Capture Your Grief, Day 21: Sacred Space

September 12, 2015 | Home | Longview, Texas

Day 21: Sacred Space

We never had any nurseries, any places or spaces that really held themselves sacred after our losses. Everything happened so quickly each time that the only space I found myself in consistently was one of emptiness more than anything. Overall though, our home was a place of refuge for me…We moved into it just months before this all began and will be moving out at the end of next month, and in some ways it holds so much of the emotion that we’ve carried over the last two years. This home has provided a nest for me and Justin and in its own way has cradled us in our walk through loss. The back porch where I’ve sat and written these blogs or watched the fire burn while Piper played in the yard and the bathroom where I got my first positive test. The spare room that we began cleaning out for our little one and slowly filled back up when we found out they would never arrive. The bedroom where Justin and I rest in each others arms and talk at night about our hopes and dreams for the family we know we’ll have some day... There are many spaces that are dear to me in this home, but none that I would necessarily call sacred in the general definition of the word. To me the sacred is in the small things...the breeze blowing through the house, the dog's collar jingling in the other room, the smell of clean laundry, and that first stream of light that pours through the blinds when you open them at the start of a new day. Next month when we move into our new home much of this will come with us, but as everyone knows who closes a chapter with the latch click of a door, there’s always things that will stay and belong to those walls. We will close on our home and receive keys to the first place that will be truly ours at the end of next month. My heart yearns for a new season, a new start, and a new space. A space that that maybe one day will become sacred to us as we rock our babies in the spare rooms and hear footsteps run down the halls. Until and beyond then it's the crackling of the fireplace and the heartbeat against my cheek as I curl up next to Justin that tells me I'm home, tells me God is with me, and tells me that everything will be just fine.

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