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.

THE ROAD MOST TRAVELED

Much has been made about “The Road Less Traveled” – the idea of venturing off the path of the norm and discovering truths about life. However, over the last several months I’ve come to think about “the road most traveled”. For me, it’s the course I take several time per week in Henry Cowell State Park. I’m pretty regulated in my morning walks. Wanting to make sure that I get home in time to do my job, I allow myself a half hour of walking. Fifteen minutes into the park, then turn around and walk the 15 minutes back to my van. I generally take the same route, not venturing on to new paths. Some may find this too structured and way too boring to do day after day. However, I’ve discovered that as I have walked the same path I have had new experiences almost every day. Because you see, it’s a living path.

From the beginning I was struck by the early morning sunlight filtering through the leaves that create a canopy over the bridge as I enter the park. I enjoyed the vista of meadow, the serenity of the redwood grove. But the more I walked the more I began to notice the nuances along the way. Soon I became aware of the bushes where I could count on seeing quail. I had walked by those bushes numerous times and had never noticed. Now I make an effort to cross to the other side of the road so as not to disturb the skittish birds. I learned where to look if I hoped to see deer. I now know where I can almost always see blue jays. I recognize different sounds – I know the difference between the sound of a squirrel skittering in the bushes and a bird scratching for seed. I know where the ducks like to play in the spring and I know their flight pattern in the fall. I’m aware of possible dangerous places – places that flood after a rain, places where coyotes travel.

The seasons bring change to the same path. Bare trees in the winter break out in brilliant yellow-green in the spring. The leaves grow and darken in the summer, providing shade. Then when the rest of the world is turning brown in the fall they burst with yellow light as they put on their autumn dress. It’s the same path, but always different.

The weather brings change to the same path. Dew make grass gleam in the morning sun, so much so that it causes one to squint. Fog acts like a theatrical scrim curtain, cutting off the view of the background so that I find myself seeing a specific tree or hill that I had never noticed before. A breeze in the summer grass causes a rippling effect across the meadow. Rain causes grass and branches to bow down. It’s the same path, but always different.

Time brings change to the path. Most days I am at Henry Cowell at the same time. I see familiar faces along the way. I see the animals where I usually see them. But if I go later in the day, it seems that everything has changed. Unfamiliar people pass me. The deer don’t show up. I see a snake lying on the road enjoying the warm sunshine. It’s the same path, but always different.

Walking partners bring change to the path. I generally walk by myself but occasionally I’m joined by a friend or family member. We get engrossed in conversation and I don’t see much of the landscape. But then something catches their eye – a bird, a flower, a mushroom and I see something that I had never noticed before. It’s the same path, but always different.

All this caused me to think about God’s Word, how it, too, is living. When I seldom read it, it is like a chore or exercise. I just think about getting through the passage, putting my time in, and closing the book. But when I read it regularly I discover the nuances that God’s living Word has for me. I know where to look to find God’s peace. I know the passages that give me wisdom for my marriage, how to raise my kids, how to get along with those around me. The things that were once hidden are now very familiar. Yet no matter how familiar, they are new every morning because like nature, God’s Word is living. Although His Word does not change, what I see changes – sometimes due to life’s circumstances, sometimes due to new understanding, sometimes because the enlightenment a partner on the path brings. It’s the same path, but always different.

There is something to be said about the road most traveled.

IT RAINED TODAY AND I WENT WALKING

It rained today and I went walking. This comes as a surprise to me when I think that less than a year ago I would use any excuse to avoid exercising. I don’t have time. There are other things that are more important. What if I trip and fall (a legitimate concern of one who was known to trip often in high school – although that was a long time ago)? I don’t have the right clothes. What if I encounter a predator? It’s too cold. What if I got lost (a concern again that had some merit)? There were plenty of excuses. But that’s what they were – just excuses.

I knew exercising would be good for me but it wasn’t part of my routine, my life style. But I decided to make a stab at it. I decided that maybe I could squeeze in one or two walks per week, but just for a half hour each time, because I was a busy person. After dropping my kids off at school, I dutifully parked my car near the entrance of Henry Cowell State Park. I would walk 15 minutes into the state park and walk 15 minutes out. I was armed with my cell phone – just in case I tripped, got lost, or encountered the feared predator. I didn’t have any special walking clothes or shoes, like I was sure everyone else would have, but it was early, maybe no one would see me. Hopefully, no one would see me.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy a good hike. In fact, it is one of my favorite things to do with my husband, our family or some friends. But that was different – that’s an outing. This was exercise. This was by my self.

But I did it – sometimes once a week, sometimes twice. I stuck to the main road – straight in, straight out. No chance of getting lost. I did encounter others – runners with a great variety in their clothing style, other walkers with no particular set style – some alone, some with friends, some pushing strollers – all with a smile and many with a friendly greeting. This wasn’t so bad, I guess.

After several weeks I noticed that my 15 minutes in and 15 minutes out was taking me farther. I had to explore new paths, try new ways. I ventured on to the trails.

I then took the challenge of walking for a fund raiser. I had a couple of months to prepare for the 6k Wharf to Wharf. I added an extra day to my walking routine and occasionally went on longer walks with my husband. With his encouragement I bought better walking shoes.

By the time July rolled around I felt ready for the 6k walk. To my surprise I found that I really enjoyed the event but even more, I found I really enjoyed the walk.

This fall I’ve been walking four to five days a week, often putting 10 miles per week on my tennis shoes. I’ve gone farther, taken new trails, enjoyed new sights and have even jogged once or twice when I was sure no one would see me.

I’ve been dreading the rain because I thought it would put an end to the activity that I now enjoy so much. But today it rained and I went walking. I wore a hat to keep the rain off my glasses. As I gingerly tiptoed around puddles on the path I felt water oozing into my tennis shoes, I realized that it may be time to consider some hiking boots.

This journey of discovery caused me to think about people who know that reading the Bible or going to church would be “good for them” but it’s not in their routine, it’s not their lifestyle. There are fears – fears of not having the right clothes, of not doing things the right way, that someone may see them, that there may be predators – some legitimate fears, some just excuses.

But just like in my walking, the more you do it the easier it becomes. You start out easy and build up and soon it becomes part of your routine. You find you can go a little farther, a little deeper. You find you are among others that aren’t so very unlike you, and surprisingly, they even like you and welcome you to their path. There are events that can challenge you and stretch you. Sometimes things get messy or difficult but then there are people and tools to get you through. Just as a hat and boots may be needed for the rainy days, a concordance or commentary may be needed for a period of time.

Then there comes that day when you realize that this is no longer a dreaded exercise but a new life, a new life style, one that you wouldn’t give up – even if it rained.

OH DEER!

As I walked into Henry Cowell State Park this morning an unusual movement caught my eye. It was more than the bounce of a branch that is caused by a squirrel leaping from one tree to another. It was a violent stirring of bush branches while everything else around was still, as it usually is on the meadow early in the morning. It caused me to stop, to wonder, to hope – could it be a deer?

I love deer. I’ve loved deer ever since I was four years old and would see them leaping across the lawns as I looked out from my bedroom window. They are beautiful, graceful, elegant animals. My love for deer has been squelched a bit as they have discovered my rose bushes and strawberry plants and have made them part of their culinary delight. But still, to see deer, even in my garden, brings me great delight. I often judge the joy of my walks by what animals I see. Sometimes it’s a “nine quail and a bunny day”. Earlier this week it was a “17 duck day”. One time it was even a “coyote day” as I encountered one on a shadowed path. But no matter what other animal I see, or how many I see, it still doesn’t thrill me like seeing deer.

So imagine my joy when out from the bushes walked a beautiful buck! I stopped and watched until I could no longer see him. I walked on with a sense of satisfaction – it was a “deer day”.

As I thought about the event I thought about how movement draws our attention away from the ordinary. I thought about the movement of God’s Holy Spirit and how He stirs up the common every day scene and causes us to stop, to wonder, to hope. And the joy that comes when we discover “that was God”! That is the best, a “God day”!

About fifteen minutes later I was walking down the path on the other side of the meadow when I stopped suddenly for there in my path was the same buck. He, too, stopped. He considered me there in “his path” and decided to step into the bushes along the side. But before he totally disappeared he stopped, turned his head and took one more long look at me. It was a special moment. How would I categorize this walk? A “one buck, two times, day”? A “two times one buck day”? I then thought of how God loves to delight His children and I realized it was a “doubly deer (dear) God day”.

GIANT SNOWFLAKES

The sky was clear. The air was crisp. It was a beautiful fall morning at Henry Cowell State Park. As I walked across the bridge the meadow came into sight and I was struck by a miracle! All across the expanse were what appeared to be giant snowflakes, delicately clinging to stalks of grass. Each one was at least 18 inches across. They were beautiful! And there were hundreds of them.

Now it was chilly (42 degrees, I had noted, as I left home) but not cold enough for snow. The “snowflakes” were actually huge spider webs, intricately woven, with pearls of dew strung on each line, shining in the sun. The sight was amazing!

I have never been afraid of spiders but neither am I a great fan of spiders. I am quick to knock them down with a broom, scoop them up in a tissue, and flush them down the toilet. But today I saw them through different eyes. Each spider in the meadow had carefully endeavored to do what it was created to do. It appeared that the Son looked down and with His radiance he gave a nod of approval and the result was a sight to behold! Each spider sat humbly in the middle of its web and basked in the joy of its creator. The creature that I usually would despise and dispose of was now a thing of beauty.

It struck me that as we do what we are created to do we too can bask in the favor of God. And what is it that He created us to do? It is answered in Micah 6:8 –

He has shown all you people what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

As we do so we too may strike someone as a miracle and a thing of beauty. But more importantly, we will know the Lord’s pleasure shining down upon us.