Gaston is a French-Canadian reindeer who sometimes helps Santa deliver toys on Christmas Eve, so his words should be read in an appropriate accent français.
Gaston: Bonjour, Bill! Bonjour, boys and girls! Joyeux Noel! Joyeux Noel!
Bill: Well, Merry Christmas, Gaston! You seem very happy tonight!
Gaston: I am, because everything is good tonight after a rough couple of weeks.
Bill: You did? Well, what was going on?
Gaston: Well, first of all, we were afraid that Santa was going to rid of all of us.
Bill: You thought Santa was going to get rid of all the reindeer? Why did you think that?
Gaston: Well, you remember Rudolf. . .
Bill: The Red-nosed Reindeer?
Gaston: Oui. Well, he overheard Santa say to Mrs. Claus, “I am so upset! I just don’t know what I’m going to do with the terrible reindeer.” So he went and told the rest of us that Santa thought we were all terrible and that he was going to get rid of us.
Bill: So what happened?
Gaston: Well it turns out that Rudolf didn’t understand what he heard. You see, Santa was upset about the terrible rain storms in Florida, so what he really said to Mrs. Claus was, “I don’t know what I’m going to do about the terrible rain, dear!”
Bill: Well, I’ll bet that was a relief. What was the other problem?
Gaston: Well, Santa wasn’t able to get his flu shot, and we were terribly afraid that Santa wouldn’t be able to make it all around the world.
Bill: I can imagine how worried you were. It would be terrible if Santa had gotten the flu or even maybe the swine flu. . . .
Gaston: Oh, no, no! Santa never gets sick, so he’d never get the swine flu or even the regular flu.
Bill: Well, then, why does he need a flu shot?
Gaston: Santa always gets an annual chimney flue shot, so he won’t get stuck in the chimneys!
Bill: Well, Gaston, I think you’d better say goodnight and Merry Christmas to the boys and girls.
Gaston: But wait, I almost forgot. You know it’s already Christmas in Madagascar, and while I was there I got some pictures of some of the boys and girls at the church in Fort Dauphin, so when I go back into the bag I’ll hand them up to you so you can show them to the boys and girls . . . .
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Bill: That’s wonderful, Gaston. Thank you. And safe travels for the rest of the night. And Merry Christmas!
Gaston: Merry Christmas, boys and girls, Joyeux Noel!
Last summer Mrs. Roberts and I went to a big island far away called Madagascar. Have any of you heard of Madagascar? [various responses]
We went there to make friends with boys and girls like you who live there. And here are some pictures of the boys and girls we met while we were there:
In Madagascar Santa is called by a different name. In Madagascar he’s called Dadabe Noely. Let’s see if you can say it. Let’s start with Dadabe. Can you say Dadabe? That word means “Grandfather.” Now let’s say “Noely.” Noely means Christmas. So “Dadabe Noely” means “Grandfather Christmas.”
Most of the children who live in Madagascar are very poor. In fact, most of them live in houses without any electricity! So that means that Santa, or Dadabe Noely, can’t bring the boys and girls any toys that need electricity! So Dadabe Noely usually brings them clothing or candy.
Do any of you know what this plant is called? Do you see any plants that look like this in the church? That’s because in America this is this is one of the plants that we see at Christmas.
When Mrs. Roberts and I were in Madagascar, we were told that the Poinsettia is Madagascar’s national plant! And it even grows like a tree there. There are two reasons it’s called the national plant. First, because the colors of Madagascar’s flag are red, green, and white, and poinsettias are also green, red, and white. And second, because if you fold the leaf of a poinsettia in half, it makes the shape of the island of Madagascar.
So after the service, if you go to my office, Mrs. Roberts will give you your very own small poinsettia plant, to help you remember not only Christmas, but the boys and girls like you who live in Madagascar.
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I ordered the poinsettias to give out to the children back in November. Then, just a few days before Christmas Eve, I discovered that the national flower is the Royal Poinciana, notwithstanding what several Malagasy guides told us. Fortunately, the similarities of the plants in color and shape allowed me to proceed with the children’s sermon; however, I was careful to qualify my talk with the words “we were told.”
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