If You’re Stepping into the New Year with Empty Hands…

I remember the year Maggie cried when I pulled the Christmas stockings down.

I know, I know, Christmas feels long gone and the new year is already seven days old.

But this morning, as I warmed my toes by the cackling fire in the dark before dawn, I stared at the empty mantle above the flame and realized that this was the first year I’d managed to pack up our Christmas decorations without arguments or tears— undeniable proof that my babies are growing up!

 Un-decorating hasn’t always been so easy.

When Maggie was three, she decided that her stocking should be a permanent fixture in our house.

And she was horrified to learn that I didn’t agree…

She’d watched me dismantle the tree and box up the ornaments; toss the greenery and roll up the lights.

She’d helped me gather the sheep and count the wisemen; secure baby Jesus and tuck away the manger.

But when I’d reached for the empty socks dangling from the mantle, the tears had begun to seep.

“No, Mommy! Don’t pack away our stockings,” she’d pleaded.

“But, Honey,” I’d explained, “Christmas is over.”

She’d stood silent in the middle of the family room, that fuzzy pink blanket dangling from her clenched fist and her rosy bottom lip jutting defiant in pouty protest.

“Leave them hanging up, Mommy. P-L-E-A-S-E…”

I’d turned from the mantle to face my girl, and I’d squatted on one knee to gaze straight into her baby blues.

“Maggie,” I’d said, my voice calm and quiet. “The stockings are empty. See?”

I’d plucked her crimson sock from the hook on which it hung and slid my hand all the way to the bottom, poking my fingers along the seam. Then I’d pulled out my arm and offered my empty palm to my little girl. “Look,” I’d repeated, as I tipped the stocking upside down and shook it vigorously to emphasize my point. “There’s nothing in there anymore. You took everything out on Christmas morning. Remember?”

Maggie had stood silent and I’d assumed we’d reached a truce.

I’d given my daughter a one-armed hug and then reached for the six other stockings that hung in a limp row along the mantle.

“Mo-o-o-mmmm-y!” Maggie had erupted. “It’s not fair. I said, please.”

I’d willed myself to be patient and turned to face my little girl once more.

“Maggie, we’ll hang our stockings again next year. But right now, we need to pack them away so they don’t get lost before next Christmas. Besides,” I’d repeated. “They’re em-pty.”

Maggie had slunk to the ground, a sad shadow crossing her face. Finally, she’d shrugged her shoulders in surrender and declared with a quiet moan, “I know that, Mommy!  That’s why I want you to leave my stocking hanging there…..” She threw her hands up in the air and waved them for dramatic effect. “ ‘Cause when it’s empty, it has lots of room to be filled.”

She’d looked at me with pleading eyes, begging me to see from her point of view. And suddenly, I’d understood her three-year-old logic.

I’d bit my lip in amusement and tried not to giggle, “So you’re thinking if you leave that empty stocking up, it just might get filled again?”

“Well,” Maggie had smirked. “It does have room for something new..”

That story seemed fitting this morning as I lingered near the fireplace with my Savior before the sun peeked over the frosted trees beyond the window.

Those limbs were bare and so was the mantle where the stockings once hung.

And there was this prayer journal on my lap, opened to an empty page as white as the snow that blankets those branches in the backwoods.

And there was my heart, dangling in wait like those empty stockings Maggie once cried over.

And while a thousand flakes from Heaven waltzed in the dark sky, I leaned into the silence and begged the Lord to speak.

You see, for weeks, I’ve been asking Jesus to give me a word for this new year.

I’m not a big fan of resolutions anymore. My lofty January ideas tend to melt away like Michigan snow in May.

But I am a mighty fan of the Word made Flesh.

And I do believe I have a Savior who dreams bigger dreams for my life than I can possibly script or imagine.

So last month, as I wrapped packages and tinseled trees, as I juggled holiday schedules and embraced that Advent ache, I began to ask Jesus for a word.

Just one word from the Living Word. 

A word to direct my path; steer my thinking; stretch my soul.

A word to define 2015.

Or wreck it in the most marvelous of ways.

I want a word for the new year.

I’ve sought and I’ve prayed. I’ve meditated and mused.

I’ve listened as my friends have received their words, uniquely tailored for their lives, perfectly suited for their circumstances.

I’ve heard my husband declare his word over and over as we’ve looked backward in thanks and gazed forward in faith.

Still, my word has been slow to come.

I’ve scribbled thoughts of my own in the pages of my journal and pondered promises of old in the pages of my Bible.

But ever since Advent’s end, I’ve felt wrapped in a holy hush.

God has been present but soundless.

Comforting but quiet.

And this morning, as I stared at that blank page in my prayer journal, I was tempted to bemoan the quiet, to push out my bottom lip and pout a little before the sun rose high.

But the longer I looked at that empty page, the more I sensed a wordless hope stirring in my soul.

Because sometimes walking by faith involves a bit of  three-year-old logic.

Faith like a child Jesus called it.

And so, rather than grumble or doubt, rather than question my Savior’s silence or grasp for hurried answers, I grabbed my purple pen and wrote a simple declaration at the top of that stark white page

“Jesus, I’m stepping into 2015 with empty hands. 

This year is yours to fill”
Then, I whispered a hopeful prayer and put my journal back on the shelf.

I don’t know what 2015 will hold, but thanks to a little girl who once cried over an empty stocking, I do know this—

The year that dangles before me has” lots of room for something new” delivered straight from my Savior’s hand.

Happy new year, dear friends!

May 2015 be marked by fresh faith and expectant hearts.

If you have a minute to linger in the comments, I’d love to know what word Jesus is speaking over your new year. Or how you’re feeling as 2015 unfolds.