There’s a room in my house that I don’t go in to.  A room where the door stays closed hoping that I won’t be reminded as often that we are still waiting to fill it.  To try to ignore the fact that it’s empty.

When we finalized our home study, we emptied out the guest room, sold the guest bed, moved the crib into it, and cleaned out the closet.  We wanted to be ready.  We had heard the stories of some who had a fast placement.  We heard the stories of being “matched” with the first situation.  I wanted this to be our story.  I wanted to be ready.  I mean after all, this was the desire of our heart and something we knew makes God happy, so why shouldn’t it be a quick process?

For six months now, I’ve ignored that the room is even part of our house.  Because I want to ignore the fact that a part of me feels empty too.  Because it stinks to let my heart even go there.

With each “no” I hope that the process will get easier…that I’ll get less attached…that it won’t hurt as much.  But of course, the opposite has happened.  And my attitude has resulted in negativity in my life, and sadly in my view of God.

I know all the right phrases. 

“That wasn’t our baby.” 

“God’s not done yet.”

“God has different plans.” 

“God is faithful.”

“Your baby is coming.”

But it doesn’t heal my angered heart.  Am I allowed to say that?  That I’m angry with God?

Sometimes I hurt and sometimes I’m flat out mad.

Why does it have to take time if there are babies needing a home and we have a home with an empty room and a desire to have a baby join our family?

Why did I feel like we should present to that situation if the answer was going to be a no?

What’s wrong with us that some families get picked right away and we are six months in and don’t feel a single step closer?

A week ago I was preparing a Sunday School lesson for our 11th and 12th grade girls at church.  I was reading in Romans and a verse jumped out to me that I needed to be reminded of, but didn’t want to be reminded of.

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.  Romans 12:12

Be joyful in hope.

Am I joyful?  Nope.

Be patient in affliction.

Am I patient?  That’s a big no.

Be faithful in prayer.

Am I praying?  Only with frustrated words and an angry heart.

This….this is my answer?  Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction and faithful in prayer?

That doesn’t sound like what I want to do at all.  I want to pray with good intention.  And I want God to answer.  I want things to happen in my timing.

I want things to happen my way.

My will, not God’s.

On Tuesday, the morning after our last no, I woke up in a bad mood.  I was talking to God on my drive to work and sharing all of my angry thoughts and the song “Thy Will” came on the radio.

I heard it with fresh ears and I didn’t like what I heard because it was so close to what I was feeling and it hurt.  I didn’t want to cry because I’m too angry to cry.  I say out loud that I’m okay all the time.  I tell myself and others that we are doing fine with this wait.  I want it to be true and I feel like my tears betray that desire to be okay.  I’ve included the video below if you want to hear it in its entirety.  When the song got to the bridge with the words, “I know you see me.  I know you hear me, Lord.  Your plans are for me.  Goodness you have in store” I had to acknowledge again that God is good, that He is present and that He cares.  That He’s not the distant God I’ve made him in my mind over the past few months.  He is not an uncaring, distant figure watching my life unfold without any input or care.

But He is present.

He sees me.

He hears me.

He has a plan for me.

And He has goodness in store.

While I’ve been saying with my lips that it’s about God’s will, my heart has been desiring my own will.

And just so you know, it stinks to write my feelings out like this.  To read them.  To admit to them.  But this is where I’ve been and I promised I’d share the process.  I hope that maybe in some way there may be someone else in a similar spot in their journey.  Where you are waiting on the Lord and it just stinks right now.  That maybe you needed to be reminded of this too.


Originally published on 6/18/16.

One Reply to “An Empty Room”

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