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

This is not the end (even though it feels like it)

I've been struggling for days now whether or not to write a post about our last couple weeks. It's never easy to open up to the world, even more so when you barely want to open up to yourself or rehash things that hurt your heart. It's easier just to push them away, filed in a box, ready to move on and forget.

But I can't - and won't - do that.

I always promised myself my blog would be a place of Truth and would proclaim what is Real. If my words are to matter, they must be willing to go through darkness into tough places. Life is full enough of polished over-hyped photo-shopped mirage-perfection. We've lost our ability to fully enter into and even embrace the hard-not-so-pretty things. It's too uncomfortable, no warm-fuzzies here. I'm learning more and more its in these darker seasons of life that His light shines brightest. Glint of beauty shines brightest from muck and mire.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Almost two weeks ago we opened our home to two precious adventurous oh-so beautiful boys.
Six days ago we said tearful goodbyes.
The seven days in between were easily some of the darkest, hardest and most searingly painful of my entire life...To fully explain why I feel I need to back up a bit.

My emotions have always been the horse pulling the cart. As a child I would get chastised by my analytical father for making decisions based on my heart and not my head. This character trait is both weakness and strength.

I am, and have always been, "all or nothing." Ask my husband - who will wincingly tell you how every time I set my heart on a new hobby or task I quickly buy multiple books on the subject. Spend hours planning and researching. I've never had much of a problem with the whole "wherever you are, be there with all your heart" scenario. I love deeply, fight passionately, cheer fanatically and grieve fiercely.

So when two sweet little boys entered through our front door, my heart fell head-over heels, love-at-first-sight, passionately-in-love. As usual, my mind jumped from "A" (welcoming them across the threshold) to "Z" (visions of holding sweet grand babies with their beautiful hazel eyes). I was all in.

Which made the next week the most beautiful heart-wrenching I've ever been through.

This was our first time fostering, and it doesn't matter how many books you read on the subject, or how many people you talk to - nothing prepares you for the real deal. As I sit and think about last week, my heart still feels like its in a bit of a coma, still suffering a little PTSD.

The boys came with 7 large bags, 3 bikes, 1 pogo-stick, 1 skateboard, 3 boxes, 2 large tubs and 2 backpacks full of physical and emotional baggage. It was unceremoniously dropped on my living room floor and my heart was completely blindsided by the amount of physical, emotional, mental and spiritual energy that would be required to deal with it. Compound that with 2 adults and 5 children - two of whom have more energy than a small nuclear power plant - crammed into less than a thousand square feet, and my (slightly) obsessive compulsive personality...it was a recipe for a meltdown of nuclear proportions. I spent more hours flat on my face sobbing and seeking God's face than I had in multiple years. For me each day grew darker and scarier than the last.

For years in our early marriage I struggled with panic attacks. Once I discovered they were due to anxiety and not a hereditary heart condition, they lessoned considerably and have not been an issue since. Within hours of the boys moving in, they returned and in greater severity than ever before. Where they once only attacked at night, I now lived in a constant state of deep underlying tension and fear. I could barely breathe.

What really worried me was I knew my fears logically seemed unfounded. They kids actually got along really well! Haven and Irvin were two peas in a pod. He followed her around like a lost puppy and she willingly gave him all the snuggles and giggles he could hold. Jessey and James played energetically from after school until bedtime. We all were falling quickly in love.

But so many things piled up like pieces of proverbial straw, threatening to bend and break me...

Small house shrunk by noise, belongings and chaos to the size of prison cell.
Constant clamoring for time and attention I didn't have to give.
Zero time to spend on homeschool with James.
Jessey's constant fits over the smallest things.
Brothers feeding off negative energy and quickly escalating into small tornadoes of emotional destruction.
Breaking up exponentially compounding little arguments.
Watching my children getting hurt emotionally and at times physically by the brother's lack of self-control.
James beginning to weigh heavy with the roll of big-brother and overseer to two littles who just wouldn't listen and could be bipolar with their affection.

I quickly realized that while we thought we were waltzing merrily down the somewhat difficult long road of adoption - we had actually been thrown into the foxholes of the Reactive Attachment Disorder war...and it was one for which we had not trained, nor had the skills to deal with.

Reactive Attachment Disorder is ugly and very abusive. The swings from "I love you" to "I hate you" are quick, constant and come from nowhere. The child cannot help this behavior. It comes from the dark places of neglect and abandonment in their past...and only lots of time, lots of therapy and a tenacious love on the part of a caregiver can help break through the cycle.

Maybe the outcome would have been different if the panic attacks hadn't played a role, but I had seen first-hand in family members how quickly they can escalate, becoming mind controlling, something only medication can begin to handle. I desperately didn't want to go there.

And so, after much prayer and discussion with their social-worker - who is also a believer - we made the agonizingly difficult decision to let the boys go. We talked about possible solutions to lesson my load - putting Irvin in daycare, taking it week by week. But in the end their worker felt removal was the best option. She informed us that RAD always gets much worse before it gets better - and that it can take months to see results. Since we didn't know if my attacks were going to go away, we didn't want to be faced with a situation where we were completely fed up and calling her to "come get them now." Wanting to preserve the good relationship we already had with the boys, she felt removing them to the children's shelter would give them a shot at a long-term loving relationship with us that could help buffer them through transitions to come. The children's shelter is usually full, especially around the holidays. They had an opening for both boys to stay together, which would not be a guarantee in the months to come and the last thing anyone wanted was for the boys to be split up.

Seven days after they arrived, we loaded up their bags and dropped them off at the shelter. The 48 hours that followed were filled with lots of tears, grief and wondering if we had done the right thing. Any of it.

This is the conclusion I've come to:

I would do it all over again, in a heartbeat.

Where I went wrong was in jumping from A to Z and not just taking each day at a time. Should I have loved them? Absolutely. But I shouldn't have let my love for them allow my feelings to makes decisions the Lord hadn't guided us into yet. The outcome would have been the same, but my heart would have been better guarded.

We were never called to fix them. We were never called to keep them forever. When we got that phone call a month ago, it was for a family to house and love two little boys whose only other alternative was to be dropped at a shelter. And we did that. We loved and hugged and kissed and read-to and prayed with and snuggled the stuffing out of those little guys. For a week they knew family. They knew safety. They knew Love modeled and preached.

I've been realizing they gained a whole lot more than they lost. We all did.

They now have a family who is praying daily for them. Who sends them pictures and calls them twice a week and visits whenever they get the chance. Our journey with them didn't stop when they left our home. Just because we aren't adopting them with paperwork does not mean we have not adopted them in our hearts...and even though they aren't in our home, they are ours. Our boys. They got to learn about the God who made them and left with a book of bible stories that were read to them every night. They learned what prayer is and wouldn't let us leave the room at night without it. Our prayer is that over time they will learn that there are all types of love and that even though they don't wear our name, they still belong.

We learned so much from them. We thought we knew what patience, grace and forgiveness looked like...until they came and taught us the nitty-gritty of those words. We were introduced firsthand to the product of neglect and abandonment and it has lit a fire in our hearts to spread awareness and support those brave soldiers who face this battle day in and day out.

I don't know what the future holds for us in the realm of adoption and foster care - I'm not even going to hazard a guess. I've learned my lesson. I know we need some time to heal and reassess where we stand. But I do know we are still called to love. We are still called to obedience. We are still called to the dark hard places because that's where Grace is found and His light shines brightest. I am so very thankful for the last few weeks and look to our future with great expectancy - for HE is there.

All is still Grace,
Carie

Five becoming Seven

There are moments in time I can distinctly remember, almost like yesterday, where time slows and a window to heaven opens up, giving a glimpse of God's bigger picture outside this finite world...

- Like the moment I first saw my husband.
- The moment he told me he liked me and I knew without a doubt this was the man I was going to marry.
- Sitting in church six months ago watching the Ugandan children's choir knowing that we were going to adopt.

And...
- Yesterday, when four little feet got out of a car and my kids and husband met them on the sidewalk, hands outstretched, big smiles on faces. I hid inside, praying, taking it all in from our toy room window. The sun came from behind the clouds that had hid it all day and smiled golden on them all - time frozen. And my heart, like Dr. Suess's Grinch, "grew two sizes that day", growing to encompass these sweet little lives that had just stepped shyly into mine.

Time will tell if it was a premonition of the forever family to come, but I am hopeful - oh so hopeful. As I watched three little boys, with three little guns running around my backyard, all three with beautiful smiles and giggles bouncing off neighboring walls, all I could think was, "This. This is why we step into hard places. This is why we pray on our knees long nights. This is why we sacrifice. For this."

I wish I could post a picture that Lindsey, their social worker, took of all five of them. Standing on benches, holding fall apples, eyes glowing, smiles grinning juicy grins. Three that look like clones of each other and Ryan and I. Two with slightly olive skin, short hair the same dishwater blonde as the others. Almond shaped eyes the color of wheat, and copper and fall leaves. Big cheeks and mischievous goofy grins. 

I am so thankful for the few hours we had yesterday. For the sun that came out and shone down on 5 little rascals scampering like squirrels in our backyard. For the snapshots I will always carry, regardless of the outcome...Ryan pushing Jessey tilty-twirly on the swing, his laughter echoing...Irvin hitting balls off our tee while Haven retrieved...Jessey chasing James, finally catching and rolling, laughing and content, around in leaves...

Yesterday was a good day. 

I know they won't all be like this. Big changes are ahead. And change, even good change, brings loss. We will need much patience, much grace, much love and forgiveness, empathy and compassion. But it will be worth it, because LOVE is always worth it.

The kids are already counting the days until Saturday, when they get to see the boys again. 

Thank you for your prayers yesterday. God was so gracious.

Keep praying - we have a long journey ahead.

All is Grace,
Carie

And for your eye-candy pleasure, here are some pics from a recent trip to Glacier National Park...

 

We're officially "official"!

It's hard to believe we are at this point, but we are officially licensed to adopt and/or provide emergency or respite foster care! There are so many unknowns and uncertainties, but we are fully confident that we are exactly where He wants us to be....And honestly, I'm beginning to embrace the unknown more each day, because it's there I am fully dependent and relying on God. When I choose to do things in my own strength or finite wisdom, its only a matter of time before I am burned out or bummed out and back in His arms of Grace.

Continue to pray for us as we begin this new stretch of our journey...

Here's our latest update:

{Adoption Udpate}

And if you don't mind, please consider passing our story on? Each dollar brings us closer to helping two kiddos find their forever family...And the joy received in joining with our cause will far exceed the sacrifice of giving.

All is Grace,

Carie

God is so so good

Just a quick post before we head out for the holiday weekend, but I just had to share this:

So if you read my last post and were struck by the gorgeous smokey pictures, they are now haunting me for a whole new glorious reason...

In the very same moments I was penning my thoughts on the trials of life and triumph of Christ, my dear dear friend who has been through her own deep valleys and come out with amazing testimonies of God's grace and glory was painting THIS on her bedroom wall.......

{chills upon glorious chills}

Here's a recap of the pics I posted:

The symbolism and beauty take my breath away. I mean - how freaking AMAZING is God!? I didn't even take these pictures. Like a master conductor He orchestrated my friend Bea into place at these exact scenes at these exact moments to snap the pictures. He led me to be lazy (haha) and not take my own pictures but beg them off of Bea. 

And THEN. 

Then. 

Hundreds of miles away, my best friend was using her God-given talent for putting emotions down with paint to create a mural on her bedroom wall. She hadn't even seen my post...God KNEW how much this would encourage and link the both of us and in His awesome grace I pray He uses it again to bless YOU. 

Take a moment and revel, dear reader.

His timing is perfect. 

His resources limitless. 

His glory infinite. 

His love and concern for even the smallest of moments: mind-blowing. 

If this doesn't reaffirm in your heart how much He is in the details...

Ask Him for eyes to see.  

With great love shouting that 

THIS 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