"I'm dreaming of a white Christmas" --Bing Crosby singing Irving Berlin's classic

That's a lie.  I am doing no such thing.  I would never dream of a white Christmas at such a southern locale.  I have decided to never go through a snow in a place not equipped with snow plows ever again.  It really stinks.  And since I'm dreaming of spending Christmas at my parents house (in scenic Mobile, AL), I am decidedly not dreaming of a White Christmas.

Had Christmas early with my friends on Sunday night since Kim left yesterday.  Kim had picked out and received her present when we went shopping on November 14, so there was nothing for me to wrap up for her. I got Hayden a tank for Munson his fish along with some black rocks to go along the bottom (Munson is Georgia red, the rocks are black, and apparently somebody Munson is the "Voice of the Dawgs" or some such name).  For Justin, I got a Blockbuster gift card, as hardly a week goes by when he's not going to Blockbuster.  I picked the one with a heat sensitive spot that is supposed to help you pick out what kind of movie you wanna watch.

Justin got Hayden WWII the complete DVD set (from History Channel or something) and Kim got him the Office DVD game.  Hayden didn't go shopping yet, what with graduation and entertaining family members and whatnot.

Kim got me the hardware I wanted for my chiforobe (or however you spell that ridiculous word).  They're bronze-finished and they look like they have green glass handles.  Justin got me Beatles glasses which rock.  He remembered that I liked the Beatles, which is true, though, I'm impressed because I've mentioned it maybe twice ever in our acquaintance.  It makes me want to hunt up that episode of the Power Puff Girls where they speak in nothing but Beatles lyrics.  That's my favorite episode.

"Is not the festive season when families and friends exchange gifts in memory of The Gift...to send forth the good tidings of great joy into all the earth?' --Lottie Moon

I was talking one day with a Christian friend about Lottie Moon, and she didn't know who Lottie was.  I was scandalized.  It took me a moment to remember that Lottie was a Baptist, so if you're not Baptist you probably don't know who she is.  Of course, there are many Baptists who were never GA's or in the WMU so they never learned WHO Lottie was, they just heard her name at Christmas time when the church was begging money for the foreign missionaries.

The whole concept of not knowing who that amazing personage was is a bit traumatizing to me.  I hold her on high as a beacon.  I know we should strive to be like Jesus, but sometimes we need a flesh-and-blood model to watch.  For me, it's Lottie Moon.

She was a single missionary to China in a time when no single lady did anything.  She was born in Viriginia in 1840, and was a rascally young lady.  She was a prankster who hated authority and loved fun.  At eighteen, her mother's prayers were finally answered and she surrendered to God.  She went to college and became a teacher, before finally at age 33 accepting the call to go to China.

She stuck out sorely when she first arrived in China, despite the fact that she was only 4' 3" tall.  She still wore her American clothes.  The Chinese people, afraid of her differences, called her the "Foreign Devil."

Lottie was perplexed on how to make friends with the Chinese people.  She took two major actions to help bridge that gap.  The first, was to dress like them.  Paul said that he became all things to all people so that he might reach some.  Lottie did no different.  By donning the clothes of those around her, she was able to show them that she was willing to meet them were they were.

Her second major action, was that she won the hearts of the Chinese children.  How does one do that?  You feed them yummy things.  She started to make tea cookies for all the children in the villages she worked with.  After making pals with the children, they would invite her home to meet their mothers.  Through these relationships, she won people to Christ, and people stopped calling her the "Foreign Devil."   They started calling her the "Cookie Lady," instead.  And I don't know about you, but I can deal with being called the "Cookie Lady."  In fact, I have been called the "Brownie Lady" before.

She served the people of China for nearly forty years--through hardships, wars, and famine.  In fact, at one point she was giving away all of her food to her Chinese friends, knowing that she could do with less.  Unfortunately, her heart was larger than her needs.  In 1912 her missionary friends found out that she had nearly starved herself to death (she weighed only 50 pounds).  They put her on a ship against her will to take her back to the states to see proper doctors.  She died, though, on the ship while they were docked in Kobe Japan, still close to her to beloved China, on Christmas Eve.

What an awesome testimony.  In 1912, 72 wasn't particularly young.  She had lived a long, full life, and she had lived all but eighteen years of it for God.  Nearly forty were spent sharing with those who had never heard the Good News of Jesus.  And then, she died on the day before we celebrate the Lord's birth, after starving herself to death for others.  I think we could all do worse than Lottie.

Every year, the WMU (Women's Missionary Union) has a special offering time in the month of December to take up money for the International Missions Board.  In 1887, Lottie wrote to a foreign missions journal, asking for a time of giving to be set aside for foreign missions.  The ladies of the Baptist world took this as a rallying cry and formed the Women's Missionary Union (an auxilliary to the Southern Baptist Church), with the purpose to educate women and children about missions.  They also set aside the Christmas season to collect money for missionaries--just as Lottie asked.  The very first Christmas Offering was collected in 1888, and the grand total rang up to $3,315 (which would be worth about $77,000 today).  This was enough money to send three new missionaries to China.  Ever since then, the WMU has hosted a Christmas Offering.  In 1919, Annie Armstrong, the founder of the WMU, suggested that the Christmas Offering be named in Lottie's honor.  In 1926, the name change was official, and ever since then, the WMU has sponsored the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering.

I think about her alot this time of year.  I grew up in GA's, the WMU's program for young girls, and Lottie and Annie were our heroes.  They changed the world in a time when women didn't change anything.  They reminded us that our contributions, large and small, mattered--to God if to no one else.  Lottie was a miscreant and a trouble maker that no one ever thought would amount to anything.  But she did.

We're going caroling as a church next Wednesday, and returning for hot-cocoa and cookies.  I think I'll make some of Lottie Moon's tea cookies, though I think I'm just going to modify the measurements of her original recipe instead of making the "redone" recipe that the WMU provides.

Sources: 
IMB's Letter Archive (archives some of Lottie's letters)
Measuring Worth (value of money conversion)
Article on Lottie Moon (Wikipedia--the internet's most reliable resource.)
WMU's Lottie Moon Focus (Facts about Lottie, the Christmas Offering, and Cookie Recipe)

"Dawn: when men of reason go to bed." --Ambrose Bierce

I can't sleep.  Not really.  For some reason, it is fifty percent elusive.  I'm just awake enough to not be able to sleep, but I can hardly get anything done sensibly--like typing.  I apologize in advance for any mistakes ahead of time.  I'm just sleepy.  But not sleepy enough to sleep.  So I'm wakey?  Slakey?

One thing I've noticed is that I'm mostly frustrated right now, which makes me want to cry, which is totally unproductive in this case.  Crying will do nothing for me at this point.  My eyes are already sore, and that doesnt' help me sleep.

Kim and I found a Christmas tree today.  We found a fifty dollar tree at Big Lots that I quite like.  It's full enough, though a little thin, and plenty tall enough.  Too much taller, and we wouldn't be able to fit it in the living room.  All in all, it's the best thing for that price.

"Santa Claus has the right idea: visit people once a year." --Victor Borge

I was thoroughly traumatized as a child.  For some reason, I have always been afraid of people dressing up as other people/things.  For example, when we first moved to Pinson, Alabama, a Little Caesar's Pizza opened up on the same strip as our grocery store.  One day, my mother took me on what should have been a boring and mundaine grocery run, and it turned into one of the most traumatic events of my life.  As part of their grand opening, they hired someone to dress up in a Little Caesar's mascot costume thing (like Mickey Mouse but Little Caesar), and pass out pizza coupons at the nearby grocery store, namely the grocery store we went to most often.  And then, horror of horrors, he tried to touch me!  Not in a creepy way, just in a "Hey there little kid who normally likes giant characters" kind of way.  But I spazzed.  Mom said that for weeks after when we would get close to Food Giant, I would say, "No Caesar Man?"  And she would say, "No Caesar Man," and pray that she was right. 

Therefore, it should be obvious that I didn't like Santa.  But Momma had to have her Santa picture every year.  The results are hysterical.

That was my first Santa picture.  I look so pleased.  Look, they even tried to get me to hold a teddy bear to distract me.  Didn't work out.  Mind you, I was nearly a year old (my birthday isn't long after Christmas), so I knew that he was a creeper.

That's my mom trying to hold me down.  You can see her black hair if you look closely.  Notice how I tried to run away from Santa, yet she determinedly held me down.  I was nearly two and that was only a few months before the "No Caesar Man" incident.

Nearly three-years-old and I'm still not happy, though, not screaming.  The truly traumatic part came after this picture.  You see, at our church, Mr. Jim was the one who always dressed up every year as Santa (in fact, that's him in the picture).  He loved kids, he was the right size (tall but portly), and he had the costume.  So, we would have a Santa photo night at church.  That was the first year that I really understood, though, that Santa would come into my house.  So, for a few days after the photo, I would periodically panic about Santa coming into the house.  My mom PROMISED me he wouldn't come when I was awake, and he wouldn't bother me while I was asleep, so I never had to look at him.  She also promised that he would only come on Christmas Eve while I was asleep.  That was the year, though, that Mr. Jim started spending his Christmas Eve paying visits as Santa at the homes of various church members with children.  Most parents and children found this delightful--the children because they got a surprise from Santa, and the parents because the surprise was from a friend they could trust.  Mother said her heart dropped when he showed up on our doorstep.  I.  Flipped.  Out.  Santa had come while I was awake!  And it wasn't even bedtime yet!  Fortunately Mr. Jim had the good sense to drop the charade and took off his hat and beard to show me that it was just him. I calmed down appropriately as he told me that he was just one of Santa's helpers, and dressed up to pass out messages from Santa to all of the kids in Pinson.  He was just one man, after all, and couldn't be everywhere at once.  I calmed down, gave him a hug, and then clung to my mother after he left.  I think she had to lay down in my bed with me until I fell asleep that year.

Almost four here, and we finally got a smile.  I knew it was Mr. Jim, though I was sworn to secrecy, so I didn't spazz.  To my knowledge, that is the best Santa picture of me ever.  I can still remember that year being at preschool and not wanting my picture made.  At my preschool, every year they would take us into the small auditorium (my preschool was at a large church), and they fed us donuts and milk while we waited for our turn to get a picture with Santa.  After you got a picture with Santa, they gave you a candy cane for being such a good boy or girl (they really wanted us to be hyper, didn't they?).  I can remember mom and I discussing the fact that I didn't have to get my picture made with Santa, and that she wouldn't be sad if I didn't.  I can also remember waffling, because I wanted to be like the other kids and come back with a candy cane (even though I didn't like peppermint then).  I can remember getting in and out of line a half-dozen times.  I don't remember what I actually did in the end, though.

Oh childhood Christmas memories.  How traumatic.

"Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade." --do I really have to tell you?

So, Norco definitely has the greatest parades ever.  I mean, truly.  I know, I know, you're thinking, "but Norco only has like on road!"  Well, that's not entirely the truth.  We have two, and the parade goes up one and down the other.  So there.

But seriously, it was fantastic!  We had the parade staples like marching bands, floats, local festival queens sitting on convertibles, shriners in dune buggies, fire trucks, Santa Claus, dance schools, horses (though, ours had fleur-de-lis painted on their hooves), and so on.  BUT Norco had some other fantastic additions to the Christmas parade.  Such as...

A taekwondo school!  And...wait for it....

Darth Vader.  Yes, Darth Vader.  Apparently the Bast Alpha Garrison of the 501st Legion made an appearance at the Norco Christmas parade--because nothing says "holiday special" like Star Wars...

Ugh.  Now I have to block that movie out all over again.

Anyway, the 501st Legion (otherwise known as "Vader's Fist") is "The World's Definitive Imperial Costuming  Organization."  Epically.  Awesome.  I didn't get a shot of them, but there were also storm troopers and like a grand moff or something (whatever grand moff Tarkin was).  It was incredible.  According to their website, the Bast Alpha Garrison is committed to "Protecting Louisiana from Rebel Scum."  Does it get any better?

But, after seeing them walk down Apple Street, I thought, "The next best thing to happen at a parade besides ninja vs. pirate, would be taekwondo kids vs. imperial troops."  It should happen.  I'm making a petition for next year.

Besides the beaucoup beads, I caught a three black and gold cups, a bendable Christmas tree, a do-it-yourself edible snowman kit (a.k.a. a package of marshmallows), a rubber tomahawk, and an alien cow.

Jury's still out as to his name.  But look at him!  He's green.  And on Farmville, green cows are alien cows.  So that obviously means that this one is, too.

If you'd like to check out the websites for the Star Wars folks, here they are:
Bast Alpha Garrison
501st Legion