There is a spare room in our house that has been many things.
a storage space for unopened dishes, Christmas decorations, an old TV
a guest bedroom
and now a nursery
The room is beautiful. My husband and I bought and assembled furniture, hung shelves and picture frames, and decorated until it felt right. And it does. It feels right.
The room is beautiful, but it is empty. We have at least two and a half more months of classes, paperwork, and inspections before we become licensed foster parents, and after that, who knows? After that, we wait for the phone to ring.
Our empty nursery is, for now, a symbol of hope.
But for many, an empty nursery is a symbol of grief.
The loss of a child in the early stages of development.
The struggle to conceive or to carry a child to term.
The child who has outgrown his crib, his high chair, his infancy.
The death of a young child.
The reunification of a foster child with her birth family.
The “waiting game”, whether it be conception or adoption.
When I stand in the doorway, I say a prayer for all the empty nurseries. I pray for all the mamas – already mamas, soon-to-be mamas, trying-to-be mamas, foster mamas, adoptive mamas.
May God be with you as you mourn.
For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep. …and so we will always be with the Lord.
(1 Thessalonians 4:14,17b)
May He be with you as you struggle.
Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love Him.
(James 1:2-4, 12)
May He be with you as you wait.
The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
to the soul who seeks Him.