Christmas 2020
Dear Family and Friends
Sitting out here, by the edge of the woods, the grayness of the day nips at the edges as if trying to get in. It’s funny, because in some ways this year has seemed rather gray. The bright colors of celebration have been muted - at least to an extent. Our ability to move around freely has been somewhat curtailed. Yet I can still see the beauty of this woods behind our house. The grayness cannot obscure it.
As I write here behind our house, the beauty of this gift from the Lord shines through the mists. I see the contrasts of light and shade, colored and neutral, limbs raised straight to the sky, or crooked and meandering, or just plain leaning at a crazy angle. Not two trees out here are the same. And while there may be some competition for resources like light, for the most part, they have found a way to cooperate, and if need be, work around each other.
I pray that somehow, we would do the same.
The growth of some trees has been suppressed for a time. While that may seem sad to us, they fill their place. And no one decided they weren’t worth keeping. Indeed, they are critical to the health of the forest. They help serve as a windbreak to partially protect the larger trees during gale force winds. Small trees are far less prone to topple over and so they can absorb some of the battering. And when the season is too wet such as this past year in Northern Virginia, they help suck up some of the extra ground water that can over saturate the forest floor and cause big, healthy trees to crash to the ground and die long before their time. The small trees are also wonderful at preventing erosion, particularly on our sloping hillside.
And when the day has come for one of our stalwart giants to slowly over time make its way back into the earth below, the smaller trees rise up to take its place.
We, also, each have our place. Sometimes we might feel like nothing more than a sapling in a woods full of radiant beauty. And that probably seemed fine to us when we were children. But if we still feel like a sapling well into an older age, we may begin to panic. Chances are, that sapling has actually grown into a tree that is probably larger than we realize. As that tree remains healthy, it may be called on to take a larger space. But even if not, the place it holds is of great value to the surrounding forest.
Think of Mary. We do. Especially at this time of year. She’s someone hard to forget. We think of her as a great hero of faith. So, what was it Mary did? She said, yes. One very big small yes. That’s it. Granted that yes could have cost her, her life. It could’ve gotten her stoned to death. Likely, she would have lost the fiancée that she loved. At the very least, she would become the object of scorn and ridicule among the villagers. But in the end, that’s pretty much the sum total of what she did. Say yes to one very big, improbable, and incredible God. For the most part after that, it seems like the rest of her life was largely lived out doing the tasks that mothers do. I’m not sure scripture describes much more than that. Yet we understand that she had a very important place to fill. I guess it depends on what the Lord has called us to do and to be.
Most of us will probably never be called on to say “yes” to such a single, completely life altering question. Instead, we more likely to be called on for many smaller “yeses.” The trick there is to stay close enough to the Lord to hear His questions. Then we need to find the fortitude and self-denial to say yes to Him, instead of to ourselves. Sacrifice does not come easy for most of us. But be reassured. Most of what we are called to do is to live our lives the best we can. Each life has a place it was created to fill.
I have gotten to watch first-hand what happens to the woods when the saplings do not survive. For decades, the deer browsed freely and destroyed the understory, eating not only the natural ground cover, but the seedlings and young saplings. As the forest has aged, the old trees have begun to die off. And there is little to take their place. Perhaps in their own way, the smaller trees are called to serve the larger ones. In a sense they are called to love. Certainly, their roots all intertwine below the surface supporting one another.
I think sometimes the Lord uses motifs throughout His creation. Jesus said, “I give you a new command. Love one another as I have loved you.” He also said, “By this all men will know that you’re my disciples - that you love one another.” I can hardly think of anything that on the surface sounds so very small, like those saplings. And really, that was the sum total of what Jesus told us to do. Love one another. Well, mercy. THAT’s not even doing anything! It’s far too little. Isn’t it?
But like Mary’s “yes”, it is the biggest little thing we can ever do. And probably the hardest. If you think that isn’t true -- look across the political divide. One side sees the other as lunatics steeped in fantasy and believing lies, and regards them with fear and loathing. The other side has labeled the first side as evil, and so therefore feels justified in hating them.
Neither of those examples is the love that Jesus spoke about. To decide that we dislike someone for whatever reason, whether we consider them a lunatic or malignant (and therefore write them off) is to refuse to say “yes” to the Lord’s simple request.
Simple. But costing not less than everything.
This is a very difficult thing to do, this walking in love. I wonder how many of us are ever able to truly get to that place. The place where we put others first, instead of making a mad grab for ourselves, considering them before our wants. The place where we truly listen and try to understand and avoid judging them. If we’re honest with ourselves, this is very hard to do. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone fully live into that. But it’s something I want to do. I want to try. Oh, I’m sure people feel like yes, they love in the way in Jesus has said to. Only it seems they often have those people they dislike. Just a bit. And feel justified in doing so.
And in despair I bowed my head
There is no peace on earth I said
For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men
Then rang the bells more loud and deep
God is not dead, nor does He sleep
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men
I realize this isn’t the normal sort of Christmas letter, even from us. But this year has not been normal in so many ways. Yet, I believe the Light will cut through all of that if we allow Him to. He is right here. So close to each of us. He came to be one of us. He does not ask anything from us that He didn’t do for us already. He loves you, and He will not leave your side. He promised, “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.” And He says that to people on both sides of the great divide. We need to learn to look at each other with His eyes of kindness, and remember that we are not equipped to be the judgers of hearts. There is only One of those. But He did not come with great coercion to force us to do His will. Instead, He came humbly as a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
May this Christmas find you wrapped in the love of the One Who loves you beyond anything you can imagine, just as you are. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to change yourself. He stoops down on one knee and opens His arms wide to take you in as a Father would for His beloved child.
May His love bathe your heart in a peace that never ends.
Merry Christmas!
With love – Patty and Michael Kashtock