A Susan & Oishi Christmas Story About the True Gift of Christmas
Oishi narrating
Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock…
My tail has been on overtime lately. Christmas party here, Christmas party there. And you know what parties mean?
Chicken.
Kris Kringle.
Dancing.
By the end of the night, Sus and I were so tired she gave me a bath like the baby prince that I am, made hot cocoa, and turned on the Christmas tree.
Our living room is small and simple, but when the tree lights up, it’s like someone pressed “cozy mode” on heaven’s remote. Rain outside, warm lights inside, hot cocoa in our paws and hands… I thought, Perfect. I’m going to sleep like the emotionally stable dog I am.
And then Sus sighed.
I knew it. The moment was too magical. She was about to ruin it.
I braced myself.
Susan narrating
Badoodle and I were staring at the Christmas tree. It felt magical.
Rain tapping on the roof, hot cocoa beside me, a little cold breeze coming through the window. I hugged my teddy bear. I used to hug Oishi, but he secretly hates it. He won’t say it, but his face screams, “Ma’am, boundaries.”
Tonight he looked extra soft, eyes shining at the lights like a little kid. I was about to tease him for being dramatic, then I realized—wait. Are those tears? Wow. Okay. Dog is emotional.
A soft “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” was playing in the background. That song always hits me in the chest. And suddenly, under all the party food and Christmas noise… I felt it.
This tiny ache.
Discontent.
Not because I don’t have blessings. I do. But still… something felt missing. Like everyone else got a manual for “How to Live a Beautiful Life,” and I’m just here winging it with coffee and petty thoughts.
Then I had an idea.
I know what will make me happy.
I grabbed paper and pen like a woman on mission.
Dear Jesus,
How are You? I’m okay but I feel sad and discontent.
I know what will make me happy:
– a new iPhone
– the hot pink car I’ve been eyeing
– a trip to Paris (yes Lord, PARIS)
And please, no more Tijibiduri Island, I learned my lesson.
Thank You, Lord. I’ll wait for my gifts tomorrow.
I was about to add a fancy closing line when a light turned on in the kitchen.
Badoodle and I jumped.
He’s here.
Jesus.
He did say, “Ask and you shall receive,” right?
Oishi narrating
Every time I see Him, my tail acts like it’s on praise-and-worship mode. I don’t know how to explain it—I just feel safe around Him. Peaceful. Like everything noisy inside my head suddenly sits down.
He smiled at us, and my heart did a little flip. I still don’t fully understand why His hands have scars, but I know it must have hurt… and yet His eyes are kind.
I ran to Him and gently nibbled the edge of His robe. Sus hugged Him like a kid who just spotted her dad at the airport holding balloons and Jollibee.
She went on and on about her letter.
“Lord, I feel sad and I know what can make me happy…”
She recited the list like a shopping catalogue. New iPhone, hot pink car, Paris trip.
Jesus listened, smiled, and said calmly,
“Go and get your winter clothes. We’re going somewhere.”
I got excited. Also scared. I don’t own winter clothes.
Susan narrating
We changed as fast as we could—jackets, bonnets, boots for me; tiny winter outfit for Badoodle. One blink later, we were standing in a place covered in snow.
Real snow.
I’d never seen it before. Oishi immediately dove nose-first into it like a furry torpedo. He barked at the reindeers. Rudolph barked back. Next thing I knew, they were playing tag.
We were at the North Pole.
This day was getting better and better.
Santa was exactly how you imagine him: big, jolly, and definitely not keto. I won’t describe his whole look—you know the brand. But I will tell you this: the way his face lit up when he saw Jesus…
“Lord! I’m so happy to see You again!” he boomed.
“What brings You here? Another mixed-up wish?”
Jesus smiled and handed him my letter.
For a second, I froze.
Why was Jesus giving SANTA the wish list I wrote for HIM?
I tried not to overthink it. Maybe this is like divine logistics, I told myself. Outsourcing.
While they talked, we wandered around. We played with the reindeer, tasted candy canes, and watched elves work. For a moment, I felt like a kid again.
Then an elf walked up to me.
“Sus! Here’s your gift!”
He placed something in my hands.
A rubber duck.
Not even a regular one—a rubber duck doing a duck face, like it was judging my life choices.
I stared at it.
I stared at the elf.
“You must be mistaken,” I said. “I asked for—”
and I showed him my list: iPhone, hot pink car, Paris, the works.
But Jesus was nowhere to be found.
And for the first time that day, something stung.
Did He… leave without saying goodbye?
Why did He hand my list to Santa?
The elf looked at me kindly.
“It’s simple,” he said. “Santa is for toys. Jesus is for the important things. Toys are the material stuff—phones, cars, even trips. Jesus is… well, Bread of Life. Living Water. Peace.”
He shrugged.
“Not saying toys are bad. Some things we ask for are real needs. But they’ll never be as important as Him.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just squeezed the duck. It squeaked at me like it agreed with the elf.
Oishi narrating
Santa asked us to help with gift-giving.
To this day, I still don’t understand how Susan and I fit through chimneys. Must be a miracle or an animation budget thing.
We handed out gifts. Kids squealed, jumped, hugged their toys like treasure.
Watching them, I felt something strange—soft and quiet. They were so easy to please. A small doll, a car, a stuffed animal… and their faces glowed. Content.
For a moment, Sus looked like she wanted to be a kid again too. Just happy with small things, not haunted by bills, deadlines, and existential dread.
We hopped back into the sleigh. I loved it. Wind in my fur, stars overhead, whole world below us. Sus… not so much. She clutched her rubber duck like a seatbelt and screamed every time the sleigh tilted.
Eventually, we were tired. And underneath the fun, I could feel it—Sus kept glancing around, searching.
For Him.
She wanted to tell Jesus about the duck.
So did I.
Susan narrating
Santa dropped us off with a warm “Ho ho ho!” and a wink. We waved goodbye, and as the sleigh disappeared into the sky, my heart felt oddly heavy.
I still had the rubber duck.
I still didn’t have an iPhone.
Or a hot pink car.
Or tickets to Paris.
And I still hadn’t seen Jesus since He handed my letter to Santa.
I opened the front door—
—and my knees almost gave out.
He was there.
Standing behind the kitchen table, light warm around Him, like the whole room had been waiting too.
“I’ve been waiting for you two,” He said gently. “Come. I prepared food.”
On the table: a simple loaf of bread. Two mugs of hot cocoa. No feast, no lechon, no unlimited milktea. Just… enough.
“How was your day? Did you like your gift?”
Before I could answer, He picked up a small box on the table. It glowed softly.
This time, I wasn’t thinking about gadgets or cars. I only knew—whatever was inside, it mattered.
He placed it in my hands.
When I opened it, a glowing heart rose like a little hologram. On it, one word:
LOVE.
And suddenly it hit me.
How could I forget?
Jesus isn’t just the Giver—He is the gift.
It doesn’t mean I’ll never ask for “toys” again. I still want trips and phones and maybe that car (not necessarily hot pink—mature growth, hello). But I finally saw what mattered more.
Someone once said He became human, carried our sins, and suffered… just to be with us and save us. Sitting there, it wasn’t just a line from a sermon. It felt personal.
I could almost hear Angelusito whispering,
“Imagine a God who does all that… just so He can sit at your small table tonight.”
I started to cry.
I hugged Jesus like I wasn’t afraid to need Him anymore. Somehow Oishi managed to hug Him too—I don’t know how; the physics of dog hugs are mysterious.
We broke the bread.
We drank the cocoa.
No fireworks. No background choir. Just deep, quiet peace.
Best dinner ever.
The end. ♡🐾
Short Reflection
Sometimes we treat Jesus like a more powerful Santa—someone who exists mainly to deliver the life we’ve imagined: better gadgets, nicer house, easier story.
But the heart of Christmas isn’t that He upgrades our wish list. It’s that He came down to sit at our small, imperfect table. In the Bible, Jesus calls Himself the “bread of life” and offers “living water” that truly satisfies. The idea is: material gifts can be good, but they’re never enough on their own. They expire. He doesn’t.
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