Hung by the Chimney with Care

I wish you could see them ... the line of felt stockings hanging across the brick wall above the fireplace at my grandfather's home. Last year, it was 39 stockings. This year there are 43 stockings stretched in a line. Each year, we add another 2 or 3 or 4 new stockings ... one for each new baby or new spouse. As our family continues to grow, so do the stockings over the fireplace, until now there are so many that we can barely read the names on each one!

We love to add new stockings, and thankfully we get to do that regularly. But taking one away is a rather hard thing to do. In fact, when my great-grandmother and my grandmother passed away, we didn't remove their stockings from our line. We keep them hanging next to my grandfather's stocking because really they are with us in our hearts.

Last fall, Matt decided he didn't want to be married to me anymore. He made a choice to leave our family. I can only guess that his stocking didn't hang with the others last Christmas, though I honestly don't recall for my grief was too dark then for me to take note of whether or not his stocking was hung by the chimney with care. I imagine that my mother or one of my aunts set his stocking quietly to the side. To this day, I'm grateful to those who took care of situations like this for me during those darkest of days.

Now the Christmas season is upon us again. This past Sunday afternoon, my mother got out the box of stockings and all the stocking-making parafanalia, so that we could begin our annual stocking-making session. Some family began to hang stockings along the wall while others of us crafted new ones to be hung on the line. As we dug through boxes, sifting and sorting the stockings into small family groups, a tan stocking was pulled from the dark recesses of the box. I knew instantly that it belonged to Matt, and seeing it again was like a small jab to the heart.

For a long while, Matt's stocking lay set aside on the table, among a bunch of felt being used to make new stockings. Later on, someone said, "I suppose we could pull the felt holly off of Matt's stocking to reuse on one of these new ones." I retorted, "That's fine with me, though I can't imagine who would want it." I'm glad my kids weren't around to hear me say those words because I instantly regretted saying them. Sometimes my bitterness still gets the better of me.

Even though I regretted what I said, there was a truth to my words. Who in my family would want their new child or grandchild to be given Matt's old stocking? That would be sort of like a slap in the face, wouldn't it? And yet, I couldn't see throwing the stocking away either. It would be as if we were saying he never existed. Sometimes thinking of him causes me pain, and yet to act as though my 14 year marriage to him never happened would be excrutiatingly painful too.

So there the stocking sat, glaring at me. Eventually, I picked it up to use as a template to make another stocking, trying to act as if it didn't burn my fingers to touch it. My heart felt heavy. I didn't want to put that stocking back in the box only to pull it out again next year and feel these same ugly feelings. I didn't want to trash it or attempt to recycle parts of it either. While I was wondering over what to do with the stocking, Nate walked over and said, "Momma, there's Daddy's stocking. Aren't you going to hang it on the wall?" Thankfully, someone (who must have overheard what he said) suddenly called Nathan away, rescuing me before I had to answer him.

And then, in that awkward moment, as I sat breathing a prayer for wisdom and peace, my Aunt Lucy spoke up: "Maybe your kids could give the stocking to Matt to hang on his wall." Ah-ha! That was the answer I was looking for! If I had been sitting nearer to her, I would have kissed Aunt Lucy! Yes ... I would give the stocking back to Matt. In that moment, I knew as clearly as I knew I had to give Matt his stocking that there was more for me to do ... I needed to create 3 more felt stockings for Matt.

This year, the kids will give their Dad a set of four felt stockings to hang at his home. Now when they visit his home for the holidays in future years, they will find stockings that were lovingly created just for them. It's a gift that I'm choosing to give to my children, even though they will wrap it up to give to their Daddy. Tonight, as I made a new set of stockings that I would never use, but rather give to my kids to give to the man who has caused me such indescribable pain, I'm once again reminded that bitterness can be replaced with peace and answers can be found when we seek the King in the Manger. My heart hasn't hurt not one time tonight as I crafted ... in fact, I smiled thinking of how my kids will be blessed by something as simple as a stocking made out of felt.