass was to be celebrated. The Archbishop of Chicago was flanked by 4 other priests to celebrate the Eucharist in that small, cramped church. True to form, our kababayans had their cameras out and ready and everyone was dressed in suits, barongs and nice dresses.

I felt so tiny standing there on my own without my family, without Ed but somehow, the warmth emanating from the people with their families, so stark from the indifferent coldness outside gave me some consolation.

The mass started with a Christmas song- in Tagalog. I can’t explain how a simple hymn in my lingua franca could break that dam in my chest. Inside, I burst into tears. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I can’t cry in front of all these people!

At that moment, I got hit by an overwhelming wave of homesickness and I remembered all the things that made Home, home -on Christmas.

I didn’t know how I was able to pull myself together to participate enthusiastically in the celebration of the mass. A few tears would trickle down my face once or twice when the choir was singing but I pretended to yawn  and put my hands on my face to discreetly wipe them away.

You can’t imagine all the thoughts running through my head and the myriad of emotions washing over me the whole hour I was in there. I felt myself going weak with nostalgia but i eventually steeled myself so I could join in that significant celebration.

In the end, I realized that despite the emotional torment I gave myself- going alone, I was ultimately glad I made an effort to brave the cold to attend Mass. In the Church of Transfiguration, I found comfort in the company of strangers. The sight of Filipino families continuing the tradition of Simbang Gabi gives me a surge of pride in being a Filipino Catholic. In a country where the Holiday celebration happens in the stores on sale,  the reminder of the Reason for the Season through this tradition is one that I need most. The Archbishop himself commended the zeal and perseverance of the Filipino community in bringing the Misa de Gallo to the US. Again, I thank the spirit that moved me to attend that celebration.

In retrospect, I knew that I would reach that point of emotionality when I decided to try my luck and go to Chicago by myself. Back then, I was so anxious to get a move on my situation that it didn’t really bother me that I didn’t have family here.  And now, I still don’t regret being here, trying out my wings, being independent. It’s one of those being we’ll all have to deal with and it’s high time for me to walk the walk.

However, it can get to you at times-homesickness. It might be a hormonal fluctuation, might be the place or the mood. It might be something you read or a memory you recalled. It might be anything and it comes over you when you least expect it, at the moment you are most susceptible to wallowing.

For me, it was that 60-minute mass. Ironically, that weak moment has given me a ray of sunshine to hold on to. I might be here, away from all that I hold dear but I’m never truly alone.

In that little church, among fellow Filipinos who left the Motherland to provide a better life for their families, I didn’t feel too lonely anymore. We all have our reasons and we all have our moments. And right now, It’s really up to me to make the most out of the situation.

Seeing all those families and remembering the wonderful family I have back home rooting for me to find my place in the sun, I was at peace.

In a place with strangers, under the Grace of one faith  and bound by a meaningful tradition, I found a little piece of home. More importantly, I realized I had  a little piece of home right inside me, too.