It goes without saying that I spend quite a bit of time in W’s room. From sun up to sun down, we are in and out of that precious space reading books, playing games, and simply spending time together. I love that room. There is something about the space and all of the memories it holds that just warms my heart.
Before those four walls housed W’s room, that little bedroom was my office. I spent hours, days, weeks, months, even years there working, crafting, and dreaming. My office was where my computer was located, along with all of my journals, books, and treasures. With all of the time I spent in that room, I naturally found myself praying and having my quiet time with God. It was my corner of the world to do whatever I needed to do and I loved it.
Tonight as I was rocking W to sleep, I was caught up in the thought of all that room has seen in nearly a decade. I thought of the many emotions brought through the door–incomparable elation when Gilbert asked me to be his bride, stress over FCAT scores, anxiousness in the days leading up to our wedding, hilarity over the dogs’ latest antics. I thought of the giddiness of honeymoon planning, the anticipation of holidays, the freedom of summer vacations. I thought of all of the changes I have seen and the transformations I have experienced since I first claimed this space as mine all those years ago.
While there was so much to reflect on, the emotions of the time leading up to and including motherhood, dominated my thoughts more than any other season. With my precious boy nestled peacefully in my arms, I vividly recalled the tears and desperate prayers cried aloud countless times for just such a privilege. I remembered the fear…the disappointment…the uncertainty. I remembered all of the moments spent wondering if, when, and who God would give us. I thought of the research…the confusion…the hope…the devastation. Sitting there tonight, I looked at the floor and in an instant, was back to the moment when I was face down before God, begging Him for a baby or if it wasn’t in His plan for me, for freedom from the longing for one. I remembered it all and while I was still reeling with the memories, I read the scripture painted above the door in his room,
“For this child, I prayed” 1 Samuel 1:27
It isn’t lost on me.
It isn’t lost on me that the same room in which I cried out to God for a child is the one that catches my precious boy’s whimpers when he rouses from sleep.
That the same floor that caught my tears, now catches bubbles blown in play time when they float beyond his eager grasp.
That the same walls that gave me a quiet place to pray, now give him a quiet place to rest.
It isn’t lost on me.
God did something HUGE in my world by giving me this little boy and there is not a single moment I take it for granted. I know it isn’t coincidence that while the outside of this room remains the same, the inside has been completely transformed. That’s just so quintessentially God…it’s what He does…and I am so. very. thankful.
