The Box

There's a box in our bedroom. It's part of a collection of boxes that began many years ago. This particular box, what makes it unique, is it's a constant reminder, sitting in plain view everyday.

This box and it's contents were ordered over a year ago in anticipation...

Of an adoption.

Yes, we were going to adopt a baby. And like most people in anticipation of a new baby in their lives, we began planning. We made a baby registry. We found out the sex and began trying to decide on a name. We told only a few people, mainly close family and those who would be affected when we took maternity/paternity leave. We designed a nursery. We planned travels and experiences for our child. We imagined a life as parents.

We kept in contact with the birth mom. We received ultrasounds and baby updates. We consulted a lawyer and anticipated being in the hospital on the day of the birth, holding our new child in our arms.

Only the birth day came, and we weren't there.  Facebook told us it had happened.

Because early on the birth mom decided she was going to keep the baby and didn't tell us.

I don't know if heartbroken is an accurate description of our feelings.

But there was definitely anger.

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All the other boxes are stored away, out of eyesight. Out of reminder-view.  They're full of treasures waiting to be unpacked.  Treasures we've collected in anticipation of our dream coming true.

But the contents of this particular box were going to be set up in our bedroom, so when it was delivered, we simply stored it in our room until time to unpack it.

It sits there, still all sealed up, collecting dust, constantly reminding us of what could have been, and God willing, may still yet be.

Because in that box is a crib, waiting for an occupant.






Photo cred: Photo by Brandable Box on Unsplash