ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS: Christmas in Two Time Zones

For Filipinos, Christmas is a special holiday that they celebrate with family or someone they love: the long-awaited reunions, adults giving gifts, silly party games, and a warm feast of Noche Buena that brings everyone together. While homes across the country glow with colorful parols, over 2.16 million Filipinos are spending their holidays thousands of miles away—packing their “balikbayan” boxes instead of gifts, sending videos instead of hugs, and celebrating Christmas through a screen that flickers with delayed laughter.

International Migrants Day honors these invisible heavyweights that are carried by overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) every day. It is a reminder that behind every remittance is a story of resilience, sacrifice, and the quiet ache of loving from afar. And this is more deeply felt than during Christmas, where families are supposed to sit at the dining table together, bonding, and making new memories. Yet, for OFWs, this holiday feels both familiar and painfully distant.

What Do They Want to Receive 

OFWs are called the “modern heroes” for their significant contributions to the country's economy for many years—their unwavering perseverance despite unjust working conditions, discrimination, social isolation, and the inevitable anguish of homesickness. They are the people who keep the country standing, even standing far from it. And behind their sacrifices, echoes a secret hope in their heart.

The December in Qatar that feels warm during the day and cool breeze at night faintly recalls for a 27-year-old hospital nurse, Sharmaine, the home country she left behind. Despite the similarities, it cannot compare to the comforting and familiar heat she’s longing for—wishing that the warmth she feels under the foreign sky were the same kind that comes from her family's laughter in the Philippines. 

“I miss my family. The moments we eat together. The bonding and laughter,” Sharmaine said. As much as she misses these things, she could unfortunately only spend Christmas across oceans, away from her mother's delicious food, her father's corny yet funny jokes—away from her kid who’s starting to grow up without her. The dining table she hasn't sat at for many years now replaces a meal over a screen. This Christmas, she only has one simple wish:  a warm greeting from her family. 

What They Wish to Carry

Inside a cardboard box lies a t-shirt for kuya, shoes for bunso, a bag for lola, and alcohol for the husband. Every item has a story, but tucked between them is something weightless yet heaviest of all—the guilt, longing, and responsibility inside every box. This Christmas, 32-year-old mother of two named Ayyen knows that the closest thing to a hug is whatever she can fit in the balikbayan box.

“I wish I could bring home all the wishlist that my family wants for Christmas,” Ayyen lamented. Being a domestic helper in Macau is not easy, especially that it's been five years since she last saw and hugged her family. Time flies, and her little babies are now grown up and spreading their wings in college. Five years full of video calls, Facebook chats, and online Christmas. When was the last time she even cooked adobo for them—her youngest’s favorite food? She could only reminisce about her memory.

Inside the deepest corner of her heart, she knows that what she really wanted to bring home was herself–her presence; her comforting warmth that no gold or jewelry that she brings home can match; her attending and completing the simbang gabi, enjoying the Noche Buena she personally prepared, exchanging gifts instead of just sending it, and hearing her kids bickering nonstop. She longed for their presence and yearned to be with them.

A home that is built from sacrifice

Filipino Christmas is a family gathering—a happy reunion. They may spend another Christmas apart, but in the end, both believe that distance will not last forever. The hope that someday every sacrifice they endure will lead them home was enough to keep them going and trying. Their presence lingers—in every chocolate they send, the stories they tell, and the hope they leave behind every time they say, “Ingat kayo diyan,” radiates all their love even across continents. 

For OFWs, home is not the country they left behind but the people waiting for them. The distance may reshape what Christmas looks like for millions of Filipinos, but it never changes what Christmas feels like. They may not come home this year, but home waits. Home remembers. Home keeps a chair at the table, a plate for Noche Buena, and a space in every heart. One works in the desert country, while the other awaits—two completely different time zones, yet both cherished every borrowed time. They believed that love always finds its way home and that the blurry screen will soon be replaced by a warm embrace.

Article: Danica Fabonan

Graphics: Ericka Castillo