His stocking is empty. The stocking I made to match with our farm boy.  A stocking I have filled for 17 precious years. Stockings that were 4 and then became 8 and this year would have been 9.   But after 17 years.  It is empty.  It hangs limp, while all the others burst from the seams; awaiting their precious owners. But it's not about the stockings, or the tree.   It's not about the presents; but His presence. And as I stepped outside this morning, the heavens declared their Majesty. The moon and the stars in all their bright, glory rang out the song that,  Jesus is ... View Post