I was serving on the car-park in Church last Sunday. On a normal Sunday we can have several hundred cars coming in, and on this particular Sunday we also had a lot of snow. Snow and cars with summer-tires is never a winner so we had a fair bit to do.
Not long ago I was down in London and stayed with a friend. I had a something like a “three-day-beard” when I arrived and I didn’t bother to shave for the rest of that week. -nor did I when I came home. So by now I have cultivated quite a big beard.
White snow was all around and I was wrapped up well in a big winter-coat, thick scarf, gloves, etc. From under my beanie a flush of blonde hair was hanging down to my shoulders and in my face I had a big beard.
After the service my friend Mike Harvie and his wife came walking past on the way to their car. On his arm he was carrying his little baby-girl. Mike and I exchanged a couple of words and he walked on to the car. But the little girl kept staring at me. She stretched out her hand and pointed in my direction and said “dhantehh, dantahh.” We didn’t really understand what she meant and when Mike placed her in the baby-seat she just kept going. “Dantahh, Dantahh!” “Santa, Santa!” Mike exclaimed. She’s calling you “Santa!”
It takes me back some years when they suggested I’d play Santa in the sports-shop I worked in, in Norway. The shop manager thought I’d just scare the kids, but he should see me now! Ha!