Ever since we moved into our home a year ago, we have had a room designated as "the baby room." Over the course of that year, our references to that room in general conversation have drawn more than a few raised eyebrows, especially when we clarify that we are not expecting.
Call it what you will--expectancy, or hope, or just a need to have somewhere to put the gazillion baby things we have. It's our baby room.
I realized today that that room has been driving me nuts.
Over the course of the past five or six months, I've really struggled with waiting on God. All of the feelings I dealt with around this time last year were back--of just wrestling with God's timing, of wanting something different than my reality. And each month, there was/is that awful reminder that my dream has failed to become real...again. Needless to say, it's been hard.
Back to the room.
Several months ago...(ahem, almost a year ago), we bought new doors to install in three of our bedrooms (including the baby room). For various reasons, the baby room door never got installed, which means that every time I walk by, I can see into the room.
Already struggling + constant baby stuff in my face = not a good mix It wasn't helping me focus on the today, the here-and-now, my God-given reality.
Today I rearranged that room. I put as many of the baby things in the closet as I could. I moved the furniture to the far corner, out of immediate sight. And I moved my craft stuff in.
Baby room, while I look forward to you fulfilling your intended purpose, I'm choosing to live in the present. I will pray over your walls and eagerly await my answered prayer, but in the meantime, I will live.