The Making of a Nursery

When we were searching for a house over 5 years ago, we were adamant about many things.  (Ask our longsuffering/amazing realtor Missy!)  One being that we needed a house with 4 bedrooms.  Us, Elijah, office/guest room, and nursery.  Duh.  This is what we required.

So, we moved into our home fully intending to make that happen.  Except infertility.  And later, adoption delays.  To a husband and wife who want nothing more than to fill a room with a child, the “nursery” door started to look pretty ominous.  Since it is right across from our bedroom, we couldn’t (and can’t) ignore it.  The closed and empty room was equally our hopes and our devastation.  A constant reminder of “Maybe, maybe, maybe” and also “Not yet, not now, perhaps never.”  As you can imagine, that mental and emotional tug of war was excruciating.

The nursery became a throw away room.  Filled with odds and ends, random junk.  I refused to decorate it because what was the point?  The color and life so obvious in the rest of the house remained absent from this room.  A blank slate speaking volumes.

To summarize the pictures: Drop ceiling-Eww, Cream walls-Eww, Boring cabinetry-Eww, Old junk-Eww.

 

Then one evening I came home from time away and David and Elijah had fully cleaned the nursery.  Stuff relocated, clutter purged.  There was a little heartbeat in the walls.  At least, I stopped actively hating the room at that point.  Although our daughter felt (and feels) so far removed from our reality, there was space for her once more.

But adoptions in Ethiopia slowed down and I started shutting the nursery door again.  Literally and figuratively.  In my mind, heart, and house, I closed the nursery door.  Then God opened it again with foster care.  That Redeemer of mine.  When I finally concede to “No,” He is always waiting with another “Yes!”

So, we went for it.  We made a nursery for real.  It is full of arrows, which symbolize direction.  Maybe not always the direction WE intended to go, but always the path Jesus foresaw.  I see a room full of love.  Packed with gifts from friends, reminders of family, hand-me-downs from future playmates.  It’s beautiful in a way I never expected.

Toy corner or a comfy window seat!

The new, much less boring cabinet doors.

See our cute chalkboard paint border?!?

Like the new road map top of the dresser?

Beautiful blanket made by my Grandma!!

Couldn't afford to change drop ceiling yet, so we painted it.  Completed with glow stars!

 This journey wasn’t easy.  Housing foster children in our daughter’s room was never my plan.  It’s a lot like the free dresser we got for the nursery.  Once David and my Dad brought it into the room, its smoky, musty smell was apparent.  I washed it thoroughly.  Misted it with vinegar water to dispel the odor.  Rubbed it with lemon cleaner.  Sanded and painted the drawer fronts.  Modge podged the top with state road maps indicating friends and family who’d be praying over the nursery’s future occupants.  Awww-cute, right?  But the stink lingered, even after considerable effort.  Which is certainly a perfect picture of ME, not to mention our foster kiddos.  Because cleaning up the outside isn’t the hard part.  Externally going through the motions is easy.  Yes God I will do what you want; Look at me-I’M DOING IT!  But our insides fester with bitterness -or- perhaps with foster babies it is shame, distrust, or fear simmering within.  We can look the part without surrendering our emotions, those we close tightly in our fetid drawers.  However just as a healthy environment allows foster children to open up and accept love, sitting longer in the fullness of God’s grace encourages US to loosen our grip, air out.  In time, ugliness starts to dissipate.  Heaven knows, you don't then throw away relational investments like these.  My dresser may still need to be taken outside and shellacked, but I’m keeping it.  And I’m pretty sure God feels the same way about me (especially the "needs to be taken outside and shellacked" part).

Yes, our family & Olive Garden share the same slogan.  We're equally accepting of all foster children and pasta varieties.