And just like that nine months have gone by since my last post. It's hard to know where to begin. Last year this time I was hitting all of the local garage sales, painting the nursery, and weighing the various diapering options. Today, the nursery remains relatively unchanged -- clothes sit neatly folded in the dresser and the crib is empty. A stained-glass butterfly hangs in a window overlooking our backyard. Under it sits a table with a small photo album placed carefully atop a prayer shawl we received from a local ministry. In that little room I have rocked myself to sleep clutching my son's photo and a box of kleenex. I have shaken my fists towards the heavens and wondered why? What was the purpose of pouring your heart and soul into something, I thought, if it was just going to be taken away? I have struggled with the notion of faith and hope. The past nine months have been difficult.Despite my struggles, that little room brings me peace and comfort. The dressers are hand-me-downs from my parents and -- though they have a fresh coat of paint -- have a familiar smell of home. There's also something about the way the light streams through the window in the early morning and evening hours that takes my breath away. It is a good space. A sacred space. As my heart heals, I find myself daring to dream about a day when this little room will welcome home a little brother or sister for AJ ...
