We are in the process of adopting a beautiful little girl from Russia. "Wait," you may be thinking, "aren't Russian adoptions closed to Americans now?" Yes, yes, they are. But she's still there, and we have hope that someday, she will be here, and until that day arrives, we will be "in process."
This has been an unreal time We had just returned from our first trip, from meeting her and loving on her and telling her we'd be back when suddenly, instead of praying for a speedy court date and smooth sailing, we're simply praying we will have her someday.
A couple of months ago, I asked my husband, "So now what are we going to do with a pink room?" A ridiculous question in the middle of a ridiculous situation. A way of acknowledging the possibility that that pink room might not be occupied by our little girl, without coming right out and saying, "What if she doesn't come home?" A way of expressing the feeling that room (so lovingly and excitedly prepared) now often evokes- "what about all the months of planning and dreaming? are they to be wasted?" An unspoken question- "how long do we keep this bedroom pink and little-girlish and empty? Will it become a shrine to the daughter that never was?"
Sometime later, I met a friend for coffee at the local book store. It was the first time we'd really talked since the News. She asked how we were doing and I shared our conversation about the pink room, asking the question with a self-deprecating smile and maybe a hint of tears.
And she had an answer. "Use it for your orphan advocacy. Do your writing there. Store your collected donations."
Use it.
Welcome to The Pink Room. Here you'll meet us and learn about our passion for orphans. You'll hear about our daughters, those in the U.S and the one still waiting to come. And you'll discover the ways you can help the orphans, too.
This has been an unreal time We had just returned from our first trip, from meeting her and loving on her and telling her we'd be back when suddenly, instead of praying for a speedy court date and smooth sailing, we're simply praying we will have her someday.
A couple of months ago, I asked my husband, "So now what are we going to do with a pink room?" A ridiculous question in the middle of a ridiculous situation. A way of acknowledging the possibility that that pink room might not be occupied by our little girl, without coming right out and saying, "What if she doesn't come home?" A way of expressing the feeling that room (so lovingly and excitedly prepared) now often evokes- "what about all the months of planning and dreaming? are they to be wasted?" An unspoken question- "how long do we keep this bedroom pink and little-girlish and empty? Will it become a shrine to the daughter that never was?"
Sometime later, I met a friend for coffee at the local book store. It was the first time we'd really talked since the News. She asked how we were doing and I shared our conversation about the pink room, asking the question with a self-deprecating smile and maybe a hint of tears.
And she had an answer. "Use it for your orphan advocacy. Do your writing there. Store your collected donations."
Use it.
Welcome to The Pink Room. Here you'll meet us and learn about our passion for orphans. You'll hear about our daughters, those in the U.S and the one still waiting to come. And you'll discover the ways you can help the orphans, too.
I'm here in Virginia yelling and praying for the little one who belongs in that pink room. Welcome to the world of advocating!!
ReplyDeleteThank you! I hope I can contribute a fraction of the help you have. :)
ReplyDelete