First day in a new room

For years we have had one bedroom that was without purpose, kind of a catch-all junk room. Actually, it was a waiting room. When we bought our 4 bedroom house, we naively thought each room would soon have a purpose - our room, Liv's room, a guest room, and then the room for a future child. It was, after all, only a matter of time. We started the process international adoption in 2013, and although the wait kept extending it would eventually happen...right? And then of course, there was the likely prospect of a biological child. Yes, it was taking a long time to get pregnant but the doctors said there weren't any glaring issues. It was just a matter of time. That's was the story of people around us, and surely we weren't exceptional in that way. Surely God wouldn't hold out in both of those areas. It was just a matter of time.

I've had the unique privilege of spending a fair amount of time in the past couple of months in hospital waiting rooms. The reasons why I was there were heartbreaking, but it was a gift to be there because I was reminded of need and pain outside of my little world. The anxiety in certain types of doctor waiting rooms is visceral. You can see a slew of emotions bubbling up to compensate for the unease- anger, impatience, nervous laughter, or just silence. Now in most cases when in a waiting room, there is a fairly clear end point in your wait. You will see the doctor in a matter of minutes or at worst hours. But my waiting room that took up residence in my house was different. It was a long-suffering void that had serval projected occupancy dates that came and went and came and went again. At times, I would ignore the room and pretend I wasn't in some holding pattern, but I was just kidding myself.

I've spent over a year, with the help of Godly counselor, going into the vacant room both physically and emotionally. I've sat in the sadness. I've stared at it while holding it in trembling hands and mourned deeply the life I thought I'd have. I grieved my best laid plans. I wept for a call that God put on my life that did not going according to plan. And then, I somehow found strength. I stood up and courageously asked, "what is my path forward now?"

So here I am in a no longer vacant room. Rather then a crib or changing table, the room holds a different kind of life. Mine. My creativity. It's chalk-filled with possibility and inspiration, and a computer and keyword. I pray that from me flows hope and inspiration for those who are hurt, lost, lonely, waiting, mourning, or are just ready for their wings.