The Power of a Room

There is this room in my house...  For the past 11 months it has had tremendous power over me. When I walk past its open door, it always pulls a glance its way.  When I enter it, the reality of past hurts await me.  It is the room in which my husband died.

I wasn't home the night he died, and I didn't want to return home either, because he had died there.  But the fact is, I have my dream home.  Its my home, God gave it to me,  and I love it! Filled with the encouragement and support of my friends, I returned home after burying my husband.  And in a short amount of time I "got over" the fact that he died here... all except for that room.  The first time I entered it after he died, I literally spoke out loud to it.  "Room, you will not have any power over me!"  But despite my words, it did.  And it has for months.  I  got rid of all the furniture that was in there, because I thought it would help.  However, it only served to make it worse.  It became cold and sterile, like a crime scene: white walls, white carpet, no furniture, no drapes.

Last winter my best friend encouraged me, "you should do something wonderful with that room.  Make it your prayer room.  Give the devil a black eye."  I loved the idea, but resisted.  "I don't think I can be in that room, with my eyes closed...."  I told her.  It was due to the trauma I suffered at a young age which caused a fear of death. I dealt with that fear most of my life.  Although in recent years God set me free from it, I knew I couldn't possibly be comfortable in that room, not at night, not with my eyes closed.

But something amazing happened over the next few days.  As I was praying in my bedroom I had this desire to go in the room, and pray there.  So I decided to make it my prayer room.  I began praying in there last winter, and I would consistently spend my quiet time with God in there.  I loved the idea of taking what had been a symbol  of pain and a scar of my loss, and using it for something beautiful and purposeful.  All the while, there was still this uncomfortableness about it.

A few weeks ago I was starting to really struggle with grief, which I am sure is normal as I approach the one year anniversary.  As I would pray in there, my eyes would be drawn to the spot of the room where I envisioned him dying, and I'd be distracted by grief.

 I decided it was time to take this "crime scene" of a room, and physically turn it into my prayer room.  I bought some paint, a rug, and curtains.  I pulled some shelves from the basement, and went to work.  In the process of finishing this project something changed; there was a shift.  The room lost its power!  The very first morning I entered my prayer room, the joy of the Lord was waiting for me.  I had the most joyful, happy, peaceful time in prayer, that I've had in months.  I now glance down the hall, and instead of an eeriness, I'm hungry to pray.  The rooms calls to me, to come and be with my Jesus, to spend time with Him, morning, noon or night.

I absolutely love praying, worshipping, or reading my Bible in there.  It is no longer "the room", it's now truly my prayer room.  What has happened in that room no longer bothers me.  On the contrary, its very healing. There is something so beautiful about having intimate moments with my Maker, in the exact place where my husband experienced his most intimate of moments with Him- going home!  The room is a picture of my life.  God is taking something empty, barren and cold- a reflection of all my hurts and pains, and turning it into something utterly beautiful!