Giving up my Sanity

As the season of Lent is upon us, I feel very unprepared for it. This is the third year now that I've been in a church that talks about and celebrates Lent in a very meaningful way, and I've had the desire to participate the last two years. But this year I am worn down. This year I don't know what else I have to give.

I considered the big one--social media--again this year. I did that two years ago, and it was a great time of growing and dwelling with Jesus for me. But I quickly decided against it. With the adoption and hosting looming, Facebook is the only way I have to stay in touch with people who have become my "family" in all of this. No, this year, social media will stay in my life.

I thought about giving up some sort of food or fasting for a few days. I may still do that. One meal or even one whole day a week certainly wouldn't hurt me right now. But I tried a few weeks ago to start a new program by Beachbody, and I failed miserably. Just not my time right now with the busyness and stress in my life.

This morning I felt like God was saying, "I've asked you to give up, and you have. I asked you to be willing, and you have. You've given up time, money, emotion, and sanity!" That's what I want.

The past few days I've waffled between so many emotions. From excitement to questioning, from being sure that this is what we should do to wondering why I ever got into this. This is hard stuff. We want to give her a home. We want to love her and show her the love of a family that she's never known. And yet, she's never met us. She has to choose to come live with a family she's never met. Will she want to come to America, to freedom, to a better life so much that she's willing to trust these strangers--who will have just written her a few letters, sent a few pictures and tried to invest into her life from thousands of miles away? Not even to mention the fact that the country she is in is in political upheaval and could go to war any day. The news reports change every day. The country could be shut down. The airspace could be closed. Anything could happen.

It's crazy. It's reckless. And it certainly doesn't make sense.

I keep hearing in my head and in my heart,

"I never said it was going to be easy. I never said the Christian life was safe. I never said to make sure you had everything planned out for the future. I said to be willing. I said people were going to hate you and think you're crazy. I said it would be difficult. I said, "Deny yourself. Take up your cross, and follow me."

And so with that, with those words, I move forward. I keep running the race. I get one, two, three steps closer to finishing this home study to moving onto the next step. All the while, I question. All the while, I wonder, "How do I continue to give all of myself--time, money, energy, emotion--and still guard my heart so that it doesn't break in the end if she says, "no"? The answer is, "I don't."That's the conclusion I've come to. I can't. I can't give it all and still guard my heart. My heart will break if she says, "no."

And so I move forward with hope. I move forward trusting that the God who has called us this far will not leave us. I move forward with faith that he holds true to his promises that he has "a plan and a future" for us, and it is good. And I move forward with the knowledge that yes, my heart might be broken. She may say "no." We may lose a lot because of this. But I know with every fiber of my being that this is the road I'm supposed to be on. This is exactly where God wants me this Lent season.

Giving up my sanity.