The Red Couch

Yesterday, I went to the adoption agency to drop off Christmas presents for Holland. No matter how much time passes, it still breaks my heart to walk into that building.

In the 11 years that I have been associated with them, New Life has grown and expanded in so many ways. It is exciting to see what God is doing through them, how many babies have been saved and families blessed. But, there is one thing that hasn't changed- that red couch.

I can't help but thinking about how many lives have been changed on that couch, about how many memories are held in that worn out leather. I wonder how many tears have been cried and fallen into the cracks.

For some, the couch holds memories of anticipation. Maybe that is where they sat and waited to meet their birthmom for the first time. She walks in, glowing with the life growing inside of her. This was the woman that has chosen you to be the parents to her child. Will she like you? Will you make a good first impression? Will we know immediately if this is the child that God has for us?

Then later, one of the best moments of your life occurs on that couch. Memories of the most joyous day are captured- the day that you became a mom. This time, she walks in the room with that little life now glowing in her arms, it's your baby. She sits on the couch beside you, holding him, unable to let him go just quite yet. Finally she says, "Are you ready?" Trembling with emotion, you reach out and take the most precious gift that you have ever been given. What a beautiful moment that you will always treasure, right there on the red couch.

For others, that couch holds memories of pain and heartache.
She feels a different type of anticipation than they feel, the day that she meets them for the first time. She has read profile after profile and prayed diligently. She feels drawn to that particular couple for various reasons. Something that they wrote or one of the pictures, makes her feel like they are the ones that she wants to raise her son. But, how do you ever choose that? How can you ever pick that from a profile? Is anyone really good enough for your child? She sits with them on that red couch and tries to tell them about her, about her son. Is this really happening? Am I really doing this? This step makes it feel so real.

One month later, what is the best day of their life, is the worst day of hers. After spending an hour alone with him, praying over him, singing to him, telling him how very much she loves him- she walks into the room and sees them sitting there on that red couch. She sits beside them, clinging to the last few minutes that she has with him. She shows them the present that she has brought for him, a treasure box of memories- his first bible, a scrapbook of pictures in case he ever wonders what she looks like or what her family is like. The conversation is a blur to her because all she really can hear are her own thoughts, telling her not to do this. This just isn't fair, she is his mother! No, but it is what is right for him. This is love. This is being a mother. She kisses his sweet sleeping face and hands them her son.

Some of you that read this blog know that red couch very well. It holds it's own memories for you. I pray that they are joyful memories of God filling your arms.

For me, it holds the painful memories. I met the adoptive parents there, I placed my son into his mom's arms there, kissed him and walked away. I thought that would be the hardest day of my life. But, I was wrong. Because it was a contested adoption, I had visitation of him for the first year. When the terms of the adoption were settled, my rights were finally terminated and I had my last visit with my son. We played outside and ran around and then I sat on that red couch with him in my arms and told him how very much I loved him. I thought walking away was hard the first time, but to have to do it again was the most indescribable pain. Though I knew he was loved and safe, I felt like I was abandoning him. That was the worst day of my life.

It just amazes me to think that one piece of furniture can hold so many memories and such a vast array of emotions.

I am reminded to pray for each person that sits on that couch. Whether they are hurting, scared, anxious, or full of joy. I pray that each of them walk out of that building with a heart full of peace that can only come from the Lord, even if their arms are empty.