"Do the next thing." ~Elisabeth Elliott

My phone rang today. For the second time this month, I heard the voice of a social worker say, “I wish I had good news, but I don’t. I have some pretty bad news.”

I laid on my bed while tiny hands knocked and called for me. All I could think was: I want to be done. I am weary. I am weary of advocating my heart out and it not yielding the results I felt we needed. I am weary of those who do not know me and do not know my children choosing power and policy over common sense and compassion, making life-changing decisions for us and then stepping back, leaving us to pick up the handfuls of shattered pieces that may never be fully mended. I am weary—broken really—as I watch the children in and out my home—children who are priceless masterpieces of humanity—become numbers to be added or subtracted and boxes to be checked. A large piece of me wants to run. I want to hide from the weight of what God has called me to. I want to step into the safety of predictably and naivety. I want to turn my back to the inhumanity of some of the policies that are in place and give myself permission to throw my hands up and declare there is nothing that can be done. 

Fast forward a couple hours: My husband and I were silently sitting on the living room floor. We both felt the weight of a rough week and the brokenness of the world on our shoulders as we went through the motions of giving meds, feeding our tubies, and changing diapers. In the room with us was one freshly bathed sweetie, dressed in her very favorite cupcake nightgown. She was wearing construction goggles (upside down) hammering the walls proudly declaring she was a worker girl. Through a nearby doorway, another darling spun circles in the kitchen, her nightgown billowing as she stared her favorite stuffed dinosaur in the eyes and giggled hysterically. In almost the same moment, Silas and I caught each other’s eyes soaking in the girls and said, “It’s so simple, isn’t it?” 

These girls have not been spared from the world’s brokenness. Not in the least. Trauma has certainly left marks on them in so many ways. But at the same time, they break away from that burden, picking up nothing but the simplicity of being a child and doing the next thing before them. They know the world isn’t safe, and yet they carry on in precious love, joy, and trust. When they meet a crisis, they lean into it. They cry, they regress, they ache because it is so wrong and it hurt. But they rise again. When joy comes, they are all in, claiming the peace and delight that is theirs. So much of the time, it isn’t a clear-cut line, but a clumsy and beautiful dance within brokenness and beauty. 

It really is so simple. God isn’t asking me (or YOU) to fix the world, the system, or even one child. He doesn’t even ask us to fix ourselves. He simply asks us to do the next thing. Today, I will be sad for the brokenness around me. It is where I am. But come tomorrow, I will do the next thing. I will seek God’s guidance and step big when he tells me to go and rest when he tells me to be still. I will roar when He leads me into battle and I will sit on the sidelines when He asks me to trust what I can’t see. How thankful I am to trust in such a mighty, wise, loving God. How thankful I am I can trust Him to be all those things and more while He calls me to a simplicity that changes the world. He is so good. 

I know the chaos and heartache of foster care can seem like too much to take on. I know it must be so easy to say, “I could never do that!” and carry on. But please do not let the brokenness of the world and the system drive you away. Do not fear the pain and the loss. Instead, be afraid of sitting still and not doing the next thing God has called you to. You don’t have to be enough. You don’t have to be fearless or free from pain or flaw. Just simply ask…seek His will and do the next thing, whether that be in foster care of a different area completely. 

The War Within

We live in a world where happiness tends to be the goal we naturally strive and long for. A parent’s life-long wish for their child is almost always: “I just want you to be happy.” The problem is, this world we live in is deeply and terribly broken. Even with as much happiness as floods my small world, I find that the brokenness never fails to leak into my happiness--not distracting from the beauty of what I am experiencing, but adding an opposing tsumani of feeling and passion. I snuggle my daughter and as my heart overflows, it also weeps for the mother who walked out of the hospital without her little girl. I delight in the healing of my foster daughter, but I ache for the children we saw who will never know that miracle. I lean into a season of slower paces and less new foster care placements, but my heart screams for the children who have no home. I take in the warmth of my bed and a piece of me cries out for the refugees sleeping on the ground alone, far from the home they’ve never known. I thank God for a new friend and hurt for the friendless. I delight in the truth of my salvation and purpose and yet cry thousands of tears for those who will never know hope. I can’t escape it. I’ve always been this way, from the time I remember having conscious thoughts. I am filled with joy, but I am so brokenhearted. Year after year has gone by and I have waited for the time when I am only filled with joy…when all I know is hope…when I can shake this endless nagging in my soul that screams, “It’s not fair!” I’ve been labeled over the years as discontent, overly emotionally, or in need of treatment for depression. For so long, I viewed this war within as my greatest flaw. Recently, I have begun to see my inability to disconnect from the world’s pain as my greatest gift—as ALL of our greatest gifts. While it is probably far more comfortable to seek only contentment and happiness, not only is it unrealistic (we will all experience heartache) but it cripples our passion and drive to be the difference—to be love, to be compassion, to be change, to be like Jesus. What a different world we would live in if we could feel what our neighbor feels and DO something about it.

So today, I will snuggle my babies, hold them tight, laugh, and cherish them. I will also cry and ache so deep for the family who lost their three-year-old last night. I will be thankful for our yummy meals and I will also teach my children that not all people are lucky enough to have the food they do. I will rest in my husband’s arms, soaking up the safety and I will hurt for every person who has had every ounce of their safety and trust shredded. I will be thankful for routine and I will pray for God to mix that routine up by allowing us to bring another child into our home and opening doors for us to advocate and raise up more foster parents. I will sleep in a warm bed and research ways to support refugees. I will exercise and play on the floor with my children and feel sorrow for those whose bodies are too broken to rise from bed. I won’t try to make sense of it because I know that I can’t. It’s ok to acknowledge that it really is unfair. Most of all, I will keep learning to cling to Jesus and trust Him in this incomprehensibly beautiful joy and crushing, overwhelming heartache. He, more than any, knows the war within.

-Micah

Word of the Year 2018

It's that time of year again...and by year, I mean end of year...that time when I venture to the nearby coffee shop, reflect, write, surrender, and ask God to give me the word that He wants to use to shape the coming new year. 

I will acknowledge that reflecting on the last year was not the most uplifting of experiences, although the miracles it contained still steal my breath away. Unfortunately, in the last year, I spent less time making room for even more miracles and more time giving into the darkness of my own heart and mind. Last year's word(s) was: Faithfully Obey. Honestly, I spent the year doing the opposite of that. 2017 was a rough 365 days for this heart of mine. I often found myself gripped by jealousy, hopelessness, loneliness, entitlement, and all the kind of yuck that come along with those. Gross.

It's safe to say I have been more than ready for a fresh start and new defining word. I could just sense that my 2018 word would be epic....a word brimming with excitement, potential, and anticipation for an action-packed year ahead. 

This year's word is......(Drumroll please!)

Be. 

Be?! Seriously God?! Let me DO! I am a go-getting, chaos-thriving DOer!

I was gently reminded by my Father that I can do nothing until I choose to BE back in the presence of Him, the Almighty God who equips me. So first, I must be and only be. As I continued to listen to God's words to my heart, he added more meanings to the word be for me.

Be still. (yeah, yeah...I get it...)

But then, He also spoke the word be to me as an action:

"Micah, instead of waiting for Me to send you a friend, BE the friend.

Instead of waiting for a healed marriage and perfected husband, BE the wife I am shaping you to be.

Be the forgiver.

Be the voice for these children.

Be the encourager to everyone around you.
Be the mom I have called you to be.

Be the peacemaker.

Just be.

Stop waiting for the world to meet your needs and BE Me to the world."

I do look forward to the adventures that God will bring our way this year through daily life and circumstance. But more than that, I find myself looking forward to BEing with my Jesus....drawing near and learning once more who I am before Him, who He is, and how I can bring Him glory first and foremost. That, friends, is the greatest adventure I could ask for. 

Pre-Marriage Prayer

Father,

I sit here in awe of Your love for me. You are a giver of such good gifts and now you have given me the gift of a husband-to-be, of coming marriage. I never could have fathomed the beauty, pain, or blessing of Your plan. For years, I longed to glimpse this piece of Your beautiful plan for my life...and now I see. I see the intentions of the man who will be my husband. I see the integrity, honor, and character you have grown in him for 22 years. I see the way he loves me. I see his dimples, hear his laughter, and squeeze his hand. I see that Your plan for my life includes becoming one with an incredible man after Your own heart. I see....and yet I still see so little. You have done so much, and yet You have so much left to do! There is so much I still do not see....but for so long now, I have seen that You are good. Marriage will be such a leap of faith for me. It means I must continue becoming less and less. It means I must sacrifice myself and my desires more each day than the day before. It means I must admit failure, seek forgiveness, and forgive all the more. It means I have the terrifying honor of handing over my patched-together trust and fragile heart. I need You more than ever. Give us a marriage instead of just a wedding. In the times when we are drowning beneath the wave of demand for frills, dollar signs, and selfishness, lock our gaze on You. Grow us in the months to come more than ever before. May the outpouring of our hearts and attitudes before, during, and after this wedding brilliantly reflect You. Thank You, Father, for this amazing man I will call my husband. Thank you for being near and sustaining me through the years of painful waiting. Prepare me to be the woman of God who can complete this man in Your image. May the wonder and awe of this gift be only beginning and may it grow only greater for Your glory with time.   

Amen.

Mirror, Mirror

I awake on the ground. As my eyes slowly blink awake, I rise to my feet, brushing the hair out of my face and trying to make sense of where I am. From somewhere nearby, I hear a faint cry. This cry is unlike any I have heard before. This cry is calling me to action. As I take a few faltering steps, I am greeted by an image in front of me that comes into focus slowly. It's a girl. This girl seems to be no threat to me. She appears to be well put together. Her face is kind and greets me with a smile. I cannot tell if she is real or simply a figment of my imagination. However, the cry of a hurting heart is still ringing in the distance so I focus my attention on finding the source. I turn slowly to take in my other surroundings and begin my search for the one crying in anguish. There she is again. This time, the girl is still smiling but I see something hiding in her eyes...something so dark and so familiar, I turn quickly away. As I turn, I hear the cry grow louder. I try to look in the direction of the broken wail, but as my head jerks to the right, I see her yet again. This time, her smile has disintegrated into a jealous scowl and I know her eyes whisper the discontentment of comparison as she gazes cynically at those around her. I hear the cry again, laced with unbearable pain and seeming more desperate with every passing moment. I take a step forward and look to my left, seeking the face of this broken soul. But I cry out in frustration when I instead see the girl again. This time, her hair dances on the ground to rhythm of her sobs as she holds her head and weeps. All around her, blessings are blossoming one after the other, but she is far too consumed with the tiny weed of disappointment to breathe in the sweetness of her Creator's goodness. I angrily turn away, frustrated by the blindness of the woman before me. The cries of the stranger's pain are growing louder and I know that it is me they are calling! I must reach them, I must bring them news of healing and salvation! I close my eyes and run several steps before daring to open them again. With every step, the cries grow louder and my head is swimming with the horrendous pain of a breaking heart. I open my eyes and the same selfish girl is before me. All I want is to reach whoever it is who so desperately needs me, but everywhere I turn, this stubborn and insensitive girl blocks my view of the broken. I see her now and she is reaching her hand out to a desperate friend but I am not fooled for I see her heart. Though the grasp of her hand radiates the vibrant beacon of a servant, the darkness of her heart echoes with self-centered whines of seemingly wasted time and energy. A fist of anger clenches my middle as I spin in a frantic circle, seeking escape from the Pharisee before me. But everywhere I turn, I see her! I look up and I see her vanity, I look down and I see her loss of self-control, side-to-side, portraits unfold before me, splattered with her vicious words and failure to love selflessly. In desperation, I sink to the floor. I slap my hands over my ears to shut out her self-centered screeches and my eyes slam shut, guarding themselves from the piercing images of this young woman's self-centered soul. My breath comes and goes so quickly that the world spins. The sound of my pounding heart grows louder with each passing second. Slowly, ever so slowly, the rate of my breathing descends. I allow my arms to sink into my lap. I pause, waiting for the same blaring cries and whiny yelps to wash over me like a hurricane, but much to my relief, my ear drums are greeted by silence. I am not yet ready to open my eyes. With time, my eyelids gently lift. I look up and a voice I know well fills me from the inside out. “My Child, why did you not go to the lost sheep I was calling you to?” “Oh Father I tried!” I gasp. “I really did! But every time I took a step, a horribly selfish girl blocked my way! Surely you saw, Lord! There was no way around her!” His voice is steady and calm,“Dear One, you are the only one here. Do you not know that you are in a hall of mirrors?” “As His words reach my ears, my heart twists and a sob rises from my innermost being. The disgust of my own self-centered wretchedness weighs like a one-ton brick on my shoulder. I slowly nod in shame, knowing that I have failed. “Raise your chin, My child. I knew you before the beginning of time. Did you think I did not know what you were up against? Your earthly heart is plagued with the stench of selfishness. But I have overcome the world! You are not of the world, My Beloved, you are of My Kingdom. You cannot put off your old self without Me, but with Me, all things are possible. Come now, take My hand. Before you, you will find a hammer. The head of the hammer has been carved from the rock of the salvation I have given you. The handle was shaped by My hand, molded from the new life you have in Me. Your name was once on this hammer, but I have covered it with Mine. Rise my child, take this hammer, and do what you will.” So I stood, hammer in hand. I gazed at the mirrors around me for only a split-second before the deafening sound of shattering glass filled what once stood as a hall of mirrors.

Picture from: olystudio.com

Oh, to be Humble...

When I reflect on the things I have been learning in the last few months, humility is instantly brought to the front of my mind. I must say that arrogance is one of my pet peeves. When I am around someone whom I have labeled "stuck up" I find myself losing patience much more quickly than normal. Yet, lately when I start to feel this way, it is as if God places a huge mirror in front of those people and I find myself staring Micah Leake straight in the face...and on my forehead is a label reading PRIDEFUL. "Me? Prideful?" I ask God. "Surely not. You know that pride drives me crazy! I may not be perfect, but I am NOT prideful!" Problem with that statement? I certainly think so, and I know my Father agrees. That thought in itself is prideful! More and more I feel like most of the sin in my life is rooted in pride. Name any sin and it is quite possible that it can be traced back to pride. I feel self conscious? Pride--I am focused on my SELF. Jealousy? Pride--I am comparing MYSELF to others. Anger? Usually pride--someone is wasting MY time, not noticing MY hard work, or not considering MY feelings. I could go on and on. Every day I am amazed at the seemingly "small" imperfections in my heart that are based out of an attitude of pride. No matter what label I try to give them--please...anything but pride--My Father again and again brings me back to face the ugly truth: Pride has wiggled it's nasty little hands into my heart. Ok, so I am finally willing to admit this. But how do I become free? I truly believe that it is the humility of the cross that blows pride to pieces. When I allow myself to truly reflect on the meaning of the cross and what my Jesus did for me, the filthy and fallen human that I am, I believe that it is only at that moment that I am truly humbled. To think of my perfect, holy Jesus experiencing true death so that I never will leaves me speechless. I think of all the years I spent breaking His heart, denying His love, and being a slave to lies. I think of my life now, surrendered to Christ, but still so human and susceptible to such filth. The King of All took that filth and redeemed it. He took a poor orphaned slave girl, very deserving of hell, and suffered the worst punishment that she may be clothed in white and called a true beautiful Princess. What about that is not humbling?! If I am to truly understand the death and resurrection of my Lord, I am to be truly humbled. But yet, even just understanding is not enough. Until I understand as well as live out that incredible sacrifice, pride will still be rearing it's ugly head in every aspect of my life. We as the redeemed have received the greatest gift. It is our duty, our calling, and our greatest honor to live out the story of that redemption in our everyday lives that our King may be given the greatest praise and glory. Psalm 138:6 says: "Though the LORD is on high, He looks upon the lowly, but the proud He knows from afar." Pride has such power and is so despised by God! If there is anything that I don't want, it is God looking at me from afar. I need His presence and His nearness each and every day of my life. It is His closeness that empowers me with boldness, joy, and peace. I don't want a god like those of the world have. Our God is different because He is intimate. There is no way I am going to give pride the power in my life to destroy that! Instead, I am going to fight back with all I have. The thing is, I don't have to fight a loud and clanging battle. My battle is fought in stillness and silence--my victory is won as I rest quietly before my King and reflect on what He has rescued me from. The more I reflect, the more humbled I am as that reflection in my mind becomes the reflection of Christ's humility in my own life.

"Man is never so tall as when he kneels before God...never so great as when he humbles himself before God, and the man who kneels to God can stand up to anything."
~Louis H. Evans~

Picture from: http://landmarkbaptistcarlsbad.com/ministries/teen-dept/