Sweetly Broken

It's been a while since my last post. We've taken time away to celebrate the holidays, hole up and attempt to recover from everything we've been through. The distance has left many wondering how we are and what we've been up to since the boys left. I've had some people tell me my last post left too much open-ended, that it was tied up with too neat and pretty a bow. Nothing about this story is neat, and very few parts are pretty.

The first few weeks after the boys left were spent grieving, questioning, praying and grieving some more. The emotions felt much like our previous miscarriages, except this time we had faces and names, smiles and memories, visions of how we could become the "perfect" family. It was a hard loss.

I can't even count the times I've questioned myself, wondering if when their social worker asked how we were doing, I should have responded with "Oh, you know. It's hard, but we're adjusting." If I should have gritted my teeth and pushed on. But I didn't. She asked and I responded with the truth. That we weren't adjusting. That I was seriously concerned about my health.

I've had several people tell me that my panic attacks may have been attacks from Satan and that I should have held on in faith and pushed through. Others have said maybe it was God's way of getting me out of a situation that would have been traumatic for my family down the road. Regardless of their source, there is a big difference between anxiety and panic attacks. It's easy for those who have not truly experienced them to write them off as just an excuse to get out of hard things, or as something tough to work through. But for many people who live with them, prayer never solves them and medication becomes the only solution.

Even though we want desperately to heal and move forward, we have chosen to stay involved in Jessey and Irvin's lives. So each week the kids and I load up, head over to the children's shelter and try to pour love and grace into two little lives that can't help but resist and push back, even against something that is breath and life. Those visits are the longest hour of the week. Five little people and one big one crammed in a much-too-small room for 60 minutes. Trying to act like this is natural. Trying to act like this is good. It's not. They don't belong there and it kills me to think that - however unintended - it is because of me. My health and my decision to share truthfully the struggles I was facing. The if-onlys are constant and brutal.

I have faced the guilt of knowing I broke not only their hearts, but the heart of my husband. Ryan was all in. He handled them with such grace, strength and love. He is my hero. He would have preferred they stayed. He knows now and agrees that it wasn't a good fit and we weren't the right family for them, but it doesn't change the ache in my heart from causing my man such pain.

I have come face-to-face with my own pride and fallen before the Father and wept for my shame. The way I would judge others at face value, not bothering to ask about their stories. I have been that mother who judged another mom with a kid throwing a full-blown tantrum, thinking "if only they disciplined more." I have seen the teens with sullen expressions and no desire to listen to authority and felt thankful they were not my problem. I have heard about other's stories and wondered "why in the world" they were making that decision. I have given out little grace and compassion to others when their stories end in heartbreak because of decisions they made and in my mind, could have avoided. I have been wise in my own eyes.

Daily now I pray that I will never have the audacity to judge, or gossip or fill-in-the-blanks of someone else's story. It is not my right. Not my place. No one - even those closest to us - will ever know exactly what we went through. I will never know exactly what you have been through. But I pray so desperately that I will have the courage and love and desire to ask you about your story. To look you in the eyes, keep my mouth quiet and just listen. Listen to your hurt. Listen to your pain. Listen and respond - not in judgement, not with an "I-know-best" response - but with grace and love.

The empathy and respect I have gained for others is monumental. The workers and families and individuals that willingly step into these hard places to care for foster children and push through the muck with them day-in and day-out...They are the real heroes. They have such thankless draining jobs. I have loved seeing the same worker at the shelter each week when we go to visit the boys. It was an honor to write her an encouraging note tucked into a coffee card letting her know that we see and we care and we are so proud of her.

There have been people who question our sincerity. Who have questioned what right I had to encourage others to step in to hard places when I wouldn't even stay there myself. They have questioned "how high I built everything up" and the swift and abrupt way in which it all ended. I have always been the one gung ho for adoption, Ryan less so. Ironically, he is now ten times more committed to the idea of foster care and adoption. I am the one both excited and fearful for the future. I trust him and am so thankful for his faith and leadership. I believe him when he says "Someday when we are old we'll have a wall full of pictures of lives we've impacted or poured into."

We have met with our CPS worker and discussed what happened and where we go from here. We are still on the list for emergency placements. We are still waiting to get a call with an adoption case that may fit our family. We are praying daily that Jessey and Irvin get placed in a forever home, and if that home is local, that we will be allowed to play a part in their new story, providing occasional respite for a family that will definitely need it. I have no clue what will happen in our future - but I do know that God is for us. He is still on His throne. We are still called to love and serve. Most importantly, we are open to whatever God calls us to, whatever form that looks like.

Foster care is messy. It is hard. It is ambiguous and confusing. But it is worth it. I still wouldn't change anything, even though it was the hardest, scariest thing I've ever done. The lessons learned and empathy gained are more than worth the pain.

To those of you who have given to us - either time in prayer or money - we are so thankful for you. People have told us it seems fishy that we would accept money for an adoption that never happened, or for foster kids who were only here for 7 days. If you are one of them, please let us know and we can work out a way to get your money back to you. I would never want money to be the cause of a rift in relationship, or want to accept money that comes with conditions.

I realize that sharing our story in such a public way and then leaving such a long break in communication has lead many of you to question and wonder to each other "what is up" with the Edsons. I realize that it is only natural to fill in the blanks when no information is given. If you still have questions after reading this post, please come and talk to us personally where you can get accurate and truthful information. If someone has been coming to you and asking questions about our story, please point them to this post - or better yet, give them our phone number and encourage them to come talk to us.

We still need your prayers. We will have decisions to make in the future regarding the children we take in and the timing of it all...it may be next month, it may be years down the road when our children are older and more able to deal with the emotional upheaval of it all. We will keep pursuing this path until it ends with one less orphan in the world or our Father makes clear to us this isn't His will for our lives. Either way, your love and support mean the world to us.

I never started this blog to make people happy. I know I've ruffled some feathers. I have prayed over every post and written from the heart. Life is messy. It can't be contained in a perfect box or painted exactly between the lines. We don't live this life to honor man, but to honor the One who made us. Honestly, His is the only opinion we care about. I am so thankful for the sin he revealed and the grace he bestowed. There is now no condemnation because I am IN HIM. I'm fixing my eyes on Jesus and moving forward in faith. The road ahead is wreathed in fog of unknown, but above the inversion the air is clear, the sky sparkling and golden and my Beloved is waiting.

All is grace,
Carie

1000 Gifts...And counting

Almost two years ago I began reading One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. I friend of mine recommended the book and since she has great taste (thanks Francie!), I decided to check it out. Although I read just about anything I can get my hands on, I am not really into what I would call the "self-help" books - even the Christian ones. But I can honestly say there has never been any book - other than the Bible - that has as deeply and profoundly impacted my life as One Thousand Gifts. 

One Thousand Gifts is about Ann Voskamp's journey to discovering real joy and experiences with grace in the midst of the chaos, craziness and heartache of every day life. Her earliest memories in life are of witnessing the tragic death of her little sister at age four...later she struggled with severe anxiety, depression and cutting. Finally, a friend encouraged her to keep a journal and write down one thousand things she was thankful for - one thousand gifts. And it changed her life. 

Her book centers around the greek word eucharisteo which means to be grateful, feel thankful and give thanks. I have absolutely fallen in love with this word. It's like a little Russian nesting doll of meaning. Eucharisteo is comprised of two greek words, charis and chara. Charis is the greek word for grace but also contains the derivative (chara), meaning "joy". So eucharisteo, the giving of thanks, has grace and joy as its very roots. Eucharisteo is the key to joy. 

And who couldn't use more joy?

I'm a perfectionist. I love need lists. I like order. And rules. Plans. Thrive on met expectations and goals succeeded.

Mothering and wifery (if midwifery is a word, then wifery should totally be a legit word) are the last jobs that lend themselves to perfection, order and succeeded goals and expectations. Put simply, it can be hard to find joy, let alone the keys. Or snuggy-bear. Or sanity. 

There have been many times, especially since the arrival of kids, that I have found myself restless. And if you asked me why I was restless, I don't know that I could have given you an answer. It forever eluded me, like that extra hour of sleep on a Saturday morning. 

Maybe it's the lack of "me" time. Maybe its that today I feel ugly. Or unloveable. Or like I'm living someone else's life. That I should be, have been someone else. 

The answers would change with the moments, like a chameleon changing it's colors. 

But as I started reading about eucharisteo, things started to change. As I took up the challenge to become a seeker of grace, I started to really live. I began noticing things I hadn't before... 

Light playing across scratched eighty-year-old hardwood floors. 

That one long lock of hair falling just so across Sassy's face. 

Breezy lullaby blowing through wedding-gift chimes on my front porch. 

Exquisite luxurious long cool shower on hottest of summer days.

I began noticing grace. Gifted by the creator of Grace. The original source of Joy.

My heart began to awaken and unfurl, like the first crocuses of spring, stretching up stiffly through the hard frozen ground that had held it imprisoned for so long. And as my heart petals unfurled, I began to sense my great purpose...the meaning and joy and reason that had eluded for so long.

THIS. 

This is what I was made for.

This is why I am here. To seek grace wherever it may be found and to give thanks to the Great Giver, and in doing so to reap joy. 

Grace. 

Thanksgiving. 

Joy. 

These are Eucharisteo. 

What better time than now - this very moment - to begin your search for grace, to start giving thanks, to reap JOY? It's already built into this month for you. But instead of stuffing yourself with turkey and pie and Black Friday fillers of the soul, why not fill yourself to overflowing with thanks? Fill yourself full, then empty your cup into the lives of those around you and fill up some more?

If your life is dark and meaningless, the giving of thanks is a match lit upon the tinder of a joyful blaze. 

If your life is day after day after day...why not start noticing the little things that separate those days, making them memorable, making them count?

If your life is good, why settle for good when you could have great?

There is always more Grace. There is always more to be thankful for. There is always, always more Joy to be found my friend. 

And who couldn't use more JOY?

Sun's rise...that rises and rises and rises.

A hug.

Frozen sparkling tiny work of art. 

Tiny girl with big girl dreams.

First encounters.

Now you may say this is NOT grace. HECK NO.
But if you had been a fly on my wall and seen the spider-killing episode, you would have fallen on my crumb-strewn floor rolling with laughter, tears streaming, belly heaving - and would have certainly concluded the moment was so CHOCK FULL of grace you could hardly stand it. 

So PLEASE. 

Search for Grace. He is there. Waiting for you to notice. To give thanks. To enter into fullness of JOY.

I promise you,

All IS Grace,

Carie

One act of thanksgiving,

when things go wrong with us, 

is worth a thousand thanks when things

are agreeable to our inclinations.

Saint John of Avila