Did you ever have a dream that seems crazy but burns inside you?  Like you know that you know that you know this one will be carried with you until time transforms it into regret if you don’t do it.

Not just a dream that seemed a little far fetched or iffy, but a desire that all the well meaning friends and family in your life advised against.  A risk, they called it.  The one the  people who love you and want the best for you keep begging you to please-consider-the-facts-before-you-do-this kind of a dream?

Risky Dreamer, I know you. I’ve been in your shoes.  I’ve looked odds and diagnoses and naysayers in the eye.  I’ve stood toe to toe with all the reasons to fear and doubt. I’ve had doctors and friends and strangers at the store all tell me I was crazy.

And maybe I was.

But now I look at my youngest girls.  Hannah is nine and Ruthie is seven.  I wish you could hear them laugh and play Little House on the Prairie with my friend’s daughter.  I wish you could hear them retell the stories they listen to each night as they fall asleep.  Stories that are wholesome and true and innocent.  A few months ago while hiking a section of the AT, they sang “Old Dan Tucker” just like Pa sang it to Mary and Laura as we hiked in the mountains.  They have bunnies and collect eggs and recite poetry.  They sneak into bed with me in the mornings and want to hold my hand as we walk.  And I can’t imagine a day without these two.

But they almost weren’t born.

After Josiah, our fourth child, was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis, we found out that he carried a genetic condition.  Eric and I both are both carriers for the CF gene, therefore, with every pregnancy we had 25% of each child having CF.  The doctors told us we had already beaten the odds too many times (none of the three older children had CF) to get that lucky again.  Our parents advised us that adoption was a great option.  Our pastor told us the wise thing to do would be to enjoy the children we already had or to think about adoption.  People everywhere seemed to think it wouldn’t be fair to our older children to have to share so much time with another sibling that had such high odds of being born with a serious, incurable illness.  And, they said, it certainly wouldn’t be fair to the child born with CF to bring him or her into the world.

See, Eric and I had this dream.  We dreamed of a big family.  We never had a number set in our minds, we just figured we’d know when our quiver was full.  As we took into consideration all we were hearing around us, we agreed that we wouldn’t change anything about Josiah. Not for a second.  His story wasn’t more than we could handle.  Our older children were not being neglected – in fact, they were  learning acceptance and compassion, selflessness and love.  Our lives are so much better because of Josiah and his journey, not in spite of it.  We decided we would receive a child as a blessing – any child – with a diagnosable illness or not.  Because here’s the thing – each of our children have issues.  They struggle with lying, rebellion, anger, disobedience, manipulation…you name it, we’ve covered it.  And just because each of them is imperfect or “unhealthy” in some respect or another, we’d never think of trading them out for a less complicated version.

We thanked each and every kind hearted person for their advice and decided that God gave us this desire for children before we knew anything at all about a deadly diagnosis.  We had to decide if what was in our hearts was conditional on the health of a baby or enough money in the bank or how tired we were with four other children or if we were willing to go after our dream – no matter what.

Because while dreams are not conditional, they do come with a cost.  I wish I could say we never doubted.  Or had our hearts broken.  I wish I could tell you it all worked out perfectly.  But that wouldn’t be true.  Our dream to have a family was indeed a trial by fire.  We walked straight through the heat of the furnace.  And we survived.

You will too.

You may limp into your dream or roll in on a broken wheel, but it’s not how you get there – it just matters that you get there.  If there’s something in your heart that burns to be birthed into your life, there will be a hundred reasons why it doesn’t make sense.  And, unfortunately, sometimes the people closest to you might be the ones asking you to reconsider your reckless dream.  That’s a hard place to be.  Take their thoughts into consideration, sift it through the Holy Spirit and if your dream remains, watch as the sea parts before you.  Your dream might not look like you think it will.  I can’t guarantee you’ll finally have a baby after you’ve lost several to miscarriage.  I wish I could say that it always turn out just like you want in the end.  It doesn’t.  There is still divorce, miscarriage, bankruptcy, and pain. The world is filled up with people broken down on the side of the road on the way to their dreams because life is hard.

But you, dear Dreamer, don’t quit.  Slow down and rest if you must, but don’t you dare quit.  The world needs you to to chase your dream.  Maybe you won’t get all the way there, but every step counts.