Fear

I had a message last night from a friend about Angel Tree (and if you ever see this I hope you don't mind my sharing).

This woman is a blessing to be around, she's honest, insightful, and has one of the biggest servant's hearts I've ever had the pleasure to meet. I've lost track of how many times I spotted her sharing a conversation or a ready smile with someone while unobtrusively doing some task that just needed doing. So, it struck me odd at first when she mentioned fear as a motivator for not acting on issues of justice.

Fear has been a longtime companion of mine.
Post-Partum anxiety royally sucks and social anxiety and I have been good acquaintances even longer. I've learned to manage my anxiety most of the time and am blessed to have a husband who gives me space to see to my mental health on the days when anxiety tries to take over.

For me, the interesting thing is how my fear has changed in light of my passion.
I'm not an extrovert. Even when my anxiety isn't an issue in groups I still find being with a group of people exhausted (although enjoyable if I know them and feel comfortable around them a key point that can be overlooked when dealing with us introverted folk). Yet, even with that discomfort, I cannot help but speak up when I find myself faced with an opportunity to share my passions whether that is my family, my very nerdy love of sci-fi, disabled rights, or as you may have gathered - adoption (which also ties in to family and disability).

As my knowledge on these topics grows so does my enthusiasm, my drive, and my passion.
Some of this makes a lot of sense. We all like to talk about things we enjoy and honestly have you seen a sci-fi convention? Nerds love talking about what makes us tick we just want the conversations to have purpose even if it doesn't seem meaningful to an outsider without the proper context.
Family is another easy topic for most to understand. I love my guys and want them to know it, so I try to encourage and maybe even brag on them a bit when it's appropriate,

Acts of social justice can be harder passions to understand. They can seem so distant, downplayed, or even overwhelming in our initial assessment that fear can raise its presence to the point our ability to respond is beaten down or drowned out.
That was my first year after discovering Reece's and researching into the state of orphans, especially disabled orphans, around the globe.

We are urged to be unique, stand out, find ourselves but on the other hand, when we constantly seek to stand out of the crowd we realize how alone we are and, in turn, can realize how powerless we feel in the face of the monumental tasks.

So, I prayed for my heart to break and the strength to face the beast of my fear.

Guess what?

It worked. I'm still afraid of raising my one, lonely voice in the face of all this tragedy but I'm more afraid of remaining silent, knowing I could have done something but remained silent in face of my inability to due everything. I'm still afraid but no longer feel my fear of being heard measures up to the suffering that continues in my silence. I'm afraid of the vastness of the issues but realize, like Dr. Suess says "A person's a person no matter how small." We all have something to contribute and over the years I've stumbled across tiny, solitary voices who've dared to shout out like Julia at Micah 6:8
and Jenny at Zero the Zeroes and so many others, who together form a loud chorus that shakes through the bad days, the hard times, and the days when you want to give up - reminding that you aren't alone.

It's astonishing the difference that community makes and I fear that we've forgotten that.

In the end these people don't need thousands upon thousands of people (although imagine how that would cut into the costs of bringing these kids home) all each child needs is one family to step up for each of them. One voice can make a difference and perhaps that's what feeds our fear the most.