A void

There was some discussion in our adoption class over the weekend about talking to our future daughter about how they were adopted and how they came to be with us. One of the pitfalls might be to tell our daughter that we were infertile and that she became our "second" or "last" choice.

And I thought of something I should have said, but I probably couldn't have in front of everyone else.

For us, the void that exists in our lives is like a puzzle piece that is missing, or a chair that doesn't have anyone to sit in it. We kept trying to fit something into the void to see if it would fit and it never did. The pieces we tried to fit in were too big or too small, or the wrong shape, so that it just fell out. Anyone who tried to sit in the empty seat found it didn't fit them correctly.

But soon, the correct puzzle piece will fit and stay. The chair will be filled with the person who is supposed to sit there. It will be a very good thing.