When Hope Appeared

How is Immanuel coming to you this Christmas? Laurie Geisz shares her Immanuel moment. 

Elisa

When Hope Appeared

By Laurie Geisz

It was the afternoon of December 24, 2005—unbelievably, 20 years ago now. But I remember that Christmas Eve as if it were yesterday.

I had barely gotten out of bed all day; my eyelids were literally swollen over my eyes from my tears. I had always loved Christmas Eve’s candle-lighting services, but I knew I wouldn’t be going that night. Attending would mean getting out of bed, taking a shower, getting dressed, and worst of all, potentially having to talk to people or smile. All of that seemed far beyond what I felt capable of doing.

I remember my mom had said to me, “We can still hope.” Her words had seemed foreign, and I’d realized I was in a place without hope.

Less than 48 hours ago, with much joy and anticipation, I had gone to my 20-week ultrasound, excited to learn if my fifth child was a boy or a girl. I had found out my precious baby was a boy, but also that he had two abnormal conditions which could be the sign of a chromosomal disorder that would prove fatal. A more specialized ultrasound was needed, and an amniocentesis would confirm definitively. But because it was right before the holiday weekend, I would need to wait until next week to have the tests.

Wait until next week to learn the fate of my baby. Wait though Christmas weekend.

Sometime during the afternoon of Saturday, December 24, I got out of bed and walked into my bathroom. At the base of my window a little bird faced me, fluttering its wings. It seemed to be looking at me. Never in eight years of living in that house had I seen a bird in this window—there is no windowsill on which a bird could perch. But on this afternoon, a bird was there… and when I saw it, a thought entered my brain: as much as God cared for that little bird, he cared even more for me.

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?

Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care.

And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.

So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”

~ Matthew 10:29-31 ~

The bird’s presence also made me think of God’s presence with me. Scripture we often quote at Christmastime was becoming personal… “‘The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel’ (which means ‘God with us’)” (Matthew 1:23). Through this little bird, God was showing me he was with me.

Immanuel had entered my world. He had reached down into my life, right into my pain. “God with us” had crossed mysterious barriers of time and space and was proving his name to me. I remember the moment as if it were yesterday. It was the instant God’s light penetrated my darkness… when hope appeared.

But Immanuel wasn’t finished. The little bird also caused me to think of the little boy who was to be celebrated that night. God was gently taking my eyes off me and the uncertain life of my son and refocusing them on him and the certain life of his. My heavenly Father was reminding me it was Christmas Eve, a night we honor Jesus, his Son, his Gift to this world, and my Savior and Lord.

God led me to our church’s candle-lighting service. In his infinite wisdom and compassion, I believe he wanted my eyes to be on Jesus, for he knew the strength I would need in days to come.

I will never forget that Christmas Eve, holding up my lighted candle in a darkened sanctuary in praise, honor, and worship of Jesus, the King of kings, the Baby in the manger. Although it was the most difficult Christmas Eve of my life, it was also the most meaningful. I saw with my own eyes, felt with my heart, a truth I’ve heard many times since: light does its best work in darkness.

I was so thankful I had come to church… so thankful for the little bird… so thankful for Immanuel. I knew in my heart the Spirit of God was not only empowering me to persevere Christmas weekend, but also blessing it in a far greater way than I ever would have imagined. I realized it was gracious of God to let my weekend of waiting be over Christmas, for it was perfect timing to receive the gift of Jesus.

I had no idea then, but am fully convinced now, God was already holding me in the palm of his hand.

Laurie Geisz is an author, speaker, and Bible teacher. Her first book, containing the rest of her story, will be published in September 2026. Laurie is pursuing a Master's in Biblical and Theological Studies at Denver Seminary and is passionate about coming alongside those who grieve. She invites you to connect with her and sign up for her newsletter "Grief, Grace, and God" at lauriegeisz.com.