Empty room. Empty heart.

There is an empty place on the floor of my bedroom. A week ago it had the sum of the world's possessions for a young boy, minus the bed and the bike at his grandma's house. Three boxes. Two held his clothes, socks, underwear, shirts, pants and shorts. Some were given to me by his mom. Some had belonged to his cousin. Some had belonged to my sons. One box had his pictures from the airshow, the drawings, the AWANA store.

But there are no boxes on the floor of my room anymore. There is no boy, saying, "Mrs. Jaeger." in his 5-year-old slur that could not pronounce Rs or Ls. No one has awakened me in the night with a bad dream this past week. No one has enticed my youngest into pouring soap all over the counter of the  pink bathroom. My 6 year old has not enticed anyone to throw wet chalk at the back door this week. There's been no biting or wrestling or sandbox playing.

It is cleaner in my room. And in the boys room where the sleeping bag has been put away. My house is cleaner. More convenient. Easier. This week.

I can clean the floor of my room and the boys room. But what do I do with this place in my heart? Do I clean that, too? But how? Because having him here was cleaning my heart: revealing my selfishness, requiring me to think beyond my own inconvenience.

What do you do when you don't want to go back? But you weren't sure how you would keep going forward? What do you do when life has changed and it wasn't your decision for him to come or to go?

I didn't like having nothing left of me. It felt terribly uncomfortable to only be able to rely on the grace of God. But yet I don't really want to go back to relying on me and my strength.

How do I live like I need Jesus all the time when it doesn't feel like it quite so much?

Nine weeks he came to live with us. One day we did not know him. The next he was here sharing our lives whether we liked it or not. He shared our airshow, our cousins, our clothes, our food, our grandparents, our bathroom, our tree house, our sandbox, our swimming excursions, our excitement of riding in the new 'swagger-wagon'.

Sometimes we didn't mind.

Sometimes we did.

Now, there is no one sleeping in the bag in the middle of the boy's room. There are no boxes in my room.

And there's a big gaping hole in my heart left by a five year old boy who doesn't live here anymore.

Oh fill me, Lord, with You and not with me. Fill me afresh today with You. Fill Yourself in the places that you pushed away in my heart, revealing my deep selfishness. Fill it still with your wonderful, matchless grace. 

Keep me in the palm of Your hand as you did when  I could only rely on the grace of God and the prayers of the saints to get me through each step of every day. Amen.

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Linking up with Jen and Emily.