It was December, thin air chilling, as I looked out the car window. My mom’s car was a warm white, glowing in the night as we drove to the AGIF Church. Even wrapped in layers of clothes, cold managed to pour in, freezing my mind. As I stepped down, looking towards the black gate, puffs of vapor came out of my mouth like a train. At the door, two receptionists welcomed me, mouths curling up, their skin a shade of hot chocolate, a sense of belonging. The air suddenly went heavy, like a bear hug, suffocating yet reassuring. People huddled toward the door and waited for it to open. Squished into the door, I stared up at the enormous cross that seems to go towards the sky.   

"Everyone, go upstairs, it is full down here!” A cheery voice echoed the huge space, urging me to go upstairs alone, with no-one beside.  

Upon reaching the second floor, crowds of people took over the aisles. Each marked their territory, leaving the odd ones out. Kids running, old couples sitting, babies sleeping, friends and family laughing, and there’s me, settled on an empty bench. Soon, the light dimmed, and people started to quiet down.  

“Hello, can I sit here?” stated an old man. 

“Sure.” The old man sat beside me, we smiled and shook hands, a polite gesture, and looked toward the stage.  

The priests talked as I looked around the church. Two long screens displayed on each side of the stage. A small room full of instruments was hidden from view. As the priests mentioned a quote from the Bible, the old man took out his own Bible. I glanced around. Bibles were everywhere, all colorful and different from each other, yet visible in everyone’s hands. I felt out of touch as everyone seemed to prepare their own Bible, while I still didn’t have one. Bag around my neck, I touched my phone, hoping just to call back home, leaving. Or I could borrow my mom’s. But she was busy, at a Chinese church meeting. What do I do? For now, I could just look around, acting like I was busy. I could listen to music. No, it seemed rude to do so in a church. Sleeping? No, too rude. I could take out my phone and act like I am reading a digital Bible. No, I’m not that good at acting. Panic overtook my thought. Do they see-CLAP! The sound of Bibles closing sent me back to the situation.   

“It’s time to sing!” The priests, delighted, motioned for us to get up.  

Hurriedly, I stood up as everyone already did. The lyrics appeared on the two long screens. Everyone seemed to be so familiar with the song, closing their eyes and singing out their hearts. My eyes focused on the lyrics, not daring to sing any word wrong.   

In front of me, I saw a group of friends, all laughing, hugging, crying, enjoying the moment. Their smiles were so wide, so pure. It soothed me somehow, seeing them happy. Listening to the chorus, the mixture of cries and laughs, I felt a sense of accompaniment. It seemed to soothe me somehow, knowing how the music affected others.   

My eyes went back to the screen. After reading each word, singing them out, I was awakened, sent out from my physical body. The melody of voices and instruments together brought out the words, as it reminded me of why I was here in the first place: to connect with the Lord. Even after rounds and rounds of songs, the numbness of my feet felt nothing compare to the moment with the Lord.   

The church felt warmer than before, and my vision blurred. Spiritually, I could feel someone beside me, and I don’t feel so alone anymore.   

Christmas had begun.   

“Silent night, holy night...”  

Each word was like ocean waves, sending a message that “you are not alone”. The smile on my face seemed to never drop. Looking at the cross in the middle, I understood why people would come all the way here, in the cold Christmas, around strangers. Because they also felt connected to the Lord. As we sat back down, I looked at the old man, and when he smiled back at me, genuinely, I smiled back.   

Time sped down, taking me back in the cold, looking back at the black gate. As the glowing car came up, I stepped inside, closing the door, CLICK, and stared towards the night. Even without the stars, I could see a faint light, telling me that the Lord is there, looking after me.   

“Mom.”  

“Yeah?”  

“I’m not alone anymore.”  

“Really?”  

“I made a friend I never realized was always beside me.”   

“And who is it?”   

“Well, it’s the Lord.”   

The smile stuck to my face, drifting off to sleep, as I felt the warmth beside me.