I didn’t know what this Christmas season would look like for my family. It’s always been our favorite time of year as we celebrate both the birth of Jesus Christ and my sister, but this year, things felt different. Earlier in the year, we received news that threatened to upend our usual Christmas dynamics, something we weren’t looking forward to.
It was in those seasons that I realized how much my faith in God and the support of our family community really mattered.
That support shone through on December 14, 2025, when a winter storm hit New Jersey, New York, and Connecticut. As a native Guyanese who grew up in tropical weather but watched classic Christmas movies, snow has always excited me. On the 14th, however, it was the last thing I wanted to see.
My mom, my sister, and I stayed in New York the day before to prepare for a children’s party I was hosting at my church the next day. The plan that Sunday was for my dad — who’d stayed home Saturday — to drive to New York after church, pick us up, and bring us back to CT. But with the heavy snow, he was stuck, which meant we’d have to commute home by train. The snow was beautiful, but the cold was brutal.
The family friends we were staying with jumped into action, making sure we were well clothed and got to the train station, something we greatly appreciated. Our wait at the Long Island Rail Road station, however, felt endless. We had just missed the train we needed and had to wait an hour for the next one since it was off-peak. The wind lashed my cheeks, my eyes watered, and my toes felt numb as we stood outside because the indoor waiting room was closed for the weekend.
It took about two hours to get home, and I was exhausted. After a hearty meal and reflection on my day, I felt two things: sadness and great joy. (How contradictory, I know.) Sadness lingered because when I arrived at the Connecticut station, I saw an unhoused woman — far more underdressed than I was — asking for cash. She wasn’t shaking from the cold, but rather, out of desperation, she asked for a dollar to get something hot to eat. I thought about all the other people struggling in that weather, using the little they have just to stay warm. The extreme cold I had felt moments before gave way to a warmth of appreciation for what I have.
For me, the contrast was clear: I was moving from bitter cold into a warm car driven by a father who loved me and wanted me to feel comforted. I didn’t have to commute through that storm alone; I was with my mother and sister, and we kept each other’s spirits up. How blessed am I!
They say Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year… and I realize that’s only true for some people. It’s wonderful for those who have warmth, meals, and family to celebrate with. But others are unhoused and forced to sleep in the cold, while some are lonely with no real reason to celebrate. When you think about it that way, even the little things, a warm home, a family that loves you, feel like great gifts.
The joy of the season finally hit home when I returned to our house. My dad rushed out to shovel the sidewalks and driveway, and before long, our neighbor showed up with his snowblower and cleared every path — no charge. When we tried to help, he refused,
saying just watching was enough. You don’t see that kind of generosity every day. What sealed the joy of the season for me was that the issue that could have changed how we spent the holiday was resolved. We were able to be together, free of immediate stress, and grateful to be alive at year’s end.
So this Christmas, even if the space beneath your tree wasn’t overflowing with gifts, or you didn’t have a tree at all, know there’s something to be grateful for. Look around; I’m sure you’ll find it.
Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year. ~ Shanaé H.
