The clock struck 12:00. "Merry Christmas, "I whispered to myself, feeling the warmth of the first teardrop trickling down my cheek. As I lay awake staring at the ceiling, the room's darkness mirrored, even magnified, how I was feeling inside. This would be my first Christmas away from home, and it was as if the holiday spirit had been knocked right out of me.

December marked the fourth month I'd been away from my home in the Philippines attending college in the United States. Although I'd been enjoying my new experience, the separation from family and friends hadn't always been easy. So my mom had suggested that I spend the holidays with distant relatives in California. "Great!" I thought at the time. "There's nothing better than spending my favorite time of year with people I've never even met before."

When I arrived, loneliness caused me to act with feigned delight as I mingled with my relatives for the first time.

There were numerous occasions of awkwardness and shyness marked by uncomfortable silences and forced smiles. Trying to keep up appearances, I did my best at maintaining my poise. I didn't want my relatives to feel bad! But as soon as I was alone, I started crying in desperation. I wanted to hug something more than just a pillow that had no trace of home's scent.

That Christmas Eve, the tears flowed for a while. I felt justified in feeling this sadness. But I reached a point where I just couldn't cry anymore. Then I heard it. A "still small voice," a message from God delivering its message strongly, but with tenderness. It came with a clarity that awakened me as I heard, "Here you are spending a holiday that celebrates love, and you're refusing to love."

It was the splash of cold water I needed to shake me out of my despair. And the inspiration didn't stop there. The thought came: "Why are you depriving these people of your love? And why are you depriving yourself of their love?"

I suddenly remembered what I cherish most about Christmas: It allows me to witness extraordinary expressions of love and generosity. It had never been about me. It had always been about love. I'd been so engrossed with what I was missing that I'd forgotten where I always had been—safe in divine Love's haven.

I started crying again, but this time out of gratitude for God's comforting embrace. I knew right then that I was loved no matter where I was or whom I was with. And the best part was that I actually felt it.

I remembered something a Christian Science practitioner told me before I left the Philippines for college. It was to expand my sense of brotherhood and sisterhood, and I realized this meant broadening my sense of family, too. I started thinking about home and family from a spiritual perspective, starting off with what Mary Baker Eddy wrote in Science and Health: "Home is the dearest spot on earth, and it should be the centre, though not the boundary, of the affections" (p.58). I find it interesting that Mrs. Eddy didn't associated home with either a physical location or people, but with affection.

I realized that I bring the qualities of home with me wherever I am because they're rooted in divine Love, the source of everyone's affections. These qualities are present in everyone and available anywhere. The wonderful thing about Love's nature is that we never run out of it. Because we can't deplete its source, we can always freely express it without restraint.

That night, I made a conscious decision to take God's hand as a child. To be the child who didn't know anything outside of Love and couldn't express anything against Love's nature.

I woke up on Christmas morning feeling energized and inspired. I greeted my relatives with openness and joy. There wasn't any more of the awkwardness we'd experienced the day before. We conversed as if we'd known each other our whole lives. It was a wonderful Christmas.

"...Love is reflected in love," Science and Health assures us (p.17). To me, that means that Love enriches our lives whenever and wherever we courageously express it.

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