Here's a blog post by David Crowder about Christmas. It's pretty awesome.

Christmas Gets a Bad Wrap

Someday I will see you all again.

We did so much and went through so much. I was only there for a year, but I was welcomed and taken in as one of you, and we did so much, we did so much.

Remember when we got lost in the caves? And we followed Josh through the jungle all the way to that village? We played mafia on that trip, and there were a lot of people. We put up that fence and painted that room a terrible pink color and slept in the sticks. We laughed a lot. Near the end, everyone wanted to go home.

Remember farther back, when we all first met? I tried to remember everyone's names, everyone in the school. Forty isn't much for a school, but it's a lot of names. I felt weird, and we played Skip-Bo. Some of you invited me to church, some of you invited me to movies, some of you invited me to dinner. I'm not sure why I turned most of that down. That was pretty stupid of me.

Remember the trip to Samal? The bonka boats were amazing. We slept in stick huts, and I still didn't know anyone. Allie, remember skipping rocks? Michael, remember sitting under the stars and talking? Guys, remember jumping on our coconut catapult? That all made me feel at home.

Remember, Laskowskes, when we hacked our way to that waterfall? I almost fell off the side of the hill into the river and grabbed onto that tree and swung back up, like in a movie. And there were spider webs, and Doug was taller than all of us, so we made him go first. We ate lunch there, in the jungle. The hike was gueling, but the waterfall was amazing. There was a banana plantation and durian trees, and we talked about how the durians could fall down and kill someone. Those things were like giant, spiky boulders.

Remember our worship team? That was the best class ever, along with all the other classes (Class of Clovis forever!). We played so much music, and we thought we knew everything. It was as much learning to learn as it was to lead worship. Remember Filipe and the pegasuses, and how he had chocolate for breakfast? And how Mrs. Farlin's laptop started singing "New Way to be Human," even though it was sleeping? And I kept calling Mrs. Farlin "dude"? And how Clovis was right above the elephant, and that's the only thing we could remember about him? And Mr. James could throat-sing, and we had spirit week, and we tried to trade accents with Chris, and we defrosted the freezer and had a snowball fight in 80-degree-weather, and we ran around at night for that picture scavenger hunt? Remember the video contest, and how John kept a straight face for so long as the anchorman (before he cracked up)?

Remember the all-nighters, and Philip stayed up and made coffee for everyone and went crazy? We watched "Behind Enemy Lines" and some other movie, and half of us stayed in the computer lab all night.

Remember going to Nasuli? Some of you showed up later. I talked with Michael a lot, and I read his sister's story. I made up a song about a bug on the ceiling with my guitar because it was SO dull that day. I couldn't go swimming because I didn't have a swimsuit, and then I did and the springs were awesome and very, very cold. The food was amazing. And we drove out to the pineapple plantation and hardly had anything with pinapples in it. Nasuli was sad. Empty. A lot of stuff like that happened there before we ever got there for those few weeks. There was the old airstrip, and most of the missionaries' houses were empty. Michael told that joke about the camels--I can't remember it entirely--but it was so long, and so ridiculous, and made me laugh so hard.

Remember Paradise Island? We hiked in the pouring, pouring rain, and were all soaked. And we stopped in that hut to communicate with the rest of the group about meeting, and there was a guard. I took off my socks and twisted them so all the water dumped out. The guard thought that was really funny. Remember watching the rain come over the pool?

Remember, Daniel, playing that game at your family's house? And remember Game Maker, and that guy you animated with the funny... everything, and with the apples? We laughed so hard.

I remember at the end, for a few months, I just wanted to go home. I wouldn't do anything with anybody, and made excuses. That was a mistake. I felt so obnoxious, but I thought maybe if I detached myself, I wouldn't have to worry about saying goodbye. I didn't have to worry about it. I regret it. People just left for the summer, one by one, back to the United States. It emptied, like Nasuli. Only a few families were left. We said goodbyes, but they weren't enough. I was fine with going home because I had friends there, and I had detached from the Phlippines. Other people had a hard time going somewhere they had only been one out of every three or four years. We promised to keep in touch, and we did for a while, but that wasn't enough.

It's hard when I remember all of that. I wish I could bring it back and do it all again. I wish we could all meet again and get lost in the jungle or Guisano mall. I don't think that'll happen though. That makes me sad. It makes me ache. But I know that, if we never meet in this life, we'll meet afterwards. I think heaven will have enough jungles to get lost in.

This one is interesting--

I've just started my freshman year of college. I've expected something of a hard (but not bad) transition, and I got a hard (but not bad) transition. I've expected I'll need to look for a job, and I need to look for a job. I've expected to have few people to talk with at first, and that's what I got.

A few days ago, I hit "culture shock" and could barely function... I was exhausted, sick of schoolwork already, wasn't sure whether I was done with all my homework, still had to find a job, missing people, and so on. I eventually got over it that same day. But I kept asking, "How am I going to pay for this? How am I going to get a job? How am I supposed to know about any of this?"

And, minus the culture shock, those sort of things keeps building until I feel like I'm going to explode. There's no way I can do any of this; I have no guarantee God will take care of me, I have no guarantee I'll be paid for.

I didn't shave for about a week, which makes it nearly impossible to use an electric razor. I wished I had just a normal disposable razor so I could get rid of the half-beard, and then use the electric razor to keep me from being fuzzy. I thought I might do this at home, but we're out of them there too. So basically... I'm stuck forever with this half-beard until I can find a normal razor. Or a knife or something.

A few days later, I get home. I've forgotten about this whole 'beard predicament' thing (kind of ridiculous anyway, right?). I'm still worrying about whether or not God will give me a job, whether God will provide for payment... so on... and walk in. There, on the table, sits a "birthday package" from Gillette, for me, with a top-of-the-line disposable razor. I laughed out loud.

God says, "I hear you, even with the small things. I hear you with the big things, the money things too. You'll be alright."