Last Christmas so.freaking.many of my Facebook friends announced they were pregnant.
Last Christmas I was quietly aching with the disappointment of not being pregnant.
Last Christmas I was beginning to worry that something was wrong with my body.
Last Christmas I was so insanely in love with my husband that my heart broke at the possibility that our dreams of raising a family wouldn't come to fruition.
Last Christmas my husband, my hero, consoled me and hugged me and reminded me of God's goodness.
Last Christmas I went shopping with my mother-in-law and bought a beautiful off-white stocking from the 75% off rack.
Last Christmas I purchased that little stocking with the faith that someday my child would use it.
Last Christmas I chose joy. I chose confidence. I chose to reject fear and self-pity and instead turned my eyes toward Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith.
Last Christmas I hoped and prayed and dreamed that this Christmas would be different.
And it is.
The beautiful little off-white stocking now hangs with our two stockings in the living room, just down the hall from toys and books and strollers and car seats and diapers and tiny pink dresses.
Last Christmas God was doing a redemptive work in my heart and my life. And this Christmas is the same. But so very different.