Merry Christmas, everyone. For half of my childhood, I didn’t celebrate Christmas. By the time I did, it didn’t hold as much significance for me. Then in my 30s, on Christmas Day, my dad left my mom, and we, my siblings and I, were waiting for him to return home. I let these events weigh on me, but I came to a realization: the reason behind this observation of this day is never been about me; it’s about God and the gift he gave. This realization brings tears to my eyes. I can never give a gift good enough than the one I freely accepted from God. Of course, we don’t know what day it happened, and it doesn’t matter.