CHRISTMASTIME IS HERE

The heavy rain of the last few days has ceased and now only a drizzle of rain falls from the sky. The clouds lay low. Colors are muted – mostly shades of brown. There is no sound – no birds twittering, no squirrels scuttering. It is a dreary, dismal day. Before leaving the house this morning, Jordan was watching “A Charlie Brown Christmas”. Vince Guaraldi’s “Christmastime is Here”, in it’s sorrowful minor key, plays in my mind. It seems to be the appropriate background music for the day. Like Charlie Brown, I have had the Christmas blues.

As I look across the meadow, the grasses are brown and bent over from the dampness. But, as I draw closer I notice that there, at the base of the dead stems is green – fresh, new, living green. The more I look, the more I see. There is new life. There is hope.

I enter the dark redwood grove. There are no shafts of sun cutting through the trees. Yet beneath the redwoods the Boston ferns have turned from green to buttermint yellow. Several trees have retained their yellow leaves. In this dark forest they have brought some light.

Then I hear in my mind the words that Linus shares, “’Fear not, for I bring you good tidings of great joy. For unto you is born this day a Savior, Christ the Lord. Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.’ And that is what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

The world had been dreary and dismal – without hope and light. The angels cut into that darkness with great light and announced the birth of Jesus. The shepherds went to see this wonder, to take a close look. Although just a baby, He brought hope and light. And that is what Christmas is all about.

PUDDLES

On a day after a heavy rain it is too muddy to take the Meadow Trail. By the next day I decided that enough time has gone by for the rain to seep into the soil and I return to my regular route. Watching my feet so as to avoid any lingering muddy patches I am caught off guard for there at my feet is the sky! One large puddle that stretches the width of the path is so still and so clear that it reflects the sky and the trees above it. I gingerly tiptoe around it, not wanting to cause any ripples that would spoil this natural mirror.

Days go by, the puddle is still there, although a bit smaller. Leaves and dirt have fallen on its surface. Although there is still a reflection there are now things floating on the puddle that distracts from the perfect reflection.

Several days later the temperature drops. The puddle freezes over, trapping the tree droppings in its ice.

The puddle gets smaller with each passing day leaving a growing gooey, muddy border. The only thought while passing is to avoid the mess.

Not too far from the Meadow Trail a bridge crosses over the San Lorenzo River. As I stop and look over the bridge once again I see the sky. The water reflects yellow leaves, bare brown branches, bright blue sky and then I’m struck by a bright light. The sun had risen above the trees and the river bounced the light right back.

The difference between the the puddle and the river become clear to me. The puddle was fed once by the rain from above. It basked in the light enjoying a time of reflection. Yet as time passes those that encountered the puddle notice that the glow has faded, has become murky, frozen, muddy. Right below the bridge a small creek feeds into the river, constantly bringing new life. The water, though it is still enough to reflect, it is always moving forward.

God says through the prophet Jeremiah, “My people have committed two sins; They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water.”

Jesus said that He is the Living Water. May we always be fed by Him and reflect Him. May we not become a muddy puddle.

HOARFROST

It’s December and the sun stays low in the sky. Mornings are crisp. As I walk I see my breath. Then suddenly my breath is taken away as I see a field of grass covered with hoarfrost. Such beauty. Such starkness. Tall stalks that had turned brown in the fall seem to stand more upright as they are covered with frost. They glisten even without the sun shining upon them.

Not far away, under the redwoods there is no frost. There is shelter. There is peace. There is serenity. Shafts of light cut through the almighty redwoods. A deer carefully tiptoes through the ferns.

One could desire to always live in the shelter of The Almighty – to always experience peace and tranquility. Yet, for some, that is not where they are called to live. Some are called to live in the meadow, exposed to the elements. It would be tempting to cry out “It’s not fair! I want to be protected. Life is too hard.” Yet some accept their lot in life, never complaining, and when the cold wind blows they stand strong and beautiful like stalks covered with hoarfrost.

I’m reminded of a friend named Gladys. Gladys had a hard life. She was married young to an abusive husband. She outlived eight of her ten children – several died in childhood, her only daughter died at three. But Gladys didn’t complain. Although tough on the outside, not putting up with whiners, she was deeply compassionate for the helpless, especially for suffering children. God clothed her with a beauty that withstood the storms of life and even when the sun wasn’t shining she glistened like stalks covered with hoarfrost.