Well, friends, here it is. Here is my log for the day. Yesterday I got my hair cut (shout out to the fabulous Kelly!) and it was a glorious time because if I could get my hair washed and cut by my stylist every single day, I would. Like Jo March from Little Women, my hair is my one true beauty.
Today I baked a new recipe: almond blondies with date caramel sauce. Let me tell you, they are fabulous. The date caramel sauce was a little less than stellar, but nothing a bit of honey won't fix.
Later we made HW a playroom. This is the crux of my story.
Since the end of May last year when our adoption of BSD fell through I haven't been able to go into his nursery. It was beautiful, friends. Derek found a great changing table that fit just perfectly at a consignment shop for super cheap. My childhood dresser was in there filled with all of our baby clothes. Sweet little baskets sat around the room with blankets or stuffed lovies. Derek got the crib liner thing that you're suppose to have to keep the baby from rolling into the slats just right the first time. The rocker that was at my grandparents for 50+years that my PawPaw sat in every day is in this room. Sweet moments were ready to be had in this room.
See, this room had been staged this way for at least a year with no babies sleeping in that crib. We were going to become foster parents before we began the adoption round 2 so we just left it up knowing there would be babies.
After getting that awful call, "Rebekah? Hey, it's T. She chose to parent. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I am so sorry." I just couldn't go in there. It hurt too much.
I took some time of respite just for me and mourned and that was very healing, but I still couldn't go in that room.
I painted it. Got some new curtains. New wall shelf. New rug. New wall décor.
That helped. It helped to almost wash away the grief. Prepare for what was next.
All the while my heart tugged in another direction. Oh, friends. Have you ever felt the Lord saying something so out of left field you think you imagined it? That was me. The Lord kept bringing me to "It's not time, Rebekah."
"Trust me. It's not time."
"Listen to me, child. It's not time."
I fought this so hard. I pushed it down deeper and deeper and deeper until I was miserable. I finally talked to my best friends and Derek about it. To say that conversation went over like a match in a gas can is putting things lightly. We fought and fought and fought over this...this unimaginable thing I felt deep in my gut, in my soul.
The Lord is many things and constant is one of them. He continually pressed on my heart "It's not time, Rebekah." I eventually broke down, gave in, and waited on Derek to join me. That was not an easy wait. We continued to show our profile to birth mothers and we continued getting the "she chose another family" emails. We continued to be heart broken.
Thankfully, the Lord is also gracious. Though we run like the prodigal son away from His goodness and calling, when we return there is celebration.
We have suspended our adoption for #2 for a little while. We have opened our ears and hearts to where the Lord has for us and where he needs to heal.
Weeks ago I timidly asked Derek if we could take down the nursery and turn it into a playroom for HW. I explained how I couldn't go in that room and he agreed.
Today we did just that. As HW pulled out his trains and train tracks and had the best time, we emptied the room of baby furniture and cried. We put that last pieces of crib in our shed and began to bring in H's train table and stood in our shed weeping together. That last word is what is most important in all of that - together. Today we mourned together. Today we cared for each other together. Today we hurt together.
Self care isn't always fun. It isn't always rainbows and butterflies. Sometimes it is hard and it hurts. Every time it is necessary and important.
We left the cross stitch Derek finished over Christmas as a reminder. There is a thrill of hope. Jesus is our hope when all seems lost and when all seems broken, there is hope.
As a family we spent the remaining hours of the day in this room playing. I laughed for the first time in months in this room. I had joy. I have hope.
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