It’s a week before December and Christmas is in full bloom. It tiptoed in as early as September, humned through October, and by November it is fully alive—glowing in parols, whispering through Jose Mari Chan songs, and flickering on the edges of our busy days.

We have become experts at preparing our hearts early. And nowhere is this more evident than in the culture of giving that blooms long before December.

November, in many ways, is the soft opening of Christmas. It is when people begin making lists—not of gifts to receive, but of people they hope to bless. This early generosity is one of the quietly beautiful things about the Filipino spirit. For many, the season is not measured by shopping bags or grand dinners, but by the opportunity to lighten someone else’s burden, if only by a little. A kind gesture here, a simple gift there, an envelope slipped discreetly to a security guard or a tricycle driver—these are the small sparks that slowly ignite the warmth of the season.

The long Christmas season gives us time not only to prepare our homes, but to prepare our intentions. And at the heart of these intentions is a uniquely Filipino tradition: bayanihan.

Bayanihan, often evoked during calamities and community projects, takes on a gentler form during the holidays. It appears in parish efforts to gather toys for children in informal settlements. It blossoms in neighborhood pantries—yes, they still quietly exist—where people drop off pasta packs or canned goods so others can enjoy a Christmas meal. It is present in office drives collecting used clothes, or in groups of friends who decide to skip one dinner out to sponsor a family in need.

These are small, unadvertised acts, almost invisible unless you look closely. Yet they represent the deeper meaning of this season: that Christmas is not only about celebrating, but about sharing.

Perhaps this year, November offers us a gentle challenge: to allow the season to begin not with consumer rush, but with a conscious choice to practice early giving. Imagine if households, schools, or offices organized kindness projects long before the Christmas traffic sets in. A simple barangay “gift tree” where residents can hang grocery vouchers. A weekend of volunteering at shelters or community kitchens. A pledge among friends to support a small business selling homemade kakanin or handicrafts. Small, yes—but powerful in the way kindness always is.

The early start of the Christmas season gives us time to recognize the people who quietly support our daily lives: the delivery riders who bring packages under the heat; the maintenance staff who clean our public spaces; the vendors who brighten our mornings with taho or pandesal. November is a good month to begin acknowledging them—perhaps with a warm thank you, a small tip, a snack, or even just a moment of sincere conversation. These gestures, though modest, weave a fabric of everyday goodwill that defines the Filipino Christmas.

When we begin giving early, we also begin softening early. The season becomes less about the countdown to December and more about the slow nurturing of compassion. Bayanihan, then, is not a grand act—it is simply the habit of noticing others, especially those who need kindness the most.

As Christmas approaches, may November remind us that generosity need not wait for the holiday rush. In the gentle glow of the early season, we are given weeks to practice giving, sharing, and caring. And in doing so, we keep alive the best of our Filipino spirit: a Christmas that begins early, lasts long, and finds its joy not in receiving, but in the quiet, steady art of giving.

May this message touch hearts to start sharing in various small gestures. Order a drink for the food delivery rider. Give a sandwich to the traffic aide. Leave a jacket for the security guard in your building. Buy your gifts from a neighbor starting a business. Have cookies and cupcakes for the street kids offering to clean your windshield. Give way to a motorist. (Email: [email protected])