tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38627030915818230402024-03-12T21:39:07.983-07:00Well...He's Broken, But FixableIn some ways, I've been blessed by bad decisions I've made in life. Blessed because God has redeemed me despite those bad decisions. I'm not a person who learns easily through others' mistakes. I learn through my own and God continues to reveal Himself to me little chunks at a time through those mistakes. That's what I intend to write about here (Sometimes sentimental...Sometimes humorous.) Love it or hate it, please let me know what you think.cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-50957634199179271162016-03-24T23:32:00.000-07:002016-03-24T23:38:36.394-07:00Countdown to Baby A...Day 6: The Ransom<div class="MsoNormal">
“It doesn’t make sense!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why would they charge you so much money for helping a child?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s almost like they’re punishing you for
doing good.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are questions and
statements we hear all the time and I’ll admit, the first time we adopted, I didn’t
really have a good answer to the big, “Why so much?” question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This amount does seem a bit crazy and after hearing the
questions from so many people, you start to feel the same way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But here’s the deal, it absolutely makes
sense.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t get into
the gross, messy details, but let me tell you… Adoption fraud is real and the
ones who suffer most from this are orphans or in some cases, children who
aren’t even true orphans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Basically,
something as sweet as adoption can be turned into a dirty, for-profit business.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So here’s the real story behind our adoption ransom…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Some of our adoption fees, both from the U.S. and India
sides, goes to investigate Baby A’s background to make sure she is a true
orphan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A good agency will interview a
child’s family and anyone else who may have knowledge as to whether or not a child
is a true orphan to make sure everything is legit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They check backstories and check them again
to make sure there is no error behind how the child became an orphan.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From there, the money goes into our background checks, home
studies where they interview the entire family (including children), passports,
visas, travel and the list goes on and on.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What I’m basically trying to say is this… Every cent of Baby
A’s ransom went toward protecting her and isn’t that what matters in this whole
thing? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Protection, healing and growth are our number one priority
for Baby A so much to the point that, not having met her, we would give our
lives for her this very second.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
sounds like a big boast, but it’s complete truth and here’s why… Because we
want to comfort and guide her through the many months she’s spent without that
parental protection and love… and we will offer that protection to her every
day of her life and love her along the way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While the dollar amount surrounding her adoption may seem
ludicrous, please know it’s a ransom we would gladly pay for her or anyone of
our children again and again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
deserve to live in a place of safety, so their innocence can be protected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wouldn’t you pay the same ransom for your
children?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t blame anyone for asking such questions or even being
shocked at the amount, but I do want people to be encouraged when they hear
that amount and know that the adoptive parents, when all is said and done,
won’t regret paying a single penny toward completing their family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the end, their child will someday be home,
or is already home and no amount of money in the world could ever replace that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Ransom Paid…Baby’s Home…and Now They Can Dream About The
Future Together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What else matters?<o:p></o:p></div>
cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-63171468975919737452016-03-23T23:49:00.000-07:002016-03-23T23:49:59.186-07:00Countdown to Baby A…Day 7: You’re So Amazing!
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<!--StartFragment-->
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re saving a child?
You’re so amazing!” This is often
what Becca and I hear from a lot of folks, when we tell them we’re
adopting. It’s a nice thing for people
to say and while we appreciate the kind words, they can sometimes get to your
head. I’ll admit, there have been times
I’ve walked away from those conversations with my chest puffed up and my ego on
high.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But here’s the truth… We’re not heroes or saviors or even
wonderful, amazing people. We’re two
married people with the same thing placed on our hearts by God and while we
realize we’re helping this sweet baby who has very little, we know we will be
far more blessed by Baby A than she will be by us. We knew that before bringing Jeremiah home 6 years ago and he has proven it time and time again.
So much so, that he’s the second biggest reason why we chose to go
through the long, agonizing journey of adoption again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first reason why we chose to adopt again? God.
This is further proof why we’re no saviors. This wasn’t a decision Becca and I thought of
one day and said, “Hey, lets go save a baby.”
Why? Well, we’re very busy and
both of us work a few jobs to try to maintain our financial well-being. We like staying in our comfort-zone and the
thought of adding anything to our plates isn’t necessarily attractive to us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We’re as screwed up as anyone else out there. We’re selfish and prideful and we screw up a
lot…me more so than Becca.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fact is God put this adoption and Baby A on our
hearts. It was Him! She was born out of our hearts because, for
one reason or another, God saw fit to bless us with her. She is a gift straight from Him to us and she
will continue to be as long as we live.
The only role, although very hard at times, we play in this whole process
is that we chose to be obedient to what He called us to.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While it’s been difficult for us at many times over the last
2+ years, He’s stood right beside us and has gone before us throughout this
entire journey. You want a hero in this
whole story? Look up.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Make no mistake, we appreciate those kind words and
encouragement. We really do! And know we don’t walk around thinking we’re
terrible people, unworthy of a “Good job” every once in a while. We know we are doing some good in the world,
but we want the credit and praise placed not on us, but right where it belongs…
and that’s on the One Who put this whole crazy plan in motion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We thank God for this opportunity to parent such a sweet
little innocent child and again, know she will teach us far more than we could
ever imagine… and that’s honestly all we could hope or ask for through being
her parents.<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-58696761780055997922014-05-02T23:27:00.000-07:002014-05-08T10:14:36.036-07:00Easter Reflection<div class="MsoNormal">
As I reflect on Easter, there is an incredible amount to
think about. Obviously I think about
Jesus dying for me and that incredible act of forgiveness. I relish in that and thank him over and over
again. But given my past, it’s still
extremely hard for me to accept that forgiveness. Why?
Well throughout the last 10-20 years, I've become an agent of
guilt. I’ll choose to dive into lustful
things, selfish things, really…any sinful thing and come out feeling like
trash. In turn, I tend to parent that way
hoping my children will feel guilty enough about their transgressions that they
won’t dare do it again. Now this isn't a
conscious decision to parent this way.
I've conditioned myself into thinking it will work. It’s sad really because my guilt doesn't ever
make me repent, it makes me feel sorry for myself and angry at myself and I end
up diving into sin all the more. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year I went to a local church for an event called,
“Stations of the Cross.” There were 9
stations following Jesus from the garden to His exit from the tomb. At each station, we had an opportunity to
pray to Christ, thank Him for His sacrifice and answer questions pertaining to
the scripture on each wall and what Jesus was currently going through. It was extremely moving and caused me to
really think about where I’m at these days and how I view the sacrifice Christ
made for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I went through each station, a common theme began to take
form. Jesus lived each station I was
walking through and each station had me wanting Jesus to stop doing these
things for me. I know…it sounds crazy,
but I literally found myself wanting to get in His way and let him see who was
saving, thinking it would make Him stop.
I honestly envision it this way…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As Christ prayed to His Father at the Garden, I found myself
wanting to talk God The Father out of this whole “Die for my Sins,” thing. I picture it like this, “God. Hey it’s me, Charlie.” He responds, “I know. I created you.” I should have seen that one coming, but I go
on… “God, I realize you love me and created me the way I am, but I have to ask
you to put a stop to this. Jesus is
following you blindly here. I mean, He
knows what is going to happen, but reward Him for His faith and please put a
stop to this. I’m not worth it!!!” As soon as I say those words, He disappears.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The next thing I know, I’m standing next to Pilot as he
addresses the angry crowd surrounding Jesus.
I listen intently to the conversation, disgusted by the crowd’s chants,
but beaming as I hear Pilot say he finds no reason for Jesus to be
crucified. I find myself elated and
relieved that Pilot was about to put a stop to something not even God The
Father was willing to do. But then Pilot
washes his hands and before I can even whisper in his ear and plead Christ’s
case, he releases him to the angry mob.
As I start to yell Pilot’s name, he disappears along with everyone else.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instantly, I find myself in a crowd of monsters witnessing
Jesus wearing a crown of thorns shoved deeply into His brow as He is savagely
beaten, insulted, spit upon and whipped repeatedly with a
Cat-of-Nine-Tails. I try to scream loud
enough to be heard over the angry crowd, “Jesus! Son of God!!!
Release yourself and flee! Please
Lord! PLEASE!!!” I scream louder and louder as each drop of
blood and flesh thrown from the Cat of Nine Tails, soak up one of my sins. “JESUS STOP THIS! YOU KNOW YOU CAN DO IT, SO PLEASE PUT AN END
TO THIS!!!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the blink of an eye, the crowd, the guards, Jesus and
everyone else is gone and I’m left sitting in the pool of Jesus’ blood. With His screams of agony still fresh in my
brain, I immediately grab any kind of cloth or fabric I can find and try
feverishly to clean the area where The Son of God was nearly beaten to
death. I wipe and scrub as fast as I
can, but nothing is happening. I scrub
harder and harder to the point of my fingers breaking, but nothing soaks up the
blood. I cry out to God, “He is
faithful! He’s been faithful almost to
the point of death! Please stop this!!!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The tears rolling down my face are suddenly gone and I open
my eyes to see Jesus falling down repeatedly as He tries to carry the cross
built for His death. I try to bust
through the crowd in hopes that I might whisper into His ear, “There’s still
time. Save yourself, Jesus. I’m not worth all this.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just then the guards grab a man from the crowd and order Him
to carry Jesus’ cross. Again, my hopes quickly
arise, as now Jesus has an opportunity to slip into the crowd, to disappear, to
never be seen or beaten or mocked again.
He can be free of this death and I can go home, not having witnessed
anymore. But with one look from Jesus,
my hopes are crushed. While dragging his
own shredded body through the streets, His look simply says, “It’s time and you
are worth it.” I cry out and scream,
“Jesus NO! I’m not!!! I’m not!!!
Please Lord, NO!!!” The grief is
too much and I fall.</div>
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I awaken to the sound of hammer on nail…hammer on
nail…hammer on nail. As I begin to open
my eyes, I feel my arms thrashing violently over and over. As my vision becomes clear, I see one of my
hands swinging a hammer and the other holding a nail. I’m the one nailing Jesus to this cross and I
can’t stop! I begin to vomit and for
every purge I strike the nail even harder.
I look to Jesus expecting to see him cry out in pain with each strike,
but He calmly looks into my eyes and says, “Yes, your sins put me here, but do
not weep for me, weep for yourself.”</div>
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I back up and fall to my knees. I don’t want to witness this! I want to run away, but my legs won’t
move! I sit and watch as the cross is
dropped into the ground, hoping it will break and Jesus might somehow finally
be freed…but it doesn't.</div>
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I lay there for hours watching, weeping, and hoping there is
still some way out for The Son of God.
Then I hear Him say, “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” There it is!
I again have hope! My legs are swiftly
renewed and I run to the cross. “You’re
wrong, Jesus! I knew I was sinning when
I lied. I knew I was sinning when I
looked at porn. I knew I was sinning
when I turned my back on you, when I was selfish, when I did wrong. Get down from there! I’m not worth it! I’M not worth it! I’M NOT WORTH IT!!!!” With my last screaming attempt to rescue him,
my voice goes silent. I try and try, but
I can’t even make the slightest whimper.</div>
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At that moment, Christ looks down at me and with His eyes
filled with relief and promise, He whispers, “It is finished.”</div>
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At the tomb, I weep.
Not for Jesus, but for me. For my
loss of innocence…for my lack of faith…for my doubt…for lost time with my wife,
my kids, my family & friends. I weep
for not stopping to speak to a stranger in need...for being selfish. Ultimately, I weep for not embracing what Jesus,
My Savior, set out to do for me.</div>
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The last Station of the Cross, Jesus showed himself to His
Disciples, fulfilling the promise He made…that He had beaten death and was
still alive. Today and everyday going
forward, He has and will continue to show He is still alive and that every sin,
every iniquity, and every misstep from here to eternity is paid for.</div>
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Right now, I feel myself being asked the same questions the
Disciples were asked after Christ’s death and resurrection. Will you hide in fear? Will you seek the lost? Will you be my hands and feet? Will you not only accept what I have done,
but believe it as well? Will you take up
your cross?</div>
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Will I take up my cross?
I will, but it won’t be easy. All
too many times, I've thrown boxes and any other crap I can find, directly on my
cross, so I don’t have to carry it.
Why? Well, simply because often
times it seems a lot easier to play the part of a Christian…to act like everything
is perfect in my life…to act like I don’t sin, so I don’t have to actually carry
my cross. Living out my faith can and
does take me out of my comfort zone and pushes me to change. Change takes a lot of work and when you've
been so lazy for so long, the weight of that cross seems like way too much to
carry.</div>
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That weight will only increase, if I try to carry it all on
my own, but this Easter has reminded me that I don’t have to carry it on my
own. Look, I’m not saying I won’t have
to work hard to change things, but I know if I give Jesus the opportunity to
change me, He in turn will help carry the weight of that cross. I don’t know about you, but that makes me
smile a whole bunch.</div>
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Since Easter, I've decided to make a lot of spiritual,
mental and physical changes. I've set goals
in all those areas, but the biggest is to spend time with Jesus and surrender
guilt because without attaining those goals, every other thing I set before me
will be futile. Oh…and I’m already
making steps in dropping the unconscious “parent by guilt” thing, so my kids
can learn from their mistakes, while living with joy. I figure that’s pretty important.</div>
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So here’s where you come in, if you’re up for it… I’d really
appreciate it if you’d take some time to pray for me, that I will allow Jesus
and His sacrifice to take hold in my life more and more every day. And if you’re up for a challenge, I not only invite
you to think about what changes you can make in your life as you reflect on
Easter, but to actually take steps to change in those areas .</div>
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Cheers to “Christian New Years” when we are reminded of
Jesus’ gift of a new life and embracing our chance to live it out! </div>
cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-89833544992527715562014-01-23T21:53:00.000-08:002014-01-28T13:00:19.856-08:00Rummage Sale, Saints, and Adoption<div class="MsoNormal">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you ever felt blessed beyond what you deserve? Have you ever sat at your desk at work and
found your eyeballs filled with tears?
Not because of some inspirational, heartwarming video you watched on
YouTube or Facebook, but because something so incredible and heartwarming was
actually happening to you? I have.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">About a month ago, we put the announcement out to our church
that we were going to have an Adoption Fundraiser Rummage Sale and asked people
to donate anything they may have lying around the house, so we could raise
money for our adoption. This wasn’t our
first go-round with this type of fundraiser, as we did it back in early 2009,
before we adopted our sweet little Ethiopian Prince, Jeremiah. Back then, we had numerous people donate a bunch
of stuff and one friend made countless trips to our house with cars-full of great things to sell. The end result...over $700. Pretty cool, huh?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">W</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ell this time, we had no idea what we were in store
for. First, I had friends contact me
within a minute of posting our request on Facebook and within 3 weeks, our
community…nay… our church family, had filled our larger-than-most shed at
church. 2 days before our sale, I put
the request out to my poker buddies and they jumped into action, as well. It was pretty cool, but the real surprise
came when we started laying out everything for the sale in our church
sanctuary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">IT WAS FULL! Granted,
our sanctuary isn’t huge, but it was friggin full! 2 X-Boxes, 2 Bean-Bags the size of Montana, vases,
lamps, a couch, enough clothes to fill the Grand Canyon (slight exaggeration),
TVs, books, kids toys, a bike, sports equipment, etc… Pretty much everything you could think of and,
to top it off, a woman from our church who bakes for a living, made 2 huge
chocolate cakes and cookies to sell. Did
I mention my brother from another mother, Jeff, made his famous Ocean Rolls for
us to sell? Again…pretty cool.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So we set up Thursday night for a Friday morning sale. The late night and short rest quickly turned
to morning, so with exhaustion setting in, Becca and I left for church. After a few last-minute tasks at the church,
I kissed my wife and off to work I went.
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Within 25 minutes, people were banging on the church door,
asking my wife to get in early. Headache-ridden
and overwhelmed, my wife texted me asking for prayer because she was already at
the brink of breaking down. A few
minutes later, I received this text, “Just started crying….pray for your dumb
stressed out wife! Ly” (Note: She was
never this overwhelmed before three kids.
Go figure.) A few minutes later,
our resident “Fix-All Lady” Donna showed up, took over, and let Becca regroup. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That’s when it hit me at the office…eyes-welling, knowing
how God has surrounded us with incredible people. Becca continued to send me texts of more
people showing up to help, people donating extra money on top of what they were
already spending, and how her headache had disappeared. I may lose my ‘Man Card’ for admitting this,
but I just kept welling up throughout the day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As if generosity hadn’t been heaped on us enough that day,
our friend/neighbor Shawna, helped us clean up for about an hour, picked Emmy
up for school, and brought us dinner.
Seriously, what is wrong with all these nice people? I thought our culture is supposed to be full
of “Me Monsters” who only care about themselves. Our friends clearly did not get that memo.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A long story, short…we drove away from the church after the Friday/Saturday
sale completely exhausted, but with a little over $2,000 toward our adoption…and
we haven’t even sold the 2 X-Boxes yet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The following day at church, we had the opportunity to share
with and thank our <s>church</s> family.
They gave us a mic and we set out to try to put into words what their
kindness did for us. I’m terrible at
public speaking and I may or may not have gotten choked up while speaking,
which made my attempt even more pathetic.
(I think I actually squealed at one point…pathetic!) To be honest, I’m still not exactly sure what
I said, so here’s my second (less teary, more coherent) attempt to thank
everyone.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First off, THANK YOU!
The time and great sellable items are far more than what we could have
ever asked for. When we went to our
first adoption seminar, they told us, “If God is calling you to adopt, don’t
worry about the money. He will provide
it!” And He did. We came in with the same mantra this time
around and guess what? He is providing
again and I have no doubt, He will continue to do so.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By no means am I comparing what we are doing to what God has
done for us, but I like to explain it this way…
Jesus’ death on the cross, His incredible sacrifice, paid our
ransom. At the moment He breathed his
last, we were no longer orphans, but sons and daughters. Our ransom was, and is, forever paid!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Adoption, at least internationally, is extremely expensive,
but Becca and I see it as a ransom we pay to forever (or at least as long as we
live) receive our son or daughter.
Through this, many people have told us how incredible we are for
“saving” this child. That’s where the tiny
comparison of Christ and us quickly diminishes.
Yes, it is a sacrifice when you spend so much time and money to complete
an adoption, but we truly are far more blessed by our new son or daughter, than
they will ever be by us. That is an
unquestionable fact. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we set out to adopt our eventual son, Jeremiah, we
never thought, “Man, its sure going to be great when we save this child. He better never take us for granted because
without us, who knows what would have happened to him!” Why?
Well, (1) God could have picked anyone to be Jeremiah’s parents, but He
chose us to be blessed by this incredible boy.
He chose us to raise this sweet boy and that is an incredible gift! (2) We wanted another child to love and to
love us…not owe us for something God put on our hearts. (3) The call to adopt is not for the weak at
heart. It’s not some Slam-Dunk, Save the
World so we can look good, sort of thing.
It’s hard and it sucks a lot of the time. When you sit and wait for answers on the well-being
of your child a half-a-world away, you realize how much that child means to you…how
much you love him. Any thought you might
ever have had about them “owing you” vanishes at that moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Basically, we can’t take pride in “saving” our next child
because God is the one behind the “saving.”
He’s saving Becca and me from not fulfilling His plan for our
lives. He’s saving Emmy, Jeremiah and
Levi from being short a sibling. He’s
saving us from not reaping the rewards of being obedient. Really…He’s saving our family from being
incomplete. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So when I tell our family and friends, “Thank you for helping
pay the ransom for our next child,” please know I say that, giving full credit
to the “Hero” in this story…Jesus Christ.
Becca and I are by no means “Saviors.”
We are simply saying yes to what God is calling us to do (Something I’m
not very good at, mind you.) The paid
“ransom” and “saving” is and will continue to be handled by my Jesus…and that
suits me just fine.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To our Water Church family and friends, thank you. Thank you for giving your time and
possessions to help pay that “ransom.”
But mostly, thank you for allowing me to encounter one of those
feel-good, heartwarming moments that can make my eyeballs fill with tears. Not on YouTube or Facebook or Vimeo or
anywhere else on the internet… But smack-dab,
face-to-face, in the flesh, right in front of me. Your selflessness this past month and
especially this past weekend, has showed me how well surrounded our family is
with Saints and God’s all-encompassing goodness.</span><br />
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cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-75916208554078105992013-11-14T01:02:00.000-08:002013-11-19T13:45:59.951-08:00Adoption Update: Special Needs? Wait...what Kind of Special Needs?A big apology to all two of my blog followers. I realize I haven't posted in almost 3 months and, much like the rest of the world, you're on pins and needles waiting for my next post. Now that we're out of the 1-Bedroom 700 sq ft house, my big stupid brain has more room to think, soooo here's what you've been waiting for.<br />
<br />
Apparently, the twists and turns of life are not over. Apparently I was wrong when I was young and thought I'd have everything figured out by 35 (granted...I don't turn 35 for another 3+ months, so there's some hope). Apparently God isn't done teaching me lessons (go figure).<br />
<br />
My latest lesson, which I shared at church a couple Sundays ago is this...I'm selfish. Yes, selfish. Now before you jump on the phone and call the local newspaper in shear shock, let me explain (kidding, of course). <br />
<br />
I've always known I was "a bit" selfish. I've put myself first plenty of times and manipulated many people to get what I want, so figuring out that I was selfish wasn't a huge step for me. But recently, I had a conversation with my wife that rocked me, even though it was one of the simplest conversations we've had.<br />
<br />
So here we go... About a month ago, my wife and I decided we wanted to "officially" start the adoption process and that, this time, we would open the door to a "special needs" child. Becca asked me what special needs I was comfortable with and I answered candidly. Now you can't really fault us on this, as it's a huge decision and I realize this sounds harsh, but trust me... this wasn't a case where we created some sort of shopping list for our next child. This was an honest question which I thought I was ready to answer, until I actually did.<br />
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I started off with, "Lost limbs, cleft pallet (easy fix BTW), mild-deformity and.." Becca cut in, "What about down syndrome?" Obviously, I was caught off guard, but answered honestly. "They're (yes, I said "they're", like people with down-syndrome are some separate species) ... so much fun, but sometimes they never leave the house. I mean, I want to retire someday and travel with you." Aaaaaand that's where it hit me...my selfishness. (Note: There is nothing wrong with retirement and travel. This is MY conviction. God calls each of us to <u>care</u> for the widows and orphans. He doesn't call all of us to adopt.)<br />
<br />
In saying those words, I realized I was actually putting retirement and travel ahead of some child who has no one and nothing. Retirement?! Travel?! I'm focused on those things, instead of a child who really has nothing but simple joy in them? A child who could remind me everyday of the faith and innocence I once had, before the world crept in and setup camp in my brain? A child that can literally make anyone smile? A child who God could use to steal away my selfishness and make it disappear? Needless to say, I stopped dead in my tracks and thought, "WOW. I'M FREAKING SELFISH!!!"<br />
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To make things worse (ok...better), God pointed out to me that literally everything, every sin I've ever encountered and struggled with has centered around selfishness. Oh the familiar sting of realizing I'm an idiot.<br />
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So here I sit, reading stories of highly capable children and adults with down-syndrome who are living and have led perfectly normal lives, while dealing with the constant attack and insult of the word, "retarded" ... knowing I may have to deal with someone calling my "possible" future child that same stupid word. I try and imagine my response and the best I can come up with is this.<br />
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"Sir/Ma'am, my child has down-syndrome. He/She isn't retarded. They are full of a joy and innocence which neither of us can possibly imagine. The only "retarded" person you see in front of you is a man who almost gave up the opportunity to experience this sweet child and build into them. I hope you have a nice day, Kevin." (Note: I randomly picked that name. Sorry Kevins of the world.)<br />
<br />
And that's the truth. Look, I'm not naive enough to think bringing home a child with down-syndrome will be easy and to be honest, it might not even happen. I'm not totally ok with the idea yet and maybe that's the point. Maybe God is just working on me to the point where I'm ok with it. Our next child may be perfectly healthy, they may have one less arm than me or they may have a cleft lip. The fact is that I need to not only be ok with whatever child God has for me, but I need to be excited for that moment where I hug that child for the first time. To be honest, in my mind it's really no different than the moment I met every one of my other children. I knew there would be hard times. I knew there might be a moment when they're being made fun of or picked on. I knew their lives and mine would never be perfect. So what's stopping me now? Answer: Selfishness.<br />
<br />
For now, I suppose I need to work on this whole selfishness thing and hope that in the meantime, I don't miss out on whatever God has for me on the other end.<br />
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Here's where you come in... Please pray for Becca and I, and really our entire family, as we set out on the second of our adoption journeys. Please pray that whatever child God has for us, that we will be excited about him/her (Emmy really wants a sister). And please pray that I will take my eyes off the mirror in front of me and refocus them on the One who created me to make a difference. (That's right...big stupid-brained me was put on this earth to make a difference. Go figure.)<br />
<br />
Oh...and that whole "retirement and travel" thing? I'm pretty sure when I close my eyes for the last time, I'll awake in the ultimate paradise getaway, complete with an eternal stay. So yeah, I'm good with that.<br />
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Thank you!<br />
<br />
<br />cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-46449298301212019102013-08-16T16:59:00.001-07:002013-08-16T16:59:29.287-07:00Tales of a Tiny HouseIt's been a while since I've posted anything for one simple reason...my brain has lost all functionality and will to exist, let alone process enough thought to type even the simplest of words on this dusty computer screen.<br />
<br />
Why? you ask. Well, months ago, my wife and I agreed it would be a great time of bonding for us to move into a 715 sq ft, one bedroom house with our loving family of five, while our new house is being built. We would live in an eclectic part of town where the river is only 100 yards away, downtown is a lazy 10 minute walk away, and most of all, we could grow closer as a family. Not to mention, the owners were the only people willing to do a month-to-month lease and we could save a little extra money for our down-payment. Yes it would be tough having to shed some alone time and a bit of privacy, but man would it be worth it!<br />
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Cue the prick of Captain Hook's sword in my back, as I willfully walk the plank. I'm ready to fall, nay...jump into the shark-infested sea below. Hopefully, they don't toy with their prey too much before ending my existence, but if they do, it still won't be as bad as the bites sustained by the... constant tiptoeing over creaky, uneven floors...or the nights when Levi sleeping (or not sleeping I should say) in the same room as his older siblings, keeping them (and us) up all hours of the night...or the lack of a retreat to escape the forever-running mouth of my 4 year-old ("Daddy, can I have a snack? Daddy, watch this! Daddy, can you get me some water? Daddy, watch this! Daddy, can I play with my legos? Daddy, watch this! Daddy, watch THIS! DADDY, WATCH THIS!!!! Daddy, why are your ears bleeding?) I could go on, but you get the point.<br />
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Yes, the plank has never looked so inviting before now. Please understand, I look forward to seeing Jesus when I die. I do! But I've always wanted to stay on this earth long enough to walk Emmy down the aisle on her wedding day...to teach my kids how to play sports, ride a bike, etc...to instill love, patience, and strength into each of them. Now...not so much. "Excuse me, Mr. Reaper. You have a call from a Charlie Beal on line one."<br />
<br />
"Come on, Charlie. It can't be that bad." <br />
<br />
"I'm sorry. What? I can't hear you. Come a tiny bit closer, so I can smack you in the mouth. A little closer. A liiiiiittle closer."<br />
<br />
Have you ever shared a Kleenex-sized bathroom with 4 other people? Have you ever had to put off making sandwiches (on a 10" x 10" portion of counter space mind you) because you were afraid of waking your children in the next room? Have you ever tippy-toed across a floor, as if you were avoiding lasers while robbing a museum, in order to not wake your sleeping wife? Have you ever been in the same room as your children for every waking hour you're not at work? Have you ever changed right in front of your living room window (that's where our dresser is) at the risk of your neighbors seeing you naked, because closing the window equates to instant claustrophobia? As Becca says, "It's like a never-ending camping trip in a really nice tent!" Shall I go on?<br />
<br />
Have I mentioned we still have 3 months (best case scenario) left in the tiny house? I've never been a big fan of "hard-alcohol," but at this point, an IV with a constant flow of Jack Daniels sounds intriguing. <br />
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To top it off, I'm pretty sure Levi hates me now. Before moving, I was 'The Man' when it came to putting him to bed. I'd sing one song to which he would reply with his cute little hands bumping together, "Mo Mo." I'd sing another song, "Mo Mo." After the third song, I'd rock him slowly and he'd eventually give me a kiss and lean toward his crib. Within 5 minutes, he was asleep and Becca and I were hanging out.<br />
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When I try (Key Word: Try) to put him to bed now, there's weeping and gnashing of teeth. Seriously! It's like there's an alien trying to escape his body. (Googling Exorcism) To make matters worse, I'm pretty sure he flipped me off last night...and not just with one hand. Apparently, my plan of having him watch 'The Departed' to get him sleepy was a bad choice.<br />
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So here I sit befuddled by life's choices. Choices Becca and I thought were good. Choices we felt would bring our family closer. Choices which have culminated in me waking up in a cold sweat after dreaming my kids were beating me to death with a bunch of tiny houses made of legos.<br />
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To our house-builders...please hurry. To our family and friends...please pray. To my coroner...let me save you some time. Cause of Death: Lethal combination of Tiny House and Children (otherwise known as "THC").<br />
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PS... James 1:2-4: Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,<sup> </sup>whenever you face trials of many kinds,<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-30269F" title="See cross-reference F">F</a>)"></sup> <span class="text Jas-1-3" id="en-NIV-30270">because you know that the testing of your faith<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-30270G" title="See cross-reference G">G</a>)"></sup> produces perseverance.<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-30270H" title="See cross-reference H">H</a>)"></sup></span> <br />
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While I'm frustrated with our current situation, I absolutely believe we will look back on this time with fond memories and a new appreciation for what God has and continues to bless us with. But seriously, you should pray that we find more joy than pain in our current trial. <br />
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PSS... Last night (really this morning), Levi kept Becca and I up until 3:00 and 1:30 respectively...I woke up at 5. Yay perseverance...kinda! <br />
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<br />cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-44983574539902398252013-06-18T11:37:00.001-07:002013-06-18T11:37:59.828-07:00Here We Go Again...Adoption 2.0"Hey Charlie! I realize you just sold your house, you're moving into a 720 sq ft 1-bedroom house with a family of five, and your offer just got accepted on another house, but I have an idea...adopt. Yes, adopt!"<br />
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"I'm sorry...what?"<br />
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Yep, the words you see above are downright crazy. Some might even say stupid. But when God speaks, I tend to listen. Don't give me that look! I always listen, but I may not always obey, especially in crazy times such as this. But here we are. The call has been made and it's time I answer.<br />
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"But Charlie, WHY?!" The last time you guys adopted, it sent you into a tail spin of debt and stress. The only reason you sold a house you're happy in is to settle your debt. And now...NOW you want to set yourself up for that again?!!!"<br />
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You're so vain. You probably think this post is about you. Don't you? Don't you?</div>
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No, those critical, Doubting Thomas, and really...somewhat appropriate questions written above are from me to...well...me.</div>
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So to answer my own questions above...in one word, youredamnright.<br />
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Sorry for the whole "damn" thing, but it feels appropriate. When you've fought something you know is right for so long, you tend to cuss. Well, I do. Sorry Mom and Dad.<br />
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Now don't get me wrong. I'm not approaching this whole adoption thing, like "It's ok if we build up a bunch of debt for an adoption. Let's break out the credit card apps and roll, baby!" I know we have to change some things to change some lives and (Becca, cover your ears) if that means skipping some rounds of golf or a guys weekend trip, that's ok. (Becca. Becca! You can uncover your ears now.)<br />
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So let's go back to that whole "Why?" thing. Again...in one word, Jeremiah. Yes, my little Ethiopian Prince. My sweet, fiery son who's purpose, at least in his younger years (prayerfully), has been to teach me patience. To teach me that I'm still able to pull my hair out even right after I shave my head. To teach me that I can hear the same question 57 times in 15 minutes without putting my fist through a wall. To teach me that crying and screaming in a very public place such as Target, Church and wherever you might imagine is tolerable...to a degree. To teach me that getting hit or kicked in the "man area" is tolerable (yes, vomit is forming in my mouth at the very thought). But above all...my son has taught me that I can love any child God has called me to, as my own. <br />
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"We get it, Charlie. You love your son...he's cool...yada yada yada, but why would you risk falling back into debt?" Oh, that pesky question!!! <br />
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Ok, you might be a little frustrated with my answer, but here we go... Why not? Yes, why friggin not?!!! Look, I get frustrated with the stress of life and sometimes even with my family. I fly off the handle. I cuss. I bitch. I moan. I look at other men who are single and sometimes envy them because their lives seem a bit more carefree. I struggle with stuff I know I shouldn't. I screw up and don't have things in order nearly at much as I would like. But if I wait for the point where I'm perfect, before I actually help someone, I'll help no one because it will never happen.<br />
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So again...Why not? You see, God has given me a heart to love on people. A heart to pick children up who may not know what's going on, even though a big nasty world is crumbling all around them. A heart to do right, even when I can't muster the energy to do so (I rarely succeed in this area). A heart to do something that may be seen as foolish in the eyes of the world because I feel called to (again...I rarely succeed in this area). Really...a heart for those who are hurting because I've been someone who has hurt. I know the burn. I know the regret. I know the sorrow and the longing for something better.<br />
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Now that last paragraph isn't a "Praise Me"sort of thing. Trust me...I fall short plenty more times than I do well.<br />
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What I'm trying to explain here is that I'm far from perfect, but it seems foolish not to help someone. Knowing my love for my own children, it seems foolish not to offer that same love to another child.<br />
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So here's where you come in...help us out. Look, adoption is extremely expensive and I could easily buy the truck of my dreams for less than the cost of adopting a sweet child. But I don't want your money, unless you feel called to help us out in that way. What I really want is your prayers. Throw our names and desires up to the heavens if you will. Anytime you see a helpless or downtrodden individual, pray for them and after that, pray for our next child. Heck, if it helps, pray for a sweet soul who will run up and hit or kick me in the "junk." Ahhh...I can see I've stuck a cord. So whatever it takes to inspire you, please lift our family up in prayer and ask for wisdom as to where our fourth child lies and how God can provide a way to get to him or her.<br />
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From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Cheers to many more years of providing love to the little ones in our lives and cheers to you for joining us in this adventure.<br />
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<br />cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-13049507588478107942013-04-28T00:42:00.001-07:002013-05-09T14:10:59.450-07:00A "Smart" Bit of Truth<br />
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Smart phones? Yes, smart phones. I never would have guessed this type of technology could be such a huge benefit to me. The internet, Facebook and email accessibility...the calendars, reminders, on-the-spot photos... The way we can use them is absolutely incredible! However, I recently discovered a benefit I never could have imagined with smart phones...a benefit I've never even seen or heard marketed by Apple, Samsung or any of the major manufacturers of these great devices.</div>
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Now I saw the following video shared on my wife's Facebook account and, using my iPhone, I clicked on it to view whatever it was she decided to share with all her Facebook friends. I thought, "Well if she thinks it's worth sharing, I better check it out."</div>
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http://youtu.be/jF_x8dsvb_4</div>
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Oh, how great smart phones are! I can simply click a link to a video and before I can say, "Chowder," in a Boston accent (a stupid hobby of mine), the video is already playing on my phone.</div>
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Well, the unknown benefit to my iPhone was quickly realized as the video ended. There I was with a black screen and no real applicable conclusion to the video, except for the heart-pumping "I'm going to change the world!" feeling raised by such videos. Those feelings quickly subside, so really, I was left with an empty promise to myself and a blank screen. To a smart phone junkie like myself, this was an unwelcome, uncomfortable, and somewhat nauseating feeling which I absolutely hate. But there it was before me...a simple bit of truth... With a black screen in front of me and nothing else to look at, I stared blankly at the reflection on the screen...my face.</div>
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Yes, with the message set before me and the conviction deep in my heart, I saw the true realization that who God was speaking to through this video was me. Think about it. How many times have you watched a deeply moving, heart-wrenching, convicting piece on Facebook or any other media stream, through the means of your cell phone, only to have the end-result be you looking at yourself through a $200+ mirror?</div>
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That end-result left me fathomed at how much I really focus on me. How I look at nearly every decision as to how it would affect me. How every dollar I may or may not hand to a homeless person will affect me. How every time my wife wants some time away to reflect or refill might affect me. How every time I choose to give up my free time for others' benefit might affect me.</div>
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Well, the time is now to change that whole load of crap. The amazement I found in the reflection I saw in my "Smart Phone," wasn't based on an incredible app or what the phone's technology could provide me. It was based on a simple reflection...it was my face. It was the realization that what I had encountered on the screen of my incredible phone had nothing to do with the phone. It had absolutely nothing to do with Apple, the technicians or the designers behind the phone. It did, however, have everything to do with the Creator.</div>
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I have every reason to believe that God had me watch this video on my phone, rather than a mega-pixel, high-def computer screen, for a huge reason...He wanted me to see my reflection. The simple image everyone sees, or would see, when they have an in-person encounter with me. The main thing that would identify me, if anyone saw me on the street. Basically, how I'm seen through any eye that falls upon me.</div>
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The simple fact is this...I'm concerned with the now...with my enjoyment here on earth...with my playing golf twice a month...with my alone time...with the comfort and fulfillment in my day-to-day routine. In actuality, as Mr. Chan would say, I'm concerned with the tiniest piece of my eternity and that is absolutely stupid.</div>
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Will I change? I hope so. I hope the reflection seen in my most prized material possession, will someday communicate a man who is confident when presented with such a challenge...such a truth. Until then, I suppose what I look at on my phone, when it ends, will present a simple truth as to who I am and where my treasure lies (Matthew 6:21). I hope and pray when each video I view on my phone ends, I will be able to consciously see where I'm at in my search for what God has for me. I hope that reflection shows contentment and pride in what my God is doing in and through me. I hope it shows a life filled with purpose!</div>
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So here's my challenge to you... What are you going to notice the next time that screen goes black after a video? Will you see shame, conflict, sadness...or will you see thankfulness, contentment, gladness, etc...? Better yet, will you allow whatever it is you see to change you into what you were meant to be?</div>
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Whatever you see, I hope it pushes you to excel in what it is your heart...not your mind...desires. I hate to say it (screw that...it's my pleasure to say it), but you were put here on this earth to help others and reap the benefits accordingly. So do it!</div>
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PS...You really never know what technology will have to offer you or where it will take you. For me, a simple reflection will be all I ever really need from it. It has provided me with something programmers and designers probably never set as a goal...a mirror into my soul. Cheers to Apple and Samsung and whatever other smart phone company is out there. I raise this glass to you for creating a shiny, reflective screen, so I might see my faults. I may be able to check the latest sports scores, email and Facebook on the go, but without that screen, I may never have seen my obligation and purpose played out. Thank you!</div>
cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-78037207921440901902013-03-05T20:31:00.000-08:002013-03-05T20:31:18.894-08:00A Tale of Two Balls: From Fertility to Futility
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<u>A Tale of Two
Balls: From Fertility to Futility<o:p></o:p></u></div>
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By: Balls<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It started off like any other day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We woke up, got scratched and headed out to a
doctor’s appointment of some sort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
we pulled into the parking lot of the local medical clinic, everything seemed
fine, but as we headed in the door, we began to feel a rush of adrenaline.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This wasn’t a new feeling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It reminded us of how we felt before a big
baseball game or when we stood above an important putt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>TODAY WAS GOING TO BE FUN!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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In the waiting room, we began to feel really nervous, but the
feeling quickly subsided, as we remembered how well we’ve been protected over
the last 33 years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we played
baseball, he wore a cup and anytime our kids run towards us, he quickly throws
up a two-handed block.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure we’ve been
knocked around from time to time, but he’s always cared for us, so we weren’t
worried.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Over the next hour, things took a strange twist and before we
knew it, he was laying on a bed talking to a doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither of us could make out what they were
saying, but we could see the whole conversation, which is something we’re not
entirely used to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he was calm, so
again, we were calm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That calm, tranquil
feeling quickly turned to anger, confusion, light-headedness, and pain.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The first thing that really caught our attention was the
doctor gave us a shot this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not the
arm, not the butt, but US!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At this
point, we knew something was about to go terribly wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing either of us saw, before
losing consciousness, was the doctor’s hand coming at us with a knife.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes…A FREAKING KNIFE!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now this wasn’t the first time we had
experienced something like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
“Circumcision” or as I refer to it, the “The Severing of 79,” scared the hell
out of us, but this time, there was no wiggling out of the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>THE KNIFE WAS COMING RIGHT TOWARD US!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Within a flash, there we were hovering above the whole
thing, watching as everything we had ever known was being savagely changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, everyone hears about “Out-of-Ball
Experiences,” but this time it was our Out-of-Ball Experience!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amazed and horrified at the same time, we
watched as the doc, nay…The Butcher, picked up tool after tool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Needles, clamps, knives, scissors…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even this seemed like a ‘Saw’ movie gone
wrong, but there we were watching the whole thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it was physically possible, both of us
would have thrown up right then and there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Needless to say, we could watch no longer, so we dizzily
turned our attention to the big idiot who had walked us into this place and
what was he doing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Calmly discussing
football.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes…FREAKING FOOTBALL and to
top it off, he almost seemed happy at what was going on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same guy who had guarded us countless
times, who had cringed and moaned anytime we were harmed in the past, was now
talking about football as we were being damaged repeatedly!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“HEY CHARLIE!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>DOWN HERE, YOU TRAITOR!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>IT’S
US!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>YOU KNOW THE GUYS WHO HAD A PRETTY
BIG PART IN HELPING TO CREATE 2 OF THOSE 3 KIDS YOU RAVE ABOUT!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>THE TWO WHO ARE PRAISED WHENEVER YOU DO
SOMETHING BRAVE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>DO THE PHRAISES, ‘THAT
TOOK SOME BALLS’ OR ‘MAN, YOU HAVE BALLS OF STEEL’ MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU?!!! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>HELLO!!!!!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And there he sat, not even giving us a courtesy glance, as he continued
to discuss a sport which praises manliness, while our own was being savagely
taken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we pondered how to end our 33
year-long relationship with Gutless Chuck, the pain, anger, and disgust were
too much to handle and we again lost consciousness.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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We awoke in our normal, warm surroundings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was comforting, but we both knew things
would never be the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something deep
inside the two of us had been stolen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
balls, we play a pretty big part in indicating the person we’re a part of is a
man, but we couldn’t have felt less manly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I mean, yeah we felt new, but in an empty sort of way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All we could think about at that point was
how we would be viewed in the future.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Would either of us ever be looked at the same when hanging out in a gym
or pool locker room?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would we be laughed
at, frowned upon or pitied…or maybe, just maybe there were others like us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If so, maybe there’s a support group or we
can all go to counseling together or something!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But how would Right-Side Roger and I ever be able to tell if another set
had encountered the same horrifying thing we did?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can’t talk and clearly can’t do sign
language, so what the hell can we do?!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s been a rough couple of days, since the “Snip Snip,” as
the Big Idiot likes to call it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve
heard plenty of jokes, met Mr. Ice Bag (avoid him if you can), but we’ve also
had a few conversations with the Big Id…ok… with Charlie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He explained that he did what he did for a
reason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Explained a few advantages
resulting from the “procedure,” with the biggest being no more new children excitedly
running up and accidentally head-butting us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I suppose that’s a good thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
think one day, when the images are no longer trapped in our brains, we’ll be
able to forgive him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the meantime, whether
it’s standing over a five-foot putt to win a match or watching a closely
contested sporting event, neither of us look forward to the next adrenaline
filled moment of our lives, as it will no doubt remind us of the “Double-Murder
of 2012.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
PS…Can someone please explain to Charlie and men everywhere,
that when Bob Barker says, “Please spay and neuter you pets,” HE’S NOT REFERING
TO YOUR BALLS!!!<o:p></o:p></div>
<!--EndFragment-->cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3862703091581823040.post-60160647617275124472013-02-17T02:18:00.001-08:002013-02-18T23:13:47.788-08:00Thanks Daisy<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today, and maybe even more so tonight, was pretty frustrating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along with an incredibly busy week at work, we’re doing last minute cosmetic fixes to our house, as it goes on the market Monday morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kicker…Emmy came down with a fever, Becca is sick, and Levi has been up screaming, while grabbing his ears for the last hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What can I say?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The life of a parent is exhilarating!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A fly-by-your-seat joy ride consisting of poopy diapers, sibling fights, whiny children, bill paying, and whatever else you can imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Overall…pure joy.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I hovered over Levi’s crib, stroking his hair with frustration boiling over, it hit me…I’M INCREDIBLY FORTUNATE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Earlier this afternoon, I read a friend’s post on Facebook, “Sad to hear Daisy went to be with Jesus. Praying for the Merricks.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, Daisy is a special girl who’s been on my heart for the last couple months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can read more about her here, </span><a href="http://prayfordaisy.com/"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">http://prayfordaisy.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">, but the gist is this…a child who defeated cancer not once, but twice, only to have a third and ultimate battle with cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The end result?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She went to be with Jesus at 2:40am this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Simply put, my encounter with reality was a huge and deserving kick to the side of my head.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There I was, frustrated with the cards I had been dealt for this one small week of my life, while a family dealt with a loss of a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s right…A CHILD!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m bitching and cursing in my mind about what I may have to deal with over the next 24, possibly 48 hours and someone just lost an immeasurable ray of sunshine in their lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A parent’s worst nightmare, a loss of a dream, a decisive blow in a 3 year-long battle, which they thought they had won twice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An unnerving, stomach pumping, wrestle with God saga and these parents who had just suffered a Titanic-sized punch to the gut, had only these words to say…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">At 2:40am this morning our sweet Daisy went to be with Jesus. She was sleeping and in no pain. Christ is with us as the God of all comfort. We are thankful.<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26)<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Daisy believed this and so do we. More than ever.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Love,<br />The Merricks”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Are you fricken kidding me?!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your child just left this world, along with every hug, kiss, and snuggle you may have ever experienced for the rest of her life, not to mention every funny, joyful thing she could say or ever do and you’re praising God and saying thank you for His comfort?!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not faulting them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I said, it was a huge and deserving kick to the side of my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> [</span>Merrick family, I am SO thankful for your words and example.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t stop praying for you and the affect you will undoubtedly have on those you come in contact with.]<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You see, I’m a very selfish person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know exactly how many selfish thoughts I have in a day, but I have to imagine it’s in the high double-digits, if not triple-digits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much so, that apparently the thought of putting off my weekend ‘To Do List’ to take care of my family and stay up with a sick baby is way too much to comprehend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, big idiot over here!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">That realization led me to this...My life is not my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yup, the motto I was determined to live by ever since adopting our son in March of 2010.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The motto I’ve spoke about with countless people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The motto I wrote about on my wife’s blog (</span><a href="http://bealsclan.blogspot.com/2010/12/are-we-adopting-again.html"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri;">http://bealsclan.blogspot.com/2010/12/are-we-adopting-again.html</span></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The very words I had tattooed on my bicep in Amharic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The meaning of those words and how I’ve lived since taking them on as my life’s goal couldn’t be more different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most people’s biggest hit on Christians is that they are too hypocritical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they’re looking to point a finger at someone, here I am.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let’s take it a step further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My wife, the Incredible Rebecca Beal, has been asking me about adopting again ever since we brought our son home from Ethiopia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’re keeping track, that’s nearly 3 years and for every time she’s brought up the subject, I’ve had a reply having something to do with the following… 1. Let’s wait until... [fill in the blank] 2. It’s a lot of money and we don’t have anything close to that in our bank account.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>3. I’m really not ready for more children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our hands are pretty full as it is.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now I’m not saying number 3 isn’t a valid reason for not having more children, but let me point to a quote from my post on her blog from the above mentioned link…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;">“…</span>“My life is not my own.” Those words never ring so true than when I imagine if something happened to Becca and I, and our children were left with no one to love them, care for them, read to them, or hold them. I would want someone to take them in, no matter the cost or hardship their new parents may face. When I think of our children alone, the conviction can’t be any greater. My life is not my own.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yeah.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you’re keeping track at home, as far as kicks to the side of my head, the count is…Holy Spirit 2, Charlie 0.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Well, I don’t know about you, but for me, two kicks in the head from the Holy Spirit are all I need (most of the time).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I guess that can only mean one thing for this guy (thumb pointed directly at my oversized forehead), it’s time to sell out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, IT’S TIME TO SELL OUT!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve talked the talk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s time to walk the walk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not waiting up all night for my wife to wake up, so we can have this conversation in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And with everything going on right now, I’m not looking forward to taking up a bunch of ‘To Do List’ time tomorrow to have this conversation, but Daisy’s passing has brought me a sense of urgency.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s brought me back to the same fire and urgency I had back on December 13<sup>th</sup>, 2010 when I first wrote “My Life is Not My Own.” That original fire dwindled quickly. It's time to throw on some lighter-fluid and watch it burn like the sands of Bolsa Chica!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Becca, if you’re reading this, this is my unconditional surrender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The white flag is out, I’ve laid down my weapons, and I’m officially a POW of our Savior and all He has for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not saying I’ll sign official adoption documents tomorrow, but when Christ says, “Go,” I’ll go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s bring as many in as He calls us to and let’s do it well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the meantime, let’s have some fun with what He has given us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Daisy’s story has clearly told us, tomorrow is not promised for any of us, so let’s make today count and consider my here-on-out motto, ‘My Life is Not My Own,’ absolute truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ll close with this…It’s amazing what childlike faith can show us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daisy believed she would be healed and guess what…she is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span lang="EN" style="mso-ansi-language: EN;"><em>'Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25-26)'<o:p></o:p></em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Daisy wasn’t concerned with the worries of tomorrow because she wasn't concerned with tomorrow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wasn’t even concerned with herself!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daisy was having fun where she was at…in the moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the videos I’ve seen and her quoted words, I saw a true thankfulness for everyday and a true trust in her Savior…Our Savior.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My Life is Not My Own?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yup!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">PS…In one of the videos on their blog, Daisy says, “Thanks for praying for me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Now, we</span> all speak those words from time to time, but she said it as one who believed those prayers worked…because they did!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those are the prayers that move mountains.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please pray those mountain-moving-prayers for us as we seek Him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you.</span></div>
cbealhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04950825076953997312noreply@blogger.com3