After church, the girls are ready for a nap. We arrive home and I spend quiet time with them giving gentle back scratches as they begin to dose off. I whisper, “I love you” to each of them and quietly tip-toe out the door.

I take a deep breath, grab my bible, colorful pens, cute washi tape, paper, and I sit outside in my comfy chair. It’s peaceful out here. The light breeze shakes the forest trees and the squirrels come out to dance on ground and hop from tree to tree.

This is the chair space.

This is where you will find me after church in this quiet and peaceful space. This is where I reflect on the message given at church, my heart, my life, my daughters, and everything in between. This is where the heavy stuff comes forward, tears may fall, and I may question events that have happened in my life. This is where I ground my body. This is where I ground myself in Jesus.

This is the chair space.

Recently, I have found myself feeling completely hopeless in being able to protect the baby that will soon be joining our family. My future son or daughter. My daughters’ brother or sister. Think about that, really think about it. This beautiful and precious life is completely out of my hands. I have no control in. All I can do is wait and pray over their life. While my worry is high, God has this in his hands and he tells me not to worry.

Why am I tearing up while writing this?

This is the chair space and realizations come to life.

There was a moment in my life where I was distant from God… I saw nothing good. I was clothed in darkness and I saw no way out. Through that, God was still there, filling my life with blessings that I now can see. I guess the emotions come forward because the love God has for me is overwhelming and hard to comprehend at times, even though I was so distant. The love I feel from God is the same love He is giving my future son or daughter.

As we are in the waiting, I feel God preparing me and stirring something in my heart. I feel at peace welcoming a 3rd baby into our home. I feel at peace in the work God is doing on our lives; and I freely choose listen and step out, even when I don’t have all the answers or know what to do.

This is the stuff that comes forward while sitting in this calm and cozy space. I allow my heart to poor out and I allow God’s grace to fill me up. His grace is more beautiful than I can ever imagine. This is the beauty of the chair space.

To my future son or daughter,

Your sisters and I are waiting for you. We talk about you often and we can’t wait to have you join our family. We love you dearly and we are praying for you. We can’t wait to walk this journey with you. We can’t wait to hold you safe and sound in our arms. Until then, please know, you are worthy, you are loved, you are wanted.

Please stay strong, my dear little one.