For most people reading this, Christmas is a normal thing. You’ve celebrated it all your life. You have so many memories tied to it.
But for me, Christmas 2023 was special.
I grew up in Punjab, India, in a place where we never celebrated Christmas. There was nothing festive about this time of year in my hometown. There is a reason for that. I belong to a Sikh family, and I am Sikh by religion. For Sikhs, late December is a solemn time marked by the martyrdom of Guru Gobind Singh Ji’s sons and Mata Gujri Ji, commemorated through Shaheedi Diwas.
So while Christmas celebrates joy and festivity, Sikhs reflect on sacrifice, faith, and resilience during this period.
However, Sikhs in multicultural societies may participate in Christmas celebrations socially while honouring their own traditions.
Therefore, my only experience of Christmas came from movies and Netflix.
As a child, I remember often wondering about this holiday. I would ask my mother, “Why doesn’t Santa Claus come to our house? Why doesn’t he bring me gifts?”
Growing up, I felt left out. I had access to the internet and friends from around the world, many of whom I met through making music and playing video games. They shared pictures of Christmas celebrations with their families, making me long for something I never had.
Back in my hometown, life during Christmas was just like any other day. It certainly wasn’t “the most wonderful time of the year” for us.
Everything changed when I moved to Canada in 2023. I met many wonderful people, including my friend Evan. I was introduced to him in November of that year through one of my teachers, who knew that I wanted to write a book about being an immigrant. My teacher suggested Evan because he helped people write, as well as being a great editor.
And through Evan, I was introduced to Niverville. Sometimes he would pick me up from the city because I didn’t have a car and take me to this town. We would spend hours working on my book project.
Then something crazy happened.
Just a day before Christmas Eve, Evan asked me about my plans for Christmas.
“Nothing, as usual, because I have never celebrated Christmas before,” I replied.
“Maybe I should invite you to our family Christmas tomorrow,” he suggested.
It sounded almost like a joke, so I joked about saying yes. Of course I would love to join!
And then the invitation became serious. Maybe he really would invite me. He just needed to ask his parents, since they were hosting.
I prayed that night, asking God, “Please let them say yes to this random Indian guy joining their family Christmas!”
Evan called me the next morning, and to my surprise it turned out that his parents had agreed to the idea. I was overjoyed. This was going to be my first Christmas ever!
I was buzzing with excitement when he picked me up on Christmas Eve. I had never met anyone else in this family before, although he had told me about them. His father and mine shared many interests, including local politics, and had similar values when it came to supporting people and the community.
When we arrived, his parents greeted me warmly. Soon we made our way downstairs to the basement where the family room was decorated and the large table set for dinner. Everyone slowly gathered and I had to take a moment to grasp that this was really happening.
This feels like a scene out of a Netflix Christmas movie, I thought to myself.
The family made me feel so welcome that night. We sat down for a meal and they explained their Christmas tradition of having fondue. I had never heard of fondue before, but they were kind enough to walk me through it.
One small but deeply meaningful moment stands out to me. They had nametags at each place setting at the table—and sure enough, my name was there next to a plate. It may seem like a small thing to most people, but to me it symbolized belonging. As an immigrant in a new country, seeing my name printed on that card made me feel like I was part of something.
I took a picture of that nametag and sent it to my mother. She was so happy to see that I had made new friends and was part of a family gathering.
Throughout the evening, I talked to Evan’s siblings, parents, and other relatives. Everyone was so kind and welcoming. They treated me not like a stranger, but like family. It was a warm and joyful night filled with love and laughter.
I also received my first Christmas gift ever that night—a book. It was part of their tradition of exchanging books, and it meant so much to me.
At the end of the night, I thanked them all for inviting me.
“No,” they replied. “Thank you for joining us.”
Everything about that evening was a lot of fun, and I remain so grateful to the family for hosting my first-ever Christmas.
On the way back home, I told Evan that I wanted to do something special to thank his family for hosting me. I proposed that I could bring some of the best Indian food from the city to their place, treating them to a nice dinner with the dishes that meant so much to me. They agreed and a few days later we made this happen.
Over the last year, I have grown closer to the Braun family. I now refer to Clarence as Mr. Clare and Ruth as Miss Ruth. They, along with their whole family, have been incredibly kind and supportive. Who would have thought that Mr. Clare and Miss Ruth would end up coming to my university graduation a few months later? Even crazier, that I would end up living with them in their house in Niverville someday?
That is the story of my first-ever Christmas, and to me it truly is a Christmas miracle.
