A Malaysian Christmas Memory
When I was a child growing up in Malaysia, Christmas never came with snow. The air was hot and heavy, palm trees shimmered with strings of lights, and carols floated through the hum of ceiling fans. Malaysia is a Muslim country—only about nine percent of the population is Christian—yet every December, the whole nation seems to glow. Neighbors of every faith exchange cookies, hang lights, and share in the joy. Christmas there isn't just a religious holiday; it's a celebration of welcome—a season when strangers become neighbors and neighbors become friends.
A First Christmas in Wyckoff
Now, many years later, I find myself celebrating my first Christmas in Wyckoff. It is a beautiful town—orderly streets, well-kept homes, people who have lived here for generations. It's a place that takes pride in its roots and traditions—and like many such places, it can sometimes be a hard place to enter.
We've All Been the Newcomer
As someone born in Korea, raised in Malaysia, and having called several places home before coming to New Jersey, I've often been "the newcomer." I know the quiet hesitation that comes when people pause over your name, the smile that's polite but not yet personal. Still, when I look back, I realize something: we've all been newcomers somewhere. We've all known the uneasy feeling of walking into a room where everyone already knows one another, of trying to find our place, our footing, our welcome.
Maybe it was moving into a new neighborhood, starting a new job, or stepping into a season of life where everything felt uncertain. Somewhere along the way, each of us has been the stranger in the story. And each of us remembers what it felt like when someone made room for us—when a simple kindness turned a strange place into something that began to feel like home.
The Heart of Hospitality
The Bible expresses it beautifully:
"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." —Hebrews 13:2
That verse reminds us that hospitality isn't only about opening our doors—it's about opening our eyes and our hearts. It's noticing the person who might otherwise go unseen, and creating space for connection.
Small Gestures, Quiet Power
This Christmas, I find myself reflecting on what true welcome looks like. Perhaps it begins with something simple: a greeting that lingers a little longer, a conversation over coffee, a moment of genuine curiosity about another's story. These gestures may seem small, but they carry quiet power. They can turn polite towns into compassionate communities.
Wyckoff is already a beautiful place, full of care and character. What makes it even more beautiful is when that care extends beyond the familiar. Each act of welcome strengthens the warmth that already defines this town. The light of Christmas, after all, shines brightest not when it stays inside, but when it spills outward.
May love open our doors, soften our hearts, and remind us that in welcoming others, we often find the grace we ourselves have been longing for.
About the Author
Rev. Gieun Lee is the pastor of Advent Lutheran Church in Wyckoff. A former high school teacher who taught Korean, special education, and math for eight years, she also serves as a chaplain in the U.S. Army Reserve. She is a lifelong learner who finds joy in discovering new ideas, sharing stories over good coffee, and building genuine connections with people. She lives in Wyckoff with her husband, also a pastor, and their 10-year-old son, who loves baseball. She believes that the heart of community is found in kindness and welcome.
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