The Empty, Little Stocking

by Marianne Coyne

One cold, Christmas Eve, in a town way up north, in a little house, on a little mantle, over a little fireplace in a little room, hung an empty, little stocking. Christmas Eve was his favorite time of year, when he anxiously awaited Christmas day; imagining all the delightful things he would be filled with. But year after year on Christmas day the little stocking was still empty.

He had heard about other stockings, and the wonderful things which filled them up to their hearts content. Things like apples and petit fours; oranges and dolls; trucks and toy airplanes; candy canes and harmonicas; playing cards with delicate pictures on them; horns to blow; hand-knitted stockings, scarves, and mittens; and sometimes, yes, sometimes even a puppy beaming over the stocking's brim! The little stocking puffed out just thinking about it all. He wished he could be filled with those things. "Oh my!" he exclaimed to himself. "I want things, too. I want to be filled until I can't be filled anymore. I want to be filled to my heart's content with things, things, and more things. I want to be stuffed with all that stuff," he chuckled to himself. Then with a deep, long sigh he wondered what Christmas day would really bring. Would he finally be filled, or would he remain an empty, little stocking forever?

Through the window he could see the snow gently coming down, and he shivered his little red toe closer to the fire for what remaining warmth was left from the dying embers. The last glow of firelight shimmered on the small crèche in the corner of the room, and the empty, little stocking caught a glimpse of the Christ child in the manger. He wondered how the Christ child could be happy without the stuff and the things he himself wanted to be filled with. The empty, little stocking began to pray. "Dear God," he said, "I'm just a little stocking, I know, but surely you have something for me. Please fill me up with all the wonderful things you have. Fill me to my heart's content."

Hour after hour passed away. The little clock on the little mantle chimed half past eleven. Christmas day was almost here; and the empty, little stocking, tired from his anticipation, began to nod. But before sleep could completely take the little stocking, he swayed. Something like a breeze startled him alert. It brushed by him again, not like a breeze at all; more like a breath. Yes, a deep, long breath, filling him up with the most wonderful sensation. "Oh," thought the empty little stocking, "God is answering my prayer. He's filling me up with such wonderful things!" It was true. God had heard his prayer, and He was filling the little stocking with such glorious things. He filled him with love; he filled him with faith; he filled him with kindness and mercy, hope and charity; he filled him with joy, peace, and truth ~ and love. Did I mention love? God filled the empty, little stocking with so much love that he bulged twice his size.

It was still snowing outside, but the little stocking didn't feel chilled. The Breath even breathed new life into the dying embers, and the renewed fire left the room warm and aglow. The little stocking was jubilant with his newly acquired gifts. They may not have been toys, or instruments, or delectable edibles like the other stockings had; no, the little stocking was filled with something far more valuable ~ the very essence of God. If it weren't that the little stocking was so joy-full he would have been sad for the other poor, little stockings. Yes, he felt very sorry for them, because the 'things' he was filled with couldn't be stolen away like all the other things could be ~ but what he had could be shared. That made the little stocking very happy, indeed. You see, the empty ~ I mean ~ the full, little stocking in a town way up north, in a little house, on a little mantle, over a little fireplace in a little room, discovered something very important that Christmas Eve; that it wasn't such a bad thing to be empty after all. Being empty left more room for God to come in with all of His Glory ~ and that's a good thing!

From then on, every Christmas day, the little stocking thanked God for all His gifts, and come what may, he knew he would never be empty again.

The End

Copyright©2006 Marianne Coyne