Here we go again...

I'm consistently blown away by God's intentionally personalized gifts of mercy. It's easier for me to grasp the bigger picture - the gift of the cross, waking up each day healthy and alive, the love and presence of my family. What I fail sometimes to look for are the creative out-of-the-box ways God chooses to remind me I am His and He is ever relentlessly pursuing me.

When we first started along this adoption road, we felt led to search for an African American sibling group, either a boy and a girl or two boys. Every once in a while, Ryan would look at me as we perused profiles and say, "You know. Every time I've ever thought of adopting, I've always thought of us adopting a white baby girl." I would kind of roll my eyes and remind him of my our plans and the direction we were heading, not to mention the small likelihood of us ever getting a caucasian female newborn without first going through an adoption agency.

It's not that I didn't want a caucasian baby girl - I'm happy with whatever God gives us. I've just always had this idea that we would be bringing our child home from either a third world country, or older siblings from a minority group in the states that are harder to place. 

Time and time again God has shown me that it doesn't matter what I want or think will happen - He's going to do what He wants. Apparently He doesn't need my help in the process. Slowly the plan has changed and evolved...from focus on International adoption, to adoption from foster care. From Interstate adoption to focusing on kids within our state's boundaries. From adoption from foster care to emergency placement and respite. From only sibling groups to individuals. From only boys around the age of 6 to any gender and any age under 7. 

I'm learning expectations are saboteurs of faith, but living arms wide open, expectant and ready allows God to write you into stories you couldn't possibly have dreamt up yourself.

Five days after my last post and two weeks after we told our caseworker we were open to pretty much anything, including infants, I got a call on a Sunday afternoon from a CPS worker. She mentioned she had talked to our caseworker who recommended our family as a perfect placement for the child she was advocating for. And the placement? 

A four week old caucasian baby girl. 

My heart nearly stopped.

I took a deep breath and said, "Yes, I would like to hear more." 

There wasn't much to tell. Baby girl was four weeks old and in a Spokane hospital scheduled to be discharged the next morning. Baby's mother was nineteen and living in Missoula with no known history of substance abuse, and could I please make this decision within the hour? 

I said I would need to talk to my husband but I could be fairly certain I knew what he would say. I immediately called Ryan and told him the news. 

*Silence*

Then: "You know what I'm going to say." "Yep." I replied. "Just needed to make sure." And with those words, our lives were flipped upside down for the second time.

Most people get ten months or more to get used to the idea of a newborn. I had less than twenty-four hours. By five the next evening I was holding the teeniest, scrunch-faced, tiny little girl I'd ever seen in person. She weighed a hair under seven pounds (two pounds less than my lightest baby at birth), had a pinched little face and eyes perpetually crossed and locked into an expression of shock...Like she still couldn't quite believe the road she'd already been on. She had toddler bite marks on both arms, a huge nasty scab on her nose and small puncture wounds on her scalp. She had been in Spokane for blunt force trauma and a small brain bleed. Other than her wounds, I knew practically nothing about this child, except for her name - and even that we didn't know how to pronounce correctly for almost a week.

The first few days were overwhelming, and as I recall them now, a bit fuzzy. It's hard when you can't decipher cries and your body isn't sending cues when it's time to feed the little one. She wasn't very hungry, eating only one to two ounces at a time. The first night she was up every two hours for feedings and would only fall asleep for naps the first couple days if I walked her in the Ergo. But moment by moment, hour by hour, feeding by feeding we started to adjust. 

LeyAna Grace (pronounced "Lay-Ahna") has now been with us for a month. She eats four or five ounces every three to four hours, has gained over two pounds and last night slept for a solid eight hours. (Proof that miracles do, indeed, still occur.) She will sleep just about anywhere, through just about anything - even the unwanted slobbery affections of a four month old golden. She is oh-so-close to smiling, her eyes clear and focusing correctly. Her wounds have healed and only a small w-shaped scar is left on her nose to remind us of her trauma. 

Even though tired, I've moved out of the walking-dead zone and come back to land of the living. Our schedule has settled into place and the kids are so great, jumping at chances to feed, hold or fetch. 

Twice a week I drop LeyAna off for a two-hour visit with her mother and a CPS worker returns her home. Each time Georgia asks "where her baby go?" and each time I say she will be home soon. Last week the judge ordered LeyAna to remain in foster care for at least six months while her mother works on a treatment plan. There is a lot of relief knowing that even though it may not be forever, we do have some time.

So, how are we doing? 

We are - all of us - emphatically, blissfully and completely in love. My love for Ryan has grown a thousand fold as I watch him pour himself into this little life. He is teaching me the meaning of selfless compassion and love. He tearfully nicknamed her "Heartbreaker" - because if she leaves she will be taking the little shreds of our hearts with her. This experience is as peaceful, sweet and healing as our last was anxious, heavy and traumatic. 

God is so good. He knew she needed us and we needed her. Loved ones have warned me against loving her too deeply or letting my mind go where our hearts desperately want to. But that's not how I was made and honestly I have never seen anywhere in the bible where it says to love partially or hold back. LeyAna has one hundred percent of my love and God has one hundred percent of my trust - either to bless us permanently with her snuggles or to heal our wounded hearts when we give her back. I trust Him with all of it. Our present. Her future. 

Resting on the waves of His sovereignty brings so much more peace than fighting for the future I can't change or do anything about. There is peace in the unknown. There is new life from brokenness and death. This is my prayer for our hearts and LeyAna's life...That the scarred places soften and yield to His new life and all the possibilities it contains.

All is grace (even her middle name),

Carie 

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

Rings of Fire

Photos provided by Bea Hufman Photography

I don't know where you are as you read this, but things have been downright apocalyptic here in the NorthWest with well over 100 wildfires burning in Washington, Oregon, Idaho and Montana. Some locals jokingly refer to our four seasons as hunting, skiing, fishing and fire...but even our usual "grin-and-bear-it" sense of humor is starting to run dry as we have been socked in with increasingly hazardous smokey skies for days on end.

One or two days, even a week of smoke is pretty usual this time of year, and generally bearable, but when it starts to spread over multiple weeks and the brilliant blue dog-days of summer become a distant dream, you can be sure that cabin fever, irritation, general impatience and malaise are sure to follow.

I've been thinking how much the weather has resembled my emotional state the last several weeks - and whether my soul is mimicking the smoke or it is just a coincidence of timing - I find it a little ironic...

If you read my last post you know that we've been battling little fires of our own on all fronts...finances, relationships, uncertainty of the future, health, school - you name it, we've had a bit of it. Nothing major. Nothing catastrophic. But all those little fires sure produce a lot of spiritual smoke and it can be hard to see the big picture through the haze. 

In my struggle to give thanks in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 4:18), I decided I would try to find the good in the wildfires raging across the land and what I gleaned has some amazing spiritual applications as well...So stick with me for a minute, it will all make sense in the end.


Wildfires 101

Wildfires are "powerful change agents that shape ecosystems. The specific pattern of fire - including how frequently it burns, how hot it burns, and during which season—helps dictate the types of plants and animals found in a given area." (www.nature.org) They have four major benefits:

1. Encouragement of new plant growth
Wildfires are a necessary contributor to habitat vitality and renewal. Many plant species in naturally fire-affected environments require fire to germinate, establish or reproduce. (wikipedia.org)

2. Creation of more space
Periodic fires can open up sections of the forest canopy, creating an opening for smaller plants that need lots of sunlight to grow; this stimulates diversity in the forest ecosystem.
(Discovery Education)

3. Forest management
By burning forest litter, fires release nutrients present in forest litter that would otherwise decompose very slowly and not be as readily available for the benefit of plants and wildlife. They also reduce the number of pathogens and insects that could cause longterm harm to the ecosystem.
(Discovery Education)

4. Ecological revitalization
Fire suppression can lead to the build-up of flammable debris and the creation of less frequent but much larger more destructive wildfires.
(wikipedia.org)

-----------------------------------

There you have it.

If you weren't bored to tears with the unexpected natural science lecture, maybe you were able to catch as I did how amazingly these natural phenomenon mirror seasons of fire in our own lives. I noticed four major correlations to our spiritual seasons of renewing:

1. Encouragement of new spiritual growth

When we feel like our lives are under fire, maybe our perspective needs to change. Even though it goes against our natural grain, the bible tells us to count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. (James 1:2-4, ESV) The new growth - steadfastness - does not come without the trials, or fires, of life.

2. Creation of more space

Maybe I'm the only one, but my life is crazy. You'd think as a stay-at-home mom that maybe it'd be a little more sane than if I were running kids to a million activities or trying to get to work everyday, but even if my days on the outside seem rather tame, my mind is a veritable wasp nest of thoughts, plans and emotions. 

When all the little fires pile up, it can be really hard to get any real grasp on reality or sense of direction. But I've been finding that they are giving me an opportunity to lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely so I can run with endurance the race that is set before me. (Hebrews 12:1)

When all the craziness and struggles crowd close, the light of the fires reveal my true self. My true character, strengths and failings. When rubber meets the road and my back is up against a wall all the imperfections and hidden angst come boiling out and I come face-to-face with the hidden realities that are holding me back in my walk with Christ. My exhaustion and fear give way to anger, impatience, jealousy, cattiness and selfishness. It is not pretty my friends - but the renewing work of the Holy Spirit burns away the spiritual litter and creates space in my soul for God to work. 

It also gives me a chance to simplify and throw off weights that are holding me back and weighing me down. Weight isn't necessarily a bad thing - but too much of a good thing can be a bad thing, and it's times like this that I need to reduce my commitments and the things that are getting in the way of me becoming who God has for me to be. Busyness doesn't always equal righteousness.

Along with the creation of space is...

3. Spiritual management

Creating space in my soul requires the removal of spiritual garbage so it can flourish and add new growth. These icky parts of me that float to the surface when under pressure do so in order for the Spirit to skim off the filth and replace it with the fruits and holiness he offers. Spiritual scrubbing is not comfortable, but the soft tender heart it reveals is worth the pain. 

Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along with all malice. Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:31-32

And finally,

4. Spiritual revitalization and regrowth

Without pruning, flowering plants cannot reach their full fruitful potential. These hard seasons, these testing of the faith and dark valleys are pruning what is temporary and producing in me the fruits that will last...love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. (Galatians 5:22) Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. (John 15:2) When God cuts away the dead areas of my life, it is for my benefit. I'd rather have the pain of pruning and renewal than the permanency of spiritual death and destruction.

So all this smoke?

Yes, it's uncomfortable. It limits my vision, makes me feel claustrophobic and a bit panicky. There are moments when it feels a little difficult to breathe. Too much is bad for my health, but it is these seasons of trial and uncertainty and haze that force me to PRESS IN, and PRESS ON. Instead of worrying about everything and solving nothing, I am looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of {my} faith. The moments of pruning seem painful, but I have faith that later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it. (Hebrews 12:2,11) 

I know above all this haze, the Son is still shining.

Hang in there dear ones. Brighter days are a comin'.

All is grace, 

Carie

P.S.  Two hours after I finished drafting this post it rained and today dawned bright with puffy clouds and sunshine! Here's hoping we've seen the last of the hazey days...For this year at least. 

Feeling foolish...

I knew this journey was going to be hard.

When we met with some dear friends who are older, wiser and done this twice before, they warned us to watch for attacks and discouragement. That adoption is so close to God's heart, of course it is one of the prime targets for the Enemy.

In my fervor and excitement to "tally-ho" into the land of obedience and adventure, my head nodded solemnly, but my heart cried out in it's best Braveheart voice "Bring it on! Do you worst, and see how my God has the battle already won!"

But in my enthusiasm, I forgot the enemy is sneaky, backhanded and rarely stands up and fights like a man. The guerrilla warfare my heart has experienced in the last couple weeks has been nothing short of gnarly, to say the least, and in my weaker moments has released a whole host of emotions ranging from doubt to anger, resentment, impatience, frustration and loneliness.

There have been attacks in our marriage, attacks physically in the health of older family members, attacks on our hope with closed doors, stress in our finances, tensions and worries in close relationships...and at times we have felt that people perceive this journey as risky and foolish.

I'm beginning to empathize a whole lot more with Joshua and Caleb.

God told the Israelites to enter courageously into the land of Canaan, claim it for His kingdom and reap the benefits of obedience and faith by enjoying the fruits of a land "flowing with milk and honey." So twelve pillars of their society marched off bravely into the unknown, only to return with horror stories of giants in the land and fortified cities. Oh sure, they saw the remarkable fruits ripe for the taking, but their focus could only fall back on the tremendous obstacles in their way. Only two of the twelve came back excited and confident. "Let's go now!" they said. "God is for us! Who can be against us?" But the elders and people couldn't see past the wall of doubt and fear the other ten built with each passing word.

I'm sure the Israelites looked at Joshua and Caleb and were thinking "How foolish. Can't they see the risks? Don't they know what could happen? Aren't they worried about the children?!"

And all Joshua could think was "How foolish. Can't they see the rewards? Don't they know how BIG their God is? Don't they remember the battle has already been won?!"

I relate Josh...I really do.

I know the lack of support totally bummed Josh and Caleb out. They fell on the ground, tearing their clothes and wept in their distress. Frankly, I've felt like doing some of the same. Not out of self-pity and a sense of "woe is me"...But out of sadness at what so many are missing out on. The risk in the adventure is more than worth the reward of whole-hearted, sold-out and complete-abandoned devotion to the call the Father places on our hearts.

My heart breaks for what the Church is missing out on. I wish I could single handedly shatter the apathy and ladel out buckets of Faith to everybody. I wish I could put into words the joy and growth and peace that come from letting go of perceived life-lines and just letting the waves of God's will carry me wherever His sovereignty leads. And while there are times I feel I could drown - those are always in the moments where I've looked away from the One who is carrying me in the first place. Each return of my gaze to His heart results in roots buried deeper in the confidence of His love and His plan.

I'm bummed about the adventures and growth the body of Christ is missing out on and I'm bummed the world is missing out on learning what "body of Christ" really means. People stepping out in faith together and for each other. Accepting His call for the individual with the same faith and fervor they accept their own. Rather than dwelling on details and "what ifs", stepping up and saying "How can I help? You're not alone. Let's do this together." The body of Christ moving as one body sure would be a beautiful thing to behold indeed.

Are we foolish?

You betcha.

But the foolishness of God will always be wiser than the wisdom of man, and the weakness of God will always be stronger than the strength of men.  (1 Corinthians 1:25 paraphrase)

If only the Church could be foolish together.

Still believing that
ALL is Grace,

Carie

I'm in love with children I haven't met {yet}

Photography provided by Bea Hufman Photography

Five on Ash becomes SEVEN.

I promised myself when I started this blog that it would never be something I forced to happen, and that I would never create posts just to add posts. I want this to be a genuine place, where the words that are written flow from a place of honesty and not contrived emotion. And so I have been content to be silent for a while, busy with life and kids and mommy-wife-hood and ministry...But during the last several months, some big changes have slowly been working their way to the surface as God gently guides the circumstances of our life into a new mold, a new direction that would have been uncomfortable and a poor fit even a year ago. Now these changes seem natural and just - right -  somehow.

I love how God works.

We have decided to adopt - and not just one, but two! And rather than repeat myself, I'll just post the link to our adoption page.

I have always wanted to adopt...ever since I was a little girl and heard stories of babies being thrown out with the trash in China, a little part of my heart has always held onto the dream of holding a child that was not of my blood but grafted into my heart. I love it so much because I can identify. Christ shed his blood and grafted me into his family. Adoption is at the very heart of his heart, the essence of the gospel and the motivation behind commissioning his children to "go into the world and preach the good news" that ALL are loved. All are wanted. All are precious. All are worth it. All are beautiful and desired.

A friend of mine gave me a book after we had decided to adopt called Adoption by Russell Moore. I personally feel that all bibles should have this added in the introduction, because as believers we are all called to support the widow and orphan in their distress. And for American believers in the top percentage of all the worlds wealth, too often we just throw money at the "problem" and call it good.

But Jesus never threw money at anybody. He got down on his knees in the mud and the muck and entered into their pain and hurt. He threw himself at the problem. He gave his heart, his attention and his love. Money serves its purposes, but when it comes to the orphan, the widow, the foster child, the lowest of the low, the Church - Christ's hands and feet - should be jumping in and giving so much more than just their dollars...We should be giving our hearts, our attention and our love.

I love the preface for Adoption...

What it would mean if our churches and families were known as the people who adopt babies - and toddlers, and children, and teenagers. What if we as Christians were known, once again, as the people who take in orphans, and make of them beloved sons and daughters?

Not everyone is called to adopt. No one wants parents who adopt children out of the same sense of duty with which they may give to the building fund for the new church gymnasium. But all of us have a stake in the adoption issue, because Jesus does. He is the one who tells us his Father is also the "Father of the fatherless" (Ps. 68:5). He is the One who insists on calling "the least of these" his brothers (Matt 25:40), and who tells us that the first time we hear his voice he will be asking us if we did the same.

I don't know why, in the mystery of God's plan, you were led to pick up this booklet. But, I know this. You have a stake in the adoption issue - even if you never adopt a child. There's a war going on around you - and perhaps within you - and adoption is one crucial arena of that war. With that in mind, perhaps there are some changes to be made in our lives. For some of us, I hope this book changes the makeup of our households. For some of us, I hope it helps change our monthly bank account balances. For all of us, I hope it changes something of the way we say "brother" and "sister" in our pews next Sunday, and the way we cry out "Father" on our knees tonight...

If the concept of adoption, foster care, respite care, emergency care, orphan prevention - any of it - sparks even a mustard seed of inkling in your spirit, than I challenge you to simply ask God this question:

What is your plan for me in this issue? 

If you are even a tiny bit interested, then start reading books on the subject (I would start here and here and here), pray for an open heart and for the faith to trust God to move mountains...And be prepared to have your heart blown wide open.

All is grace,
Carie

"I see you"

Do you feel alone?

Maybe you have a whole gaggle of friends. Maybe you're involved in ministry. Maybe you have a wonderful husband and adorable kids. Maybe you work in the marketplace or work at home...are constantly surrounded by people, events and noise - but still feel lonelier than if isolated on a forsaken mountain top.

Maybe you go to a woman's group and learn about this great God, share prayer requests and answer questions, read books and catch up on gossip, but leave with soul still hunched in its corner, aching and wounded, wondering if it was really seen. Really heard.

The longer I live, the more and more I am realizing that while life has its beauties and glories and wonderful moments, there is also pain, ache and chronic struggle. And the thing about these struggles is they are so often internal. These battles occur not out on a field in broad daylight with the flash of muzzle and cannon, but in the dark, secret padded rooms of the mind where no one can hear you scream.

And this world - this "American Dream" leaves us grasping and hoping and groping for perfection, the glossy joy that should emboss the pages of our Martha Stewart magazine modeled life. We wonder what is wrong with us that we should still struggle with that sin, feel the slightest rejection so deeply, or at the very least not be completely Brady-Bunched out over our lovely homes, working cars, food, clothing and 2.1 children. We wonder why oh why we still feel so alone?

My friends - may I submit to you that the American Dream is in fact, just that - a dream. This world is a smoke screen for the deeper things. Things the Great Deceiver would have you never see, never experience...

Like the awesome power of a Holy Spirit moment blazing through your soul.

Like the liberation of exposing long locked-away secrets to the cleansing truth of His purifying light.

Like the deeper issue than your struggle with weight, or lust, or anger, or willful child, or disinterested husband.

There is a struggle y'all. But it is much more than just a "struggle". What you may see as pithy is actually an epic battle being fought on the bloody soil of your soul and it is Lord-of-the-Rings-meets-Star-Wars-and-Hunger-Games huge.

And that "great" Deceiver - you know what his ultimate weapon is? Subversion. Secrecy. That darn wolf will separate you from the herd and make you feel like you are the only one. THE ONLY ONE dealing with your struggle. Then he'll convince you the epic battle in the heavenlies is only in your head, that its your fault you struggle. That no one will care and no one will see.

And that, dear heart, is bull hockey at its finest.

Because you are not alone.
Never have been.
Never will be.

The One who made the galaxies and gentle breathing of the little one resting in your arms is the gallant knight who became a little one so you could rest in His arms. He is mighty to save, brighter than the deepest darkness yet ever ever so gentle. And He is pleading for you to remove the God-cancelling headphones from your ears to hear Him screaming: "I. SEE. YOU!!"

And as He is holding and healing He asks you to open your eyes to the hurting around you. Every person on this planet has a story. Every person on this planet has a pain. We've just gotten so good at hiding them that it seems "normal" and "attainable" to have a happy care-free life. That is not the goal dear ones. Perfection in this world is a pipe dream. And while that may seem drab and kind of a buzz-kill, it is the truth. But if you love the Lord and have His Spirit, then perfection is already in you. You have Healing Balm, Elixir of Life that could save the soul of the person next to you. Your Word could be encouragement that gives a girl hope, helps that man take the next step. Your hand could gently lead someone from darkness into light.

Maybe that's all true, Carie - you say. But will anyone even care about me and what I'm facing? Everyone else seems to have it together! 

That right there is exactly what the devil would have you believe - that your story doesn't matter...

What if we all took a leap of faith and tore down our soul-walls? What if we opened the doors and let others in and by letting others in, let in LIGHT? God sees and cares - and wants us to be a people who SEE and CARE. 

Let's acknowledge the difficulty and raw grittiness of our struggles and then hand them over to God to deal with! When we are not looking so intently at ourselves we have the time and ability to see the struggle and battles happening in those around us. What if by sharing our stories with each other it led to our healing?

I am praying for you to have eyes to see that
All is Grace...and that you're not in this alone.

Your battles matter - they could very well be the key to winning The War.

Carie