Christmas 1988 - Death and Life

Christmas 1988

Dear Family and Friends:

Here by my window, in our house by the woods, the night begins to come, as all nights must come. The sun lies low upon the horizon. Languorously, she stretches out upon her golden couch of violet hues. Another day drifts gently towards its conclusion.

Yet not all conclusions are as gentle as this day's end.

This is the year that my father died. I cannot begin to express the depths of loneliness this brings. I wish I could tell him this.

I wish he could know. Somehow I do not think that he valued himself enough to know what a gaping hole he had filled in our lives. I am afraid that he did not know how much he would he missed.

All of this shouldn't have surprised me so, for in each life is contained the seed of death, just as in Christmas is the Cross contained with all of its gory suffering and death. Again, within Good Friday is contained the glorious flower of Easter; the knowledge that the sun will rise again. And so comes the knowing that in dying we cross beyond the "Shadow-Lands".

"'There was a real accident' said Aslan softly. ‘Your father and mother and all of you are – as you used to call it, in the Shadow-Lands – dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.’

... And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. ... now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.” (C.S. Lewis: The Last Battle)

And we know that if we die in Him we shall live again. This is the promise of Christmas: God came to dwell among men, to share in our suffering. Out of His great love, He came so that He could know us to our very core and die as a direct result of our cursed condition. And then, in a burst of glory, He would overcome that curse and once again dwell among men. Only this time it would be from within us - if only we should ask.

Still, our lives do continue to go along in all of their complexities. Sometimes they are simple; sometimes they seem hopelessly entangled.

Justin: who can fathom his mind? He has so much to offer but has so many stumbling blocks. He is doing much better this year largely due to a year's growth and to one very stubborn, very dedicated 2nd grade teacher.

Galen has lived up to his name (of one who heals) merely by his babyish unfolding and becoming. He is a little packet of love with two pattering feet seeking new mischief each day's moment.

Heidi is still determined to be a doctor. That looks completely impossible. But I don't know - that stubborn set to her jaw is back. She has overcome a lot this year. With herself and the Lord as a team, who knows?

who knows ...

I thought my Dad's health was possible. But God in His infinite wisdom saw differently. It is hard to argue with omniscience. I know that now my Dad is safe; now he hurts no more. At last he has all the love he needs; and warmth and peace, and blessing.

It is just that I miss him and wish he knew.

I miss my father.

I miss the daughter that used to be.

And yet… in each life there are a thousand such twilights; a thousand dark nights.

But we also know that the morning comes again.

And once more the sun will shine.

But for now the sun lies low upon the horizon. Gold and violet; orange and rose swirl in dance around her. Softly she beckons the oncoming night so that she can give the earth its well needed rest.

And so in the warmth of her fading light, we bid you the joy and peace of this Christmas season, and all the year to come.

With love,

Patty, Michael, Heidi, Justin, and Galen Christopher

Earlier Conversations

Oh God. I hope that You are not an impersonal force.

- I'm not... -

You say, and You speak with such gentleness.

You are so patient. I feel You laugh... and You are soothing. I was thinking how I "hear" You in this wonderful wind out here. Then I started to think of Your largeness, and became afraid...

I cannot believe how wildly the oaks sway!

-See the tensile strength I have built into them? -

At first I thought, well, why write it down? It just seemed conversational, and would it even be of any interest later? Oh! You mean more than the trees, don't You?

You mean us. Me, my beleaguered friend, my family: whoever I'm fussed about.

-You will bend but you will not break.
The storms of life will come
for they must,
but you will not break.
I have said it. -

I don't want to make "stuff" up.

-You won't. -

but You sound so soft. How can it be louder?

-Live close to Me.-

please help me. I've been so distracted lately.

... I hear You in the wind!

It's like being taken and swirled around and enveloped by You!

-Just a little...-

This wind. It takes me back. Something about my childhood. The Heights. Virginia - but it is different from the soughing of the pine trees.

I try to go back. I remember loving the winter wind and somehow feeling held by it. But the thought of it without You seems too empty and pointless to bother.

-I was with you then. -

But I didn't know You, then.

-Yes, you did. In your little child's way. -

And I got a flash of myself as a blonde-haired toddler, bending over something, curious.

-I took great delight in you. -

Because of knowing what You had made?

-And what you would become. -

I'm so afraid of making things up.

-It comes easier because you are more relaxed.
Loosen up. I'll take care of you. -

It's funny. These are more of conversations.

-To each is given differently. -

And as I think back, I remember not wanting to go inside because the sound of the wind that day, filled me and enveloped me. At two and a half - maybe almost three, I could not have said what it was I felt, let alone why... but now I suddenly realize that it was You there, in the wind, that held me. I did not know Your name, then, and I don't think I could have even conceived of You with my mind -- but I knew Your touch. Even then I remember feeling like it was someone and that there was more love in that wind than I had ever known; and I felt more at home there than anywhere I had ever been. Even though I was so young that I remember little from that time, I can still feel how my heart felt like it was being torn out when my mother decided we had to go inside. I vaguely recall that she seemed puzzled by my reaction.

As I left the back porch to step over the thresh-hold, I knew a moment's panic that: oh - it would never be there again, not in that way. Then I felt the sides of my head being "held" and I suddenly knew that it would be.