Empty Stockings
To avoid the need for a spoiler alert, let’s just say that Daddy was one of the best helpers Santa ever had.
For instance, he loved shopping. But maybe that’s not quite right. Maybe what Daddy truly loved was the giving and the anticipation of Christmas Day. One year he pulled me aside to show me some jewelry he had purchased for Mama. I can’t recall much about the piece except that I thought it was pretty. I’ve always been drawn to sparkle.
But this part of the memory is clear and certain: the excitement I felt at being included in a Christmas secret. In a few whispered moments, Daddy and I became yuletide conspirators. As the days passed, I looked forward to Mama’s opening her gift almost as much as opening my own.
And then there were the stockings.
I helped Daddy with this mission only a couple of times, but I still have the procedure down cold. Orange in the toe. Unshelled nuts—almonds, walnuts, and pecans—filling in the gaps. A banana in the top. Candy, of course. I don’t remember toys being part of the line-up, but I do know there was never a toothbrush or toothpaste included. People who put such things in stockings are likely the same folks who give kids apples and raisins for Halloween.
After Mr. Pettit joined the Air Force, we spent only a handful of Christmases with our parents. We lived too far away to travel by car for a short visit and the cost of airline tickets was prohibitive. I didn’t know that Christmas 1985 would be the last I’d spend with Daddy. (He passed away in September 1988.)
Mr. Pettit and I carried on the Stan Finch stocking tradition, minus the mixed nuts. (I never ate them as a child, so I assumed our sons wouldn’t either.) When we gained daughters-in-law and grandchildren, we added their stockings to our mantel. Inexplicably, Santa always seemed to know when they would be visiting and would fill their stockings accordingly.
Becoming a mother-in-law and grandmother meant that I had to take a refresher course in sharing. One son’s in-laws live two states away from us and the other’s live on another continent, so it’s an all-or-nothing situation for Mr. Pettit and me at Christmas.
Empty stockings.
Yes, we still place all nine stockings above the fireplace in our family room. (Our stockings were crowded out two grandchildren ago, so they hang in the game room. Fortunately, Santa still finds them.)
It’s hard to look at that row of stockings sometimes. I long to hold my sweet circle and hear their laughter. I want to make new memories.
Then I think about the empty places in my life that cannot be filled, voids left by the passing of Daddy, then Mama, and now my sister, Zita. I’ll think I’m handling Christmas well, then tears arrive without warning or provocation. I cried the other day as I read the story behind Handel’s “Messiah.”
But God is never blindsided. He knew this would be a tough season for me, so He provided a way to keep my focus where it should be. On Him.
The women’s Bible study group I attend wrapped its fall session with an agreement: we would emulate the early Christians and stop at 9 a.m., noon, and 3 p.m. daily to pray the Lord’s Prayer. This was intended to unify our group even when we were apart.
When my phone’s alarm rings, I stop and pray, no matter where I am. Three times a day. Every day.
When I find my mind wandering to my to-do list or the random debris of the day, I start over. I find myself leaning into different parts of the prayer, depending on what’s swirling around me. “Thy will be done.” “…as we forgive those who trespass against us.” “Deliver us from evil.”
At a time when it’s easy for me to turn all my attention inward, I can almost feel Jesus’s gentle nudge to look upward. Toward the Father.
My heart can scarcely contain my gratitude as I consider what those empty stockings truly represent: an ever-expanding circle of blessings, of unmerited favor from Almighty God.
Then I trace the blessings further back, back to my parents and sister. They loved me. I loved them. They are together now, rejoicing in a Christmas celebration that is beyond the limits of my mortal understanding. And, one day, I will join them.
“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!” Luke 2:14 (NKJV)
“The stockings were hung by the chimney with care…” Clement Clarke Moore
