tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42454134971449266022024-03-21T08:52:10.091-07:00Charyse's Bits'N'PiecesThe good and bad bits and pieces of my life!Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-47064260262657773732017-03-20T11:45:00.000-07:002017-03-20T11:45:00.124-07:00Why I'm Choosing Joy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Five weeks ago I returned from a whirlwind weekend of
airplane travel and little sleep. I
arrived home filled with exhaustion, nausea, and vertigo. After some sleep and a few days home I
expected it to subside. When it didn’t I
began investigating other causes and discovered I was pregnant. This was a bit unexpected since we’d chosen
to take a break after three heartbreaking losses. However, while carrying another child isn’t
without trepidation, I’ve decided to choose joy throughout this
pregnancy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Choosing joy isn’t easy.
I fight fear each time I use the bathroom, concerned I might find blood
signaling the end of the little life inside of me. I fight fear whenever I feel a twinge in my
abdomen or whenever I mistake indigestion for cramps. I fight fear daily which is why choosing joy
is so important in the weeks leading up to my due date. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When we feed ourselves with positive thoughts fear has a
harder time invading our lives. I spent
twenty years living a life of fear, scared of every little thing. Most of the time, I wasn’t really
living. In the last five years, I’ve
stepped out of my comfort zone, kicked fear to the curb, and decided to live
instead of watching life pass me by. So
even in a difficult situation I have to look for joy or I’ll never have peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I’ve shared the news with friends and family most people
have responded positively and with promises of prayers.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They’ve taken the time to see how I’m doing
with it emotionally, making sure I’m doing okay.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They’ve taken the time to embrace joy with
me.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you encounter someone
experiencing pregnancy after loss, choose joy with them.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The few who have responded with no joy and a
large dose of negativity cut me deeply.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When a woman becomes pregnant, more often than not she
begins dreaming of her child and its future.
The few who have responded with no joy, a large dose of negativity, and
phrases like, “Wait to see what happens” or “Don’t get your hopes up” are
asking me to not only spend time in a fearful and negative place but they’re
also robbing this child of my hopes and dreams for them. Why does this child not deserve its mother’s
hopes and dreams? Because there’s a
chance it won’t live?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Franchesca Cox is author of <i>Celebrating Pregnancy Again</i>, a
woman who went through a pregnancy after loss.
She writes, “I deserve this. It
is OK to dream. It is OK to hope. Pregnancy can and will be beautiful—for as
many days as that may be.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Will this pregnancy make it to October or end in grief? I do not know. I do know that at this moment in time there
is a child growing inside of me. Just
like with my other four children, I will continue to hope, dream, and pray for
the positive rather than dwelling on the possible negative. This baby’s pregnancy is beautiful—for as
many days as that may be.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-75255896670624320352017-02-15T11:36:00.004-08:002017-02-15T11:36:47.393-08:00Disowning Jesus<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the book of Exodus when the Israelites are fleeing the
Egyptians, they begin to fear for their lives and become upset with Moses for
taking them away from their life of slavery into what appears to be certain
death. This is just before God parts the
Red Sea, allowing the Israelites to escape and the Egyptians to die instead. Moses has to remind them just Who is fighting
on their side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moses answered the people,
“Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you
will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never
see again. The Lord will fight for you;
you need only to be still.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i> ~Exodus
14:13-14~</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was not the first time God had
provided miracles for the Israelites and He has performed countless miracles
since His people wandered in the desert.
Over and over throughout Scripture, people seem to be on the brink of
death or disaster and the Lord comes through and provides. Over and over in my own life, He has
continued to show up and provide miracles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I find myself like Peter and the
rest of the disciples.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These twelve men
were Jesus’ closest friends.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yet it says
in Matthew 26 that Peter disowned Jesus three times as the Lord foretold.</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then
Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: “Before the rooster crows, you will
disown me three times.” And he went
outside and wept bitterly. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i> ~Matthew
26:75~</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And when Jesus was arrested, ALL the
disciples deserted Him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">…Then
all the disciples deserted him and fled.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i> ~Matthew
26:56b~</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus
confided to these men He loved that He was “overwhelmed with sorrow to the
point of death.” He asked Peter, James,
and John to keep watch with Him in His despair.
Yet they fell asleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Watch
and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> ~Matthew
26:41~<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How often do I disown Jesus through my
actions? How often do I fall asleep and
fall into temptation when I should be watching and praying instead? Do I desert Jesus? I’m sure I have on multiple occasions. But the beauty of Jesus’ love for us is that
no matter how often we disown Him, flee from Him, fall asleep on Him, He still
stands up for us, marches up to the cross, stretches out His arms, and dies for
us. That is amazing grace.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-77511384111096089422016-09-13T16:28:00.000-07:002016-09-13T16:28:06.931-07:00The Season I Come Alive<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the time of year I come alive. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve just emerged from a long summer’s
hibernation with my fans, misting spray bottle, and window air conditioner to
be greeted by my favorite time of year:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">fall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In September temperatures fall. God’s majesty shows throughout the Pacific
Northwest in glorious displays of autumn colors. Everything pumpkin spice shows up along with
soup season! I love a good soup! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Football season starts, bringing both the fun of watching
the games on TV and the friendly (or not-so-friendly) competition between the Oregon Ducks and Oregon State Beavers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mt. Angel Oktoberfest takes place with the sounds, sights,
and smells of my childhood tantalizing my senses for four wonderful days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Things take a more academic tone as students head back to
school and relaxed summer schedules happily turn into rhythms and routines.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stores begin to hint (or scream) toward the holidays, just
around the corner, while my planning notebook turns to scheduling family events
and creating budgets for my favorite people’s wish lists along with special
ideas for celebrating my anniversary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After more than six months, community-wide bible studies
commence, bringing in-depth study of the Word, fellowship with groups of
amazing women, and a feeling that I’m right where God has called me to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so I awaken, much more quickly than a grizzly bear, as I
anticipate all the amazing things God does in this season that seems to
represent both change and consistency simultaneously.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I observe and join in my favorite four
months of the year I see God more clearly, realizing that fall is the perfect
representation of the dance of life between God and I:</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He is the epitome of a perfect dancer with
flawless steps and I begin the dance by stepping on His shoes.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The longer we dance, the more I change and
grow closer to Him</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He and I are autumn…consistency and change…as I dance into
my favorite season of the year.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-49619988730589012562016-05-28T21:41:00.000-07:002016-05-28T21:44:21.430-07:00Just Me & My Swimsuit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8Gq3p-YxPK3KQ_VFLencR-Y9AE1zL3OUeLGow0M7eu2TMzESzbHGVRaos7ptfiRtR5cMbM6gDJpH0EOBtr5cTtYi9x8WBTIAtL5CHYtNFn2TOvNjHeoDCH0A49LKIrm6sXnNxPqrAEE/s1600/IMG_3899.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8Gq3p-YxPK3KQ_VFLencR-Y9AE1zL3OUeLGow0M7eu2TMzESzbHGVRaos7ptfiRtR5cMbM6gDJpH0EOBtr5cTtYi9x8WBTIAtL5CHYtNFn2TOvNjHeoDCH0A49LKIrm6sXnNxPqrAEE/s320/IMG_3899.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Today I took my daughter to a birthday party for one of her
friends. Little Miss was so very excited
to go because this party was a pool party.
Rented pool, lots of people I know…<b><i>and me in my swimsuit</i></b>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My swimsuit isn’t immodest; it has black legging shorts and
a purple patterned top. No midriff. No upper thighs. And I wear a pair of old green regular shorts
over top of all that. <i><b>Just me in my
swimsuit.<o:p></o:p></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Kaley Cuoco on Instagram</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">There were about thirty kids in the water. Maybe ten moms on the sidelines. One dad in the pool with a preschooler. <i><b>And me in my swimsuit</b></i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yesterday I was telling my husband I was considering not swimming. My daughter insisted. And I didn’t have a good reason. The group was nowhere near the cap on people
in the pool. My daughter isn’t the best
swimmer yet. No excuses. <b><i>Just me in my swimsuit.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So I packed my swim bag.
Flip flops. Beach towel. Green ratty shorts. <b><i>And me in my swimsuit</i></b>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At the pool I hesitated.
When I realized most adults weren’t even getting in the water, I really
did not want to. I wanted to sit and
make chit chat with moms. I wanted to
sit on the sidelines like all the other moms.
I wanted to keep my clothes ON and not bare my
arms/shoulders/chest/back. But I slowly
started changing my clothes, keeping the most of myself covered up. There I was…<b><i>me in my swimsuit</i></b>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I led my daughter through the locker room, showered, and
opened the door. I was standing on the
pool deck…<b><i>just me in my swimsuit</i></b>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I could have disappointed my daughter. I could have made the choice and just said no
to my daughter. But I knew that was
wrong. I’d be teaching my daughter all
the wrong things. Giving up. Hiding from the world. Being ashamed of your body. Fear over fun. Letting others dictate what you enjoy. So I waded into the pool…<i><b>me in my swimsuit</b></i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I love swimming. The
smell of chlorine hitting my nose as I felt the water around me was a euphoric
experience for me. As I played with my
daughter the water mostly covered me to my shoulders anyway. I could have missed that if I’d listened to
the fear and insecurity telling me to cover myself up. So there I was…more than 200 pounds
overweight, playing with my daughter in the water…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">…<b><i>just me in my swimsuit</i></b>.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>Just Me! </i></div>
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<i>(Not in my swimsuit...I was in the water, I couldn't take a picture!)</i></div>
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Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-4545647102080019482016-02-18T20:29:00.000-08:002016-02-18T20:29:57.347-08:00Because I Know...<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’ve always felt sad when the news would pass my ears of a
child dying through illness, accident, miscarriage, stillbirth, etc. It’s the feeling you have when you see a
story on the five o’clock news of someone dying prematurely. But it was just a fleeting sadness. If it was a friend or acquaintance I might
send a card or a meal, give a hug, check in with them for a week or two.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Recently a person I’ve never met that I don’t really know
posted that his daughter died at 97 days old from Trisotomy 18. I instantly teared up. Thinking about it, tears are welling up in my eyes. Because I know. I know what it feels like to have part of
your heart ripped from your chest. I
know what it’s like to have a piece of you taken away until Heaven. I’ve cried those tears and mourned that
loss. I know.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When my baby girl died last December, the most comforting
person was my grandma. She lost a child
two and a half years before I was born. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So when my baby died, she knew. She cherished the photos from the hospital
and the hand and footprints. She gave me
a special ornament for my tree that year. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">More than any family member, she checked in with me. Most family wouldn’t even speak to me about
my baby after we buried her or the two that followed. She knows
better. She’s cried those tears, mourned
that loss, walked that road for 33 years before I started walking it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On Memorial Day weekend I was at my mom and dad’s where we had
buried our baby girl. I took a small
flower I’d purchased to place on her grave for both Memorial Day and because it
was almost her due date. There was
already a flower decorating Faith’s grave.
I knew instantly from the arrangement and type of flowers it was from my
grandma. Six months later, she remembered.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She heard about donating wedding dresses to organizations
that make dresses for stillborn babies.
Not only did she want to donate her 50+ year old dress, she wanted to
share it with me and honor Faith in that way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Grandma was the most supportive family member I
encountered. Because she knows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I share my losses, my grief, and my journey to healing to
help others who find themselves in my situation. When I hear about the loss of a child, I do
all I can for them. Most importantly, I
honor their loss and recognize that their child existed. Because I know.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-41406627230652957452016-02-17T19:30:00.001-08:002016-02-25T14:33:28.065-08:00When The Answer To Prayer Is No<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh77GpEbCvDOKBnb5toNTebLanGsJZHOIvawFsV2VDQSVwuRh7zBqtlpYj-fDQ7OtTl1Bg4Ible7ZJNO2wQHHEZdu0QiRE3fi-Z9WCrV-ZFTrRNMgPc6Zmy7G5Zpt7o6cuZsCpt3rTNNw8/s1600/015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh77GpEbCvDOKBnb5toNTebLanGsJZHOIvawFsV2VDQSVwuRh7zBqtlpYj-fDQ7OtTl1Bg4Ible7ZJNO2wQHHEZdu0QiRE3fi-Z9WCrV-ZFTrRNMgPc6Zmy7G5Zpt7o6cuZsCpt3rTNNw8/s320/015.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have been enjoying Priscilla Shirer's Armor of God study; my group is on week 5. I'm showing War Room at our church on Saturday afternoon because it's a great movie on the power of prayer. I've taken a trifold posterboard and turned it into my own personal War Board (my house is too small for a prayer closet or something like that.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But I think when we talk about the power of prayer we forget that sometimes we send up a petition and the answer is no. God isn't trying to punish us, although it feels like it. Today I want to talk about what I learned when God said no to my most heartfelt prayer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On December 13, 2014 at 2 o’clock in the morning, 15 weeks 1
day into my pregnancy my water broke.
Ultrasounds revealed a heartbeat and less than 5% chance of survival. I
went into prayer mode. Family was
praying. Our church was praying. Other friends were praying. About 500 members of my Facebook group were
praying. Close to 1,000 people were
praying for a miracle for my baby. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I prayed and was prayed over for 9 days. Then, December 22, 2014 at 3:50 pm, 16 weeks
3 days pregnant I lost my baby girl. We
went home from the hospital and spent the next few days going through the
motions of Christmas for the sake of our oldest. The next Sunday we buried our child on the
hill at my parents’ property.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">God didn’t answer my prayer.
He didn’t answer the prayer of almost 1,000 people. Nine days of praying and believing for a
miracle. He didn’t answer, at least not
in the way I’d been asking. Instead of
healing my baby, God allowed my baby to die.
His answer to my prayer request was no.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’d made it through the death.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’d made it through Christmas.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’d made it through the burial.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was looking at a new year completely lost
and unsure of where to go, what to do, how to move forward with my life.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I didn’t know anything.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All I knew how to do was to pray.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I told God I couldn’t do this. I had no idea what to do. I said, “God, You have to tell me what to
do. I can’t do this. You have to tell me what to do because I have
no clue how to keep going.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And God answered my prayer by giving me four instructions, asking me to have an active faith, as Priscilla puts it. He told me to go outside and walk every
day. He told me to ask our associate
pastor, Nicole, if she needed help with the women’s Bible study. He told me to keep going to the Sunday night
class I was taking. He told me I could
take one month off from the Toddler room where I was a regular volunteer, one
month and no more. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He told me to do all
these things and I knew it loud and clear. I wanted to curl up in a ball and cry all day long. I wanted to be mad at Him and stop believing in Him. But I knew better. I knew that I would either curl up and die inside my grief or I would follow His directions and find healing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I went outside and walked and in a few months I’d walked
over 100 miles. I walked and then I
started writing about walking and people started telling me they were being
inspired by my walking. So I kept
walking and I kept writing about it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I asked Nicole if she needed help with the women’s Bible
study. She was overbooked and
overextended and I stepped in and learned how to lead a Bible study. I was terrified to get up in front of the group and lead but I did it anyway. This is the third study I’ve led and the first study where I wasn't scared to get up in front of the group and lead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I kept going to my Sunday night class and through reading,
class discussions, prayer from others, and a more positive devotional time I
discovered a deeper faith than I’d even known existed. In my study I started writing a devotional
for women who’ve experienced baby loss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I went back to the Toddler room and worked with the children
in there. I was eventually moved to the
Preschool room and then I was given a job with the church as the preschool room
coordinator. After searching for a
decent curriculum for the class, I’m now working on writing a preschool level
curriculum for Sunday school that’s affordable for most churches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">God told me no to the most heartfelt, pleading, intense
prayer I’ve ever had.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’m not the only one whose prayer request was given a
no. In the book of Genesis, Joseph
suffers at the hand of his brothers. But
in the end he was able to say “Don’t be afraid.
Am I in the place of God? You
intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now
being done, the saving of many lives.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4akM_-kplC9jcsITaDcEjKK7A0VLtNU-qpcGihRvFn_8DMp6-tosS1FIuNTHTKrdfIeP3-Sa6Ew-2XTTledenQUh_OkujIBm0PEokpy5qUaDschjMGE31M6lPtAaCgsqAAWH_GLnm64g/s1600/IMG_0416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4akM_-kplC9jcsITaDcEjKK7A0VLtNU-qpcGihRvFn_8DMp6-tosS1FIuNTHTKrdfIeP3-Sa6Ew-2XTTledenQUh_OkujIBm0PEokpy5qUaDschjMGE31M6lPtAaCgsqAAWH_GLnm64g/s1600/IMG_0416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4akM_-kplC9jcsITaDcEjKK7A0VLtNU-qpcGihRvFn_8DMp6-tosS1FIuNTHTKrdfIeP3-Sa6Ew-2XTTledenQUh_OkujIBm0PEokpy5qUaDschjMGE31M6lPtAaCgsqAAWH_GLnm64g/s200/IMG_0416.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In Mark 14:36, Jesus prayed, “Abba, Father, everything is
possible for you. Take this cup from
me. Yet not what I will, but what you
will.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Even Jesus, knowing that He was sent to save mankind, asked
God to take the cup from Him. God told
Him no and through Jesus’ death and resurrection we are given a place in
Heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I'm not saying we're going to achieve what Jesus did. But if we will do what God has asked us to do despite what He's allowed to happen to us, we can see amazing things happen.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Recently God spoke to my heart. He said, "Baby girl, I love you. I wanted to answer your prayer and I know your heart will grieve for your baby girl until you get to Heaven. If I didn't need you to go through this more than I needed her on earth, I would've answered your prayer. What I'm doing through this is so important I need you to walk through this. But I will never leave your side as you walk this road. When it's too hard for you to walk I will carry you. I only intend this for good. Just stick with it and there will be fruit."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When God says no to one prayer, don’t quit asking Him for
help and guidance. His no is intended
for good…for the saving of many lives. I
will hold my baby girl in my arms again.
But if she hadn’t died I wouldn’t have asked God to tell me what to
do. I wouldn’t have been listening when
He walked me down the path He created for me.</span></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-73145155019178208632016-02-02T07:45:00.000-08:002016-02-17T20:32:17.838-08:00I Saw The Shadow on Groundhog Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWU6N6JQddX4ezAOtppNuqVExgPXyqZU1MLfP70ZtI7Kpu-_hbkeMfBnzTwSd3s2wU_tCe9WwwagTwWOqWJ9M4QpyvSnDmcCBsqNsYKniS9sbfevk3qw9vYcnRVVRGiBwHXY29OBplU0E/s1600/Devo-4-21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWU6N6JQddX4ezAOtppNuqVExgPXyqZU1MLfP70ZtI7Kpu-_hbkeMfBnzTwSd3s2wU_tCe9WwwagTwWOqWJ9M4QpyvSnDmcCBsqNsYKniS9sbfevk3qw9vYcnRVVRGiBwHXY29OBplU0E/s320/Devo-4-21.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’ve been walking again.
</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It’s not daily and I’m only walking half a mile.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Takes me less than fifteen minutes in the
morning.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Later in the day when my
daycare kids are all happy and fed, I might pop them in the wagon and do the
walk again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This morning after reading my devotions I started to get
ready to walk and I felt a bit nauseated.
Yesterday when I started to get ready to clean my house I felt so
lightheaded that not even sitting made it subside; I had to curl up and close
my eyes to make it go away. I lost more
than two hours of my day fighting the lightheadedness. Thursday night, I had a nasty stomach bug
that kept me on the couch all day Friday with fever and achiness</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So this morning as I got ready to walk I started to feel
frustrated. Then I used what I’d been
reading about (The Belt of Truth) and I looked at the truth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The truth was that there wasn’t anything in my stomach to
make me nauseous except a little bit of water.
The feeling likely came from me starting to get hungry and it wasn’t
anything I needed to skip a walk for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1L_Yj2Y9iud7zs7CqyhU_5MlTbPuZMjCsSIYIHfUhgo8Ds5Sq7X_J-WJFA6XnhLyNLvSwH7NwJk1DxYLItSELd4GPvDvw09AhzYXoQlWcjDUO6S2WBg40xyfq31iDhyphenhyphenGh8-UhS-zQEI/s1600/groundhog-day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX1L_Yj2Y9iud7zs7CqyhU_5MlTbPuZMjCsSIYIHfUhgo8Ds5Sq7X_J-WJFA6XnhLyNLvSwH7NwJk1DxYLItSELd4GPvDvw09AhzYXoQlWcjDUO6S2WBg40xyfq31iDhyphenhyphenGh8-UhS-zQEI/s200/groundhog-day.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was then that I saw the shadow.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I know the groundhog didn’t this morning but
I sure did.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Fortunately, the shadow I
saw can’t hold a candle to the God I serve.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The shadow I saw was satan, trying to take me from the path that God has set before me, one where I invest in relationship, invest in my
health, and invest in God.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Satan doesn’t
like this new kick I’m on where relationship, my health, and my God are my
priorities.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Because I’m doing what God
wants.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I saw the shadow.
When I measured it against the truth, against the light, I realized that
this shadow is tiny, scrawny, and kind of rodent-like, similar to that annoying
groundhog. And I decided to walk. I pulled on my coat and headed out the door
to see what God had for me in the big, bright world. Once I stepped outside the cold air relieved
that nauseous feeling almost keeping me home and I found messages from God as
my senses came alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I saw my new neighbors, just moved in over the last week,
said good morning, and made a mental note to bring them some baking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I smelled someone’s wood fire and remembered to work on
planning that camping trip in early September.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I heard vehicles being started, doors opening and closing,
children walking to school, people saying farewell for the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As I walked, I was able to observe the daily ritual of the
world waking up. I turned the third
corner on my walk and saw light…the sun wasn’t up just yet but between the top
of the mountains in the east and the clouds above I could see the light from
the sun, waking up and starting a new day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I walked past the house of the lady who sits on her front
porch, smokes, and greets my daughter and I joyfully anytime we walk past and
missed seeing her this morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I walked past the house of the man who has caused so many
problems for our family in the six years we’ve lived here and wondered just how
I can reach out to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Finally, I turned into my long driveway and I noticed that
the path that was much darker on the way out was much brighter on the way back
in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I saw the shadow. I
exposed him to the Light and he fled. Instead
I opened myself up to what God had for me and I found a world waiting just outside
my front door.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-33622810684202764072015-12-22T11:05:00.000-08:002015-12-22T11:05:08.310-08:00Happy Birthday Faith: One Year Later<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOW9TAtPodGh3pdF9R9q4vajPtZ_ayFQZHmvrQcR2yhGhi408J-tY5YWtXyed6oZoOwjEI8Aca38I606FQrwjrzKoBGkfxnkB3cjtF6q1e_nV0Xk8pUA8JieR6RxqGmirgrkoLoyJez6s/s1600/019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOW9TAtPodGh3pdF9R9q4vajPtZ_ayFQZHmvrQcR2yhGhi408J-tY5YWtXyed6oZoOwjEI8Aca38I606FQrwjrzKoBGkfxnkB3cjtF6q1e_nV0Xk8pUA8JieR6RxqGmirgrkoLoyJez6s/s320/019.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happy birthday, Faith! It's been one year since I labored, delivered, and held you in my arms. It was different from when your sister was born. She came into the world with cries, her bright blue eyes looking at each of us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you were born, your eyes never opened. They never looked at Mommy who loves you so much. They never had a chance to look adoringly at a big sister who waited for years on your arrival. Your teeny, tiny fingers never grasped mine with surprising force. When you were born you were already with Jesus in Heaven.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXDpP_M_5W3wdxG3CkiSjeLO-qu66dNxjjX8C3nX115hTurPcfBNEsYv1GyFo7z05sodtSDlpdmqiDnmxqdfLoi-yF5Zy7lcHwD7ciJ7UFwyRrEWbgdcL3xmuyQkGfKRG2uZZQNa8Iw4/s1600/IMG_20150129_125020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXDpP_M_5W3wdxG3CkiSjeLO-qu66dNxjjX8C3nX115hTurPcfBNEsYv1GyFo7z05sodtSDlpdmqiDnmxqdfLoi-yF5Zy7lcHwD7ciJ7UFwyRrEWbgdcL3xmuyQkGfKRG2uZZQNa8Iw4/s200/IMG_20150129_125020.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think about you daily, baby girl, and I'll never forget you. Your sister scolded your daddy yesterday for saying something that reminded me of you. I told her that it was okay because a mother never forgets. She is always with me. You are always with me. Reese and Wynn are always with me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do you play with Reese and Wynn? Did you welcome them to Heaven with open arms? Do you sit at the feet of Jesus and listen to him read you stories? Jesus loves children so I imagine He might. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Are you a child in Heaven? Did you enter the pearly gates as a tiny baby and slowly grow? Or did you enter Heaven more adult-like? I have so many questions. But in my imagination, I see you as a small child.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think about what this Christmas season would be like if you'd lived, sweet Faith. There would be more presents under the tree because you would be with us. It would be much busier as I tried to get my baking, shopping, wrapping, and cleaning done with an infant but it would be filled with so much love.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You'd be almost seven months old. When you'd catch sight of Sarah, you'd giggle and smile just like your cousin does when he sees her. You'd be rolling over and sitting up, starting baby food and spitting it everywhere when you didn't like it. You'd be interested in moving but still small enough to snuggle easily.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm2iknDWv8yRWxoQRe7t9AOfU9JAgwFvmrcE4wAUrjf_0XSMavBucqoNil2UbRJE6kdMJnKnLsPfHZ1GF6tk_M-QdcR4r6QMAN2qBAEGz3bEodxm8L4cMl0jbA-svKj-Jayu89dW5X6kc/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm2iknDWv8yRWxoQRe7t9AOfU9JAgwFvmrcE4wAUrjf_0XSMavBucqoNil2UbRJE6kdMJnKnLsPfHZ1GF6tk_M-QdcR4r6QMAN2qBAEGz3bEodxm8L4cMl0jbA-svKj-Jayu89dW5X6kc/s200/016.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you were here, though, Reese wouldn't have had a chance to exist. Wynn would've never shown up on an ultrasound. And I probably would've turned down quite a few things as a new mommy that God is currently calling me to do. When God is done with what He wants me to accomplish here, He'll bring me home to you, Reese, and Wynn. Daddy and Sarah will join us at some point, too. It seems so long to me here on earth but to you it probably doesn't seem that long. Faith, you know so much more than me just by being with Him!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mommy still cries sometimes. But most of the time my tears have been replaced with joyful anticipation of holding you in my arms again and the realization that I have a mission here on earth given to me by God. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So Happy Birthday, my second daughter, my Faith Leanne, my sweet baby girl. Mommy loves you and I'll be home when God is ready.</span>Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-22653105148996098202015-10-08T16:17:00.000-07:002015-10-08T16:17:16.812-07:00Be Aware<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYNQMApzajFWzg9rGyqMnKG-Ady-VK1QebtVvAMLZ9jwrR66vGm4Kw45NUniKQZh6yVSU3EOZoC6QkPr4Qd7c-wai-PqgxOSBbI8SfdQ6xt_Y1M4gU1e1Ivld_oD1WMIsBILGfV8Ko9Q/s1600/Be+Aware.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYNQMApzajFWzg9rGyqMnKG-Ady-VK1QebtVvAMLZ9jwrR66vGm4Kw45NUniKQZh6yVSU3EOZoC6QkPr4Qd7c-wai-PqgxOSBbI8SfdQ6xt_Y1M4gU1e1Ivld_oD1WMIsBILGfV8Ko9Q/s400/Be+Aware.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">October is a month of awareness. According to Wikipedia, there are
twenty-eight things to be aware of this month, more than any other month of the
year. May is in second place, with 19,
and September has 16 things to think about.
December has none. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The list for October is long and some of them I’ve never
heard of. You’d have to live under a
rock to miss Breast Cancer awareness. As
a former teacher, I always planned a fire safety unit during fire prevention
month. I’m aware of pit bulls and just
how cute and poorly treated they are.
While I am neither Hispanic nor Italian, I love their food and appreciate
them. I support bullying prevention and
I’m aware of domestic violence. I love
my Pastors and plan on appreciating them this month as well. I even knew it was Dwarfism awareness month
(thanks, Katie!).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some of these are fun and some of them strike a certain
passion in people. Awareness is an
important thing. I will wear pink if I’m
going to a sporting event in October. I
am committed to ending bullying and domestic violence. I’m not one to discriminate against someone
because of their Italian or Hispanic heritage (I’m more likely to invite myself
over for dinner!). I know just how
capable people living with Dwarfism can be (and not from reality TV
shows). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<img alt="Footprints on Our Hearts: " height="320" src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/22/8c/3e/228c3e9a307ba44e782b7ff4fcc36930.jpg" width="257" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know about these things because others have shared so that
I might be aware. I’m thankful for that
because while we can’t contribute to every worthy cause out there, we can be
aware that it exists. Awareness months exist
to promote one major thing:
awareness. Yes, raising money for
that awareness is good and helping people is important, too. But if people aren’t even aware, how can
those other things happen?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Everyone has their one thing they are passionate about, the
one thing they want to raise awareness about.
(If you don’t, maybe this month is a good month, when there are so many
options for awareness and involvement!) All
the above being said, I want to share the thing I am passionate about this
month. October, among many other things,
is National Infant Loss and Miscarriage Awareness Month.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is my passion.
Too many women are forced to suffer the pain and heartbreak of
miscarriage or infant loss alone because there is a general rule that you don’t
talk about it. My conversations with
family members about my losses are often redirected to other topics because
others just don’t want to hear it.
Unfortunately to the grieving mother, ignoring the loss or minimizing it
makes the hurt worse. Others are allowed
and often expected to share their children.
I have four children but by the standards of our society today, I have
but one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Attitudes like this seem to minimize the lives of Faith,
Reese, and Wynn, my sweet babies in Heaven.
But they did live. I saw them on
the ultrasound screen. I saw two of
their heartbeats. I felt Wynn and Faith
leave my body. I held Faith after she
died and kissed her tiny but perfectly formed fingers with the miniscule nails. Just today I pinned a book on Pinterest
called “I Didn’t Miscarry Her…She Died”.
I’m anxious to read it because that’s how I feel. When we use the words miscarriage or
stillbirth, we minimize what truly happened.
My babies died, three babies, all in Heaven with Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<img alt="our children change us, whether they live or not.: " src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/90/d2/87/90d2873c647e1e5703da121ba5cf36c0.jpg" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Be aware. Don’t
minimize the loss. Don’t pretend it didn’t
happen. Don’t expect the mother who lost
a baby to forget about it or be quiet about it.
Honor the baby who did live and then died, no matter how few weeks
along. My baby that died at six weeks is
just as much my child as my seven year old daughter dancing through my living
room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It might make you a little uncomfortable. Can you give up a bit of your comfort to
comfort a grieving mother? Because while
we might heal, grieving mothers never quit mourning the loss of their child.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-91976190198184622015-09-08T16:14:00.000-07:002015-09-08T16:15:44.292-07:00Worshipping Him When I'm Angry With Him<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0DBzCohExuJEkzdh7LzohTMcSlJqFedpChuDM1r-4EAtp6jcwdre0EardTemZL9oP1wKsFIEQN99CxTSKkXbEP7qMebs84eMShk7R8vR3iJt9RhpFn8_SY7sCEZYwcnB7a8-aWL3U50/s1600/Worship+Title.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj0DBzCohExuJEkzdh7LzohTMcSlJqFedpChuDM1r-4EAtp6jcwdre0EardTemZL9oP1wKsFIEQN99CxTSKkXbEP7qMebs84eMShk7R8vR3iJt9RhpFn8_SY7sCEZYwcnB7a8-aWL3U50/s320/Worship+Title.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s 10:45 on Sunday morning. Most weeks at this time you can find me in
one of two places: the children’s wing
or the sanctuary of my church. Today is
no exception as I stand next to my husband while the familiar music
starts. Usually worship is my favorite
thing ever. I could sing along to praise
and worship music for hours. But today I’m
not feeling it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because today I’m mad
at God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m mad at God and I’ve spent two weeks avoiding speaking to
Him. Because two weeks ago He let my third
baby die.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I’m still standing here.
I’m still singing the words on the screen to my Savior. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I sing along, the dialogue of a thirteen year old mouths
off at God in my head.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Yes, I know He
can hear my thoughts.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just didn’t want
to horrify the nice older couple to my left by speaking them out loud.)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1M9LefV9aV6CxVhy90Nmg2rwbRThHMfgmubGtl-hQKfV6StiToh6gv_JlUXro8Q5QX8bvkGPTnxdeZC4j9GNcrO9q68nWlUsrwIXdgYfK91_7I9frAYpa93CKwHBFgQkpAo_zQN2jnoU/s1600/worship+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1M9LefV9aV6CxVhy90Nmg2rwbRThHMfgmubGtl-hQKfV6StiToh6gv_JlUXro8Q5QX8bvkGPTnxdeZC4j9GNcrO9q68nWlUsrwIXdgYfK91_7I9frAYpa93CKwHBFgQkpAo_zQN2jnoU/s200/worship+4.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We’re singing Hillsong’s “Here I Am To Worship” as I mouth
off to God reminiscent of a hormonal teenager…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here I am to worship…Here I am to bow down…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>I don’t really want to
bow down to you right now, not after what you let happen to me.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Altogether lovely, altogether worthy, altogether wonderful
to me…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You don’t feel so
wonderful, God. This does not feel
wonderful at all. I don’t feel
thankful. I don’t feel freedom in You.</span></i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This continues for all of the worship portion of the
service. I stand and sing praises to God
while mouthing off to Him in my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite my anger, I’m still singing praises. Despite my anger, I still showed up on Sunday
morning. I still encouraged women to
come to the new Bible study I’m leading this fall. I still planned with my friend and co-leader
to make the Bible study successful and meaningful for the women who
attend. Some days I get my Bible out and
read it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I can’t bring myself to directly talk to Him, unless I’m
mouthing off. I’m not ready yet. So I just stand and sing praises.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAc1h3LXethuZ3BPac93muiKNZpg41j09D83ywdSzv2lHzQtAD-JK4RObOfPPh_Bq3N8A-bXoJkUWMGx5MK4E_RTGi585HOxe8C4PWWH6n7krB-S0EVrbjLC5NxmYp30JcA0WUI2RoNk/s1600/Worship+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNAc1h3LXethuZ3BPac93muiKNZpg41j09D83ywdSzv2lHzQtAD-JK4RObOfPPh_Bq3N8A-bXoJkUWMGx5MK4E_RTGi585HOxe8C4PWWH6n7krB-S0EVrbjLC5NxmYp30JcA0WUI2RoNk/s200/Worship+3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because I know…I know He’s still there. The Jesus I asked into my heart thirteen years ago has
NEVER left me or forsaken me. God is
still good and has good plans for me.
The Bible is still the truth. I
live in a fallen world where bad things happen.
Babies die before they take a breath, not just mine but the babies of
many mothers. Horrific crashes kill
innocent people. Cancers eat away at the
bodies of the best kind of people. Yes,
God can do miracles. But none of us were
meant to live forever, at least not here on Earth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Someday my husband, my daughter, myself, we will all die and
be reunited with three innocent babies in Heaven. In the meantime, God has plans for me and He
will use this loss, this pain, this struggle for good. I don’t know how. But I know He will.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How? How can I
know? I know because He’s done it
before. I know because I spent twenty
years under a dark cloud of anxiety and depression only to be completely healed
and at peace in my heart. I know because
out of a sinful union came the most beautiful, precocious daughter and an
amazing marriage. I know because each
time the enemy tries to knock me down, God sends an army of love my way,
believers and non-believers both, to remind me that the people I’ve surrounded
myself with want to support and help my family through each difficulty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So someday I’ll live in a place where death has NO
hold. Someday my husband and daughter
will, too. We’ve prayed to Jesus. We’ve told Him thank you for His gift of life
and asked for forgiveness. We’ve been
reborn. We’re just not living in the
world we were reborn for. My babies are
waiting for me and when God’s plans for me are finished, I’ll join them in
Heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGE88WljOIFipOFHgLdDV3Cra3BK0bX6nJlsruDdAJGcTwJhGTTRhJnmDynd_0NAh7xIfJQwrMnn1El2Ut5abVg2C43XBnu9uqHYC9knB4OGHnMSqJSF83MqwRYJOjRL8XpI4Kpaue-I4/s1600/worship+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGE88WljOIFipOFHgLdDV3Cra3BK0bX6nJlsruDdAJGcTwJhGTTRhJnmDynd_0NAh7xIfJQwrMnn1El2Ut5abVg2C43XBnu9uqHYC9knB4OGHnMSqJSF83MqwRYJOjRL8XpI4Kpaue-I4/s200/worship+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God does have great plans for me.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He’s carrying me through the tough
times.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know this.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And sometime soon I know He and I will talk it out and His arms of comfort, mercy, and grace will wrap around me. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But right now I’m still feeling angry.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I’m going to stand there and sing
praises.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But inside, I’m thirteen and I’ve
slammed my bedroom door.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s okay, though. My
Father in Heaven is big enough to handle me.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-78891967370877817212015-08-10T16:15:00.000-07:002015-08-10T16:15:50.071-07:00Holding Her Tightly and Loosely<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbHQFlg-1ORWiGL4snow6zJ7bFpMjyGW_fpIornEYpCFWUTu81wVr4SN4lzs-pC9qhfllbYjJWwkJV2QA3kPh39YMSYdAnOWe3MW6NN59zIxvlCEEMDWRafCqNf6fzaqBElLAeWvdWmE/s1600/Tightly+and+Loosely.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUbHQFlg-1ORWiGL4snow6zJ7bFpMjyGW_fpIornEYpCFWUTu81wVr4SN4lzs-pC9qhfllbYjJWwkJV2QA3kPh39YMSYdAnOWe3MW6NN59zIxvlCEEMDWRafCqNf6fzaqBElLAeWvdWmE/s320/Tightly+and+Loosely.jpg" width="201" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Messy ponytail...glasses slipping down her nose...giggling smile on her face...my heart skips a beat at the sight of this girl child...</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I read <a href="http://www.scarymommy.com/articles/the-weekend-mom?section=youre-a-damn-good-mom&u=IntQd1jrRT" target="_blank">an article today</a> about a woman who was a 'weekend mom', whose ex-husband had custody of their daughter. The woman wrote about how this was the best decision for her daughter and then began to list all the ways it was better for her own life. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was phrased very eloquently, but what it essentially boiled down to was this: there was no "inconvenience" keeping her from going out drinking all hours of the night, traveling wherever she wants, and staying up late talking with various friends. I found it sad that the life of her daughter was boiled down to an inconvenience. And I thought that perhaps her daughter's life is better, despite this woman's primary concern being only herself. I also wondered if this little girl would feel the suffering effects of a mother who wants only the fun parts of motherhood and is unwilling to suffer through the hard.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She snuggles up against me, emotions spent after having an argument with the cat. She's just returned from ten minutes pouting in her room and I hold her close, feeling my precious firstborn still yearning for the comfort of her mother's arms. This girl and I, we've been through the good: birthday parties, Christmas, trips to the beach, reading the Ramona books together as we laugh over her escapades. This girl and I have been through the hard stuff, too, stuff I can't shield her from.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My firstborn girl child, oldest of four, still living as an only child after seven and a half years. She'll be almost eight before my fourth child makes an appearance in this world. Two babies lost, not just to me or my husband. Two babies lost to the little girl who has been excited about having a sibling since she was three and her little friend Sophie was getting a baby. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This eldest daughter of mine has seen three siblings on the ultrasound screen. Her sister Faith did flips and waved at her twelve weeks into pregnancy. Five weeks later, the older sister holds her baby sister's lifeless body in her arms. It is Christmas Eve. Three months later, on her seventh birthday, she will see the body of her second sibling on the ultrasound screen, lifeless once again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This child rapidly growing up too quickly for me clings to me as I comfort her. Despite the traumas she's experienced, she finds herself hopeful for this new baby. She clings to her faith in God, childlike and leaps and bounds ahead of my own faith simultaneously. I hold her tight in the arms she knows to be a safe place. I hold her tightly against the struggles of this life, even something as simple as an argument with a cat over a box.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the same time as I hold her tightly, I must also hold her loosely. She is not really mine. She is a gift, loaned to me for a time. If there's anything I've learned from losing two of her siblings, it's that my children are not always going to be with me. Whether she moves away for college, gets married, moves off to a foreign country to minister to the world, or when that time comes that one of us goes to Heaven while the other is left to wait here on earth...there will be separation. Because she's not mine. She's His. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She belongs to the Lord she gave her heart to almost exactly two years ago. She belongs to the Lord she gave testimony to as she stepped into the baptismal waters, dying to sin and rising up to new life. She belongs to the Lord she knows so much about...much more than me when we have theological discussions. She belongs to the Lord whom she accepts with the most childlike innocence, despite the trauma life has brought.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She's not an inconvenience. She's a complex, beautiful, intelligent child and as I type this I watch her head poking out of the box of a microwave we bought two months ago. I can't help but pray the years don't pass too quickly. But I know better. The first seven and a half have already gone too quickly. So I hold her tightly when she's snuggled up in my arms. But I have to hold her loosely, too. Because she's not mine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She is the adopted princess of the King.</span>Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-63031048420312864612015-08-07T13:22:00.000-07:002015-08-07T13:22:13.482-07:00My Thoughts on Pregnancy After Miscarriage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, it happened. We got two pink lines! At the beginning of March, we are expecting a beautiful miracle to come screaming into this world! It has been almost four years since we began trying to conceive a sibling for our daughter. In that four year period, we have conceived. Three times, actually. The first two never lived outside the womb. The third is currently growing beneath my heart.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Beneath my heart, I've nestled four children. One of them keeps me busy all day. I was blessed to be able to hold my second child, Faith, after delivery although she had not survived. I did not even know about my third child, Reese, until I was miscarrying. Then there's this fourth little bean growing steadily along after two ultrasounds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm thrilled. I have dreamed about this child in it's infancy twice already. I've also spent some time feeling terrified. It's much more of an emotional struggle to be pregnant after losing a baby. I had a hard time believing it was real until we went to our first appointment. I was 6 weeks, 1 day along and I woke up early to spend some time with God before I went to the doctor. I needed to find some peace. The following verse struck me as important that morning:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Brothers and sisters, as an example of patience in the face of suffering, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. As you know, we count as blessed those who have persevered. You have heard of Job's perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i> -James 5:10-11-</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt strangely comforted. I didn't feel like God was telling me this child would live or die. But instead what I felt was peace. God's peace had permeated my heart and I knew that no matter what I would be able to persevere. I also knew that no matter what, the Lord is full of compassion and mercy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My perseverance may come from nine months of waiting on a child, counting the milestones...8 weeks...10 weeks...end of the first trimester...past the 16 week mark when Faith died...when the baby would be viable outside the womb...third trimester...counting down all those days, feeling more encouraged after passing each one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or my perseverance may come from another loss. I know that. I pray regularly for this baby to be safe. I also know my risk factors (obesity, previous losses) give me just a slightly higher chance of loss again. At this point it's a less than 5% chance. But it's there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm walking through my days, rejoicing in the life that grows inside me and dreaming of what life will be like with this child. I'm pinning baby things, I'm sharing with family and friends, I'm on the pregnancy app on my phone. I've bought bigger bras to accommodate growth, I've quit running* on the advice of my OBGYN. I've already found my playpen/bassinet/babyseat three in one. I enjoy browsing the Target baby section and have thought about my gender reveal party.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also check my underwear each time I sit on the toilet. I check the toilet paper for evidence of blood. I pray when I feel a cramp in my lower abdomen that it is gas and not the beginning of a miscarriage (man, it is HARD to tell the difference sometimes!). At our second ultrasound, I held my breath as I waited for that little bean to show up and flicker. I teared up with joy when it finally did.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I walk through both the joy and the struggle of a mother experiencing pregnancy after loss, I know the Lord is full of compassion and mercy. I can feel it pouring out on me daily in the form of prayers from those close to me. I can feel it pouring out on me in the people who rejoiced with me when I shared the news. I can feel it pouring out on me in the compassion and mercy I've been given every day since my water broke in December.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My babies may have died. There is no guarantee this baby will live. The next nine months (well, seven now!) will not be easy. But He has not forsaken me for a single second. He is full of compassion and mercy. That is how I will persevere through my pregnancy after miscarriage.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*I understand that not all women need to quit running after becoming pregnant. Some women have been running for months or years. I had run twice before becoming pregnant. While my doctor was fine with me continuing to walk, as I'd established the habit over the course of six months and it is a low impact exercise, for me and my situation running is not recommended at this time. Please consult your own doctor about running, while pregnant or otherwise.</span></span></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-89317904775105452102015-08-04T11:56:00.000-07:002015-08-04T11:56:38.787-07:00What Jesus and my Uncle Mike Taught Me<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires. Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you.</i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i> -James 1:19-21-</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I recently attended a memorial service for my great-uncle Mike. There was a time for people to share their memories of him and I noticed a theme. What people remembered most about him were</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. His brilliance...he had more knowledge in his head than almost anyone I've ever met.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. His amazing ability to listen to others. Even as a child, I knew he was listening to what I had to say and that he actually cared about what I was saying.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While people were amazed by the brilliance, it was his innate ability to listen that really touched people. He listened, truly listened, and got to know the heart of the person he was talking to.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More often than not, we find huge chasms created by people of all beliefs and political associations. The focus is on shouting angrily without hearing the person we're shouting at or even really knowing the heart beating inside that person.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If we as a society would listen twice as much as we speak, <b><i>truly listen</i></b> for what the heart of the other person is saying and <b><i>waste less time on our anger</i></b>, we may not agree with what the other person's opinion is. But perhaps we'd find some compassion for the person speaking to us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In turn, our ability to listen to the other person may foster respect in them toward us and bridges would be build between those with opposing viewpoints. If that were to be accomplished in our current society, imagine the ability we could have to solve the struggles we face!</span>Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-87759917160769961962015-07-30T13:32:00.001-07:002015-07-30T13:32:18.161-07:00Surviving South Beach Phase One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Normally I am not a fan of elimination diets. Diets where you have to completely give up something forever, or at least until you reach your goal weight. This is not realistic because we live in America. And unless the people you spend time with regularly are completely committed to eating the same way you will be around the foods you're asked to elimitate indefinitely. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This isn't to say self-control isn't important. It is. I'll talk about that another time, though. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My point of the above is to explain WHY I chose the South Beach diet over all the other diets offered on the marketplace. South Beach asks you to give up ALL fruits, starches, and carbs for two weeks. I can do a lot of things for only two weeks. At the end of the two weeks, introducing fruit back into your diet is encouraged, along with limited whole grains that you choose as you work your way into Phase Two. Phase Two lasts long enough to achieve your goal weight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After Phase Two, you move into Phase Three, or the lifestyle maintenance phase. Essentially you're committing to eliminate the majority of unhealthy foods for the long term and replace them with healthy grains after you've curbed your sugar addiction and once you lose enough weight you remember to eat more moderately in the carbs and starches department to avoid regaining that weight in the future.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's doable because it's teaching you how to make a lifestyle change instead of being a diet that stops once you get to your goal. Phase Three lasts as long as you live or you can put yourself into phases one/two if you gain a bit, say after the holidays or a long vacation.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5NRFtCQWR-EJozNkSFQAxLETzG5adHRfY7jWDi9gI0-89oKzYRwdb4F3V47zTF-NulPL7dnGtaKs2HI0gV1lB-i12jhusOMCL80L75OG3E_qqheNpvwd_buIJYXpZmOEZbwWHIgWb-7g/s1600/IMG_0461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5NRFtCQWR-EJozNkSFQAxLETzG5adHRfY7jWDi9gI0-89oKzYRwdb4F3V47zTF-NulPL7dnGtaKs2HI0gV1lB-i12jhusOMCL80L75OG3E_qqheNpvwd_buIJYXpZmOEZbwWHIgWb-7g/s320/IMG_0461.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">My breakfast for 14 days</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I planned my meals very carefully for the two weeks I did Phase One and I followed the rules almost completely. I did not switch out condiments that contain sugars, such as ketchup or ranch, because that can get spendy and switching from buying inexpensive carbs to more chicken and fresh veggies is already a bit on the expensive side.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdEq2zTDmfn_dzHzKTRucLmBN-tOijbEmv9EsaUrNJpQAvZypMVr39VdRudsZm1sHqy9UOBz7OXdp5_hX0A8roF8Y99bSfkSjoiL7RL0BqbZ8_MC-tzkEJv23NFk9T5wwvhQ7-QzyFGQk/s1600/IMG_0451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdEq2zTDmfn_dzHzKTRucLmBN-tOijbEmv9EsaUrNJpQAvZypMVr39VdRudsZm1sHqy9UOBz7OXdp5_hX0A8roF8Y99bSfkSjoiL7RL0BqbZ8_MC-tzkEJv23NFk9T5wwvhQ7-QzyFGQk/s200/IMG_0451.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">A delicious dinner, with a side of salad!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One way I kept my meal plans simple was repetition. I ate the same meal for breakfast, lunch, and snacks for fourteen days. Dinner time I varied the menu. This made life much easier.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Secondly, I had an <a href="http://charysesbitsnpieces.blogspot.com/2015/06/the-need-for-accountability-part-one.html" target="_blank">accountability partner</a>. She knew I was doing it and I didn't want to fail. We talked regularly about what each one of us was doing to eat healthy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, I kept reminding myself it was for just two weeks. After two weeks, I would have accomplished the hardest part.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I met a couple of challenges while going through this plan. The little things are just how picky I am and an allergy to fish (which would've been a filling, yet low-fat protein to eat).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The bigger challenges had me thinking a bit more creatively. In my area, the average high in June is 73, but the western states have been in the middle of a major drought for a few years and June seems to love ninety+ days this year. Today, the last day of June, topped at 97 degrees. Cooking the South Beach meals I'd planned involved days where I turned on the oven for dinner. I switched a couple of meals around and utilized the grill a few nights to make it work.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvn-ErizrTBVzcIL0PM82_A2MfQ1WWpKiHg9NzEJ3wPHqNboEjJZA9sU2JYqrZIS-ItL-ZL6q8_5jE2pElwCZ1lSvzdpG3i4fSDUjfc_d7TJObdMjzLuN64pG3Meec3LEUQVnW7xALm78/s1600/IMG_0457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvn-ErizrTBVzcIL0PM82_A2MfQ1WWpKiHg9NzEJ3wPHqNboEjJZA9sU2JYqrZIS-ItL-ZL6q8_5jE2pElwCZ1lSvzdpG3i4fSDUjfc_d7TJObdMjzLuN64pG3Meec3LEUQVnW7xALm78/s200/IMG_0457.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Steak and a side salad...who says eating out is unhealthy?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The other big challenge was people being nice. My in-laws, in a generous mood, offered to take us out for dinner at the beginning of my second week to avoid the heat. I could've gone off plan and indulged in a free meal. But I didn't. (Which actually may have ended up costing my in-laws more!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead, I ordered a 7 oz steak and a house salad without croutons. Very delicious, very filling, and I stayed within my plan the entire time. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While it wasn't always easy (like when my seven year old ate a delicious brownie when we went to help with our local soup kitchen) I accomplished it and moved into Phase Two with strength and conviction to keep going strong.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">She sat next to me and made yummy noises while she ate!</span></div>
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Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-75927953702187517632015-06-16T06:01:00.001-07:002015-06-16T06:02:23.609-07:00What's Your Mile?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9iL2w6slZ51MtPBWtoLZPB2KLDv2jd5kyrqSBGzFMjbb03W7Nqr3VuH8N8tDrEH7QeUrNNC7P6d4bcTenDUnkjdGt2nXvJrqYNgpLi7qFhBe1eGPurOQB1EY7Wu-fDPUN1FO47Dm3l9M/s1600/whats+your+mile+meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9iL2w6slZ51MtPBWtoLZPB2KLDv2jd5kyrqSBGzFMjbb03W7Nqr3VuH8N8tDrEH7QeUrNNC7P6d4bcTenDUnkjdGt2nXvJrqYNgpLi7qFhBe1eGPurOQB1EY7Wu-fDPUN1FO47Dm3l9M/s320/whats+your+mile+meme.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A while back, I arrived at church for an evening Bible study
class. I was feeling worn out; I’d done
my walk that day but I didn’t get up in time to walk before church so I donned
my tennis shoes after church and did my mileage for that day. It was a beautiful day, after 1 pm, so it was
quite warm, which zaps me of my energy quickly.
Plus my bad ankle decided to get cranky with me that day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt like I had something to moan and groan about with my
lack of energy. I was all ready to give
my friends my pity speech in conversation when another friend arrived, barely
able to move. She had spent most of the
day running about twenty miles up and down a mountain. Why?
She was training for an ultra-marathon (30 miles), full of elevation
gains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was impressed and shared that with her, commenting, “And I
was feeling worn out from walking a mile today!” She said something that struck me as super
important, not just in exercising but in all areas: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Everyone’s mile looks different.”</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I knew that but I wasn’t looking at it that way. I was looking at what others were doing, what
others had to offer. People who seemed
like they had more to offer than me tended to make me feel envious. People who offered less than me often brought
out judgment. But that wasn’t
right. Envy is a sin, right there in the
Ten Commandments. Judgment is God’s job,
not mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NnmCJhVJfnxlGBqPGcJxiH7f_F1F61sA8ihNkEjBM8eD_17jVQEVdz3rpoGk_ZdahLeo8r84TfXLFrBZ71o0qQFTy4fFrnXJhFlfTmmGXibup_1GB3rtk5xFNfBwghh3O45RMmO2wRY/s1600/runners-752493_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_NnmCJhVJfnxlGBqPGcJxiH7f_F1F61sA8ihNkEjBM8eD_17jVQEVdz3rpoGk_ZdahLeo8r84TfXLFrBZ71o0qQFTy4fFrnXJhFlfTmmGXibup_1GB3rtk5xFNfBwghh3O45RMmO2wRY/s200/runners-752493_1280.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decided I needed to look at what my mile was. My mile, an assignment from God, was not what
my friend’s mile looked like. (I didn’t
want it to be; running 30 miles of hills does not sound like fun!) I needed to turn to God and ask Him what my
mile looked like.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I figured out that I was doing my mile. I was doing it but I was looking at everyone
else’s instead of looking at what I was accomplishing. God doesn’t want me to focus on other
people’s miles unless He’s asking me to help with their mile. He wants me to focus on doing the best I can
do at the mile He’s given me. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcBpWliZ_Cbqrbe41xUaN1XI-EThMubczHHwYGsjUpvD5okAxbTrklVD0QDrhHjuNHCR5hANkee0IU8K5NrRm0Ek8ZAQDnfSfOL-y8xVg8x1NVlzTYCFG2VERKxlE537NwgKj4XD0-nw/s1600/Feet+and+pavement.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfcBpWliZ_Cbqrbe41xUaN1XI-EThMubczHHwYGsjUpvD5okAxbTrklVD0QDrhHjuNHCR5hANkee0IU8K5NrRm0Ek8ZAQDnfSfOL-y8xVg8x1NVlzTYCFG2VERKxlE537NwgKj4XD0-nw/s200/Feet+and+pavement.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I may not
be running 30 miles in a day. But if I’m
focused on giving 100% to the mile He’s asked me to walk, then I’m right where
I’m supposed to be no matter how difficult it might look to others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What is your mile? Are you giving
it 100%?</span></span>Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-21802781563886721092015-06-09T09:28:00.000-07:002015-06-09T09:28:26.274-07:00The Need For Accountability: Part Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFq6nuPrdEUYjqh9wejA3Aqrl-Lic2LNqv88eObh4ZmSXxxlO-DO2m0mtgE6Uzo9U9fqDScHqKdkZAMYpPNZaWxQNaV4EqK3uR2S86bSuIVheIMHKgVHdWDuZIs3t0BBgaAkFJLGsGaJw/s1600/The+need+for+accountability+meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFq6nuPrdEUYjqh9wejA3Aqrl-Lic2LNqv88eObh4ZmSXxxlO-DO2m0mtgE6Uzo9U9fqDScHqKdkZAMYpPNZaWxQNaV4EqK3uR2S86bSuIVheIMHKgVHdWDuZIs3t0BBgaAkFJLGsGaJw/s320/The+need+for+accountability+meme.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://charysesbitsnpieces.blogspot.com/2015/06/the-need-for-accountability-part-one.html" target="_blank">Yesterday</a>, I talked about the three times I've been successful with weight loss and exercise through accountability. Today I'm going to share what I'm doing to be accountable to others to improve my success once again along with a mindset change necessary to succeed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God laid it on my heart to take hold of the next opportunity
I had to commit to a 5K run with a friend.
A week later, I was at a barbecue with some church friends and two of my
friends mentioned a 5K in September. I
agreed to run the 5K with them. Now I’m
committed. I’m a lot less likely to
sleep in each morning because I know come September I’m going to need to be
able to run a 5K. I committed to them
and I know they expect a follow through.
I don’t like to disappoint when I’ve committed to something.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In April a friend and I began the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Made-Crave-Satisfying-Deepest-Desire/dp/031029326X/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1433546951&sr=8-2&keywords=made+to+crave&pebp=1433546958452&perid=12PVZA6PJTV1AR125SZH" target="_blank">Made to Crave</a> bible study
with Lysa TerKeurst. We’ve missed a week
here or there, but on Wednesday we will have completed the entire DVD and both
the book and workbook. As we went
through it I felt convicted that I needed to do some major overhaul to my diet
(here I’m using the word diet simply to mean the food I generally eat). I didn’t need to make small changes for the
short term. Rather, I needed to make BIG
changes to my lifestyle for the long term.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(By the way, most fat people know all there is to know about
healthy eating, exercise, and all the fad diets. We’ve tried most of them with little
results!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wanted the changes I made to be something I could maintain
for the long term. This was going to be
a blueprint for my regular eating habits.
Most importantly, I had to make sure God was in control and not me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The plan I picked (with God’s guidance) was <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-South-Beach-Diet-Doctor-Designed/dp/031231521X/ref=tmm_pap_title_0" target="_blank">South Beach</a>,
because it would work with my body’s medical issue (people with PCOS do not do
well with higher levels of carbs, especially simple carbs) and would be
something that can be sustained for the long term. (Like on my birthday, when I am DEFINITELY
eating CAKE!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the past week, I have had no starch based foods. No breads or grains of any kind, no fruits,
no potatoes, no corn, no sweets. I’ve
eaten meats, eggs, nuts, beans, cheese, and veggies. I’ve also been accountable to my friend who’s
doing the bible study with me and knows about my eating plan along with my
husband, who is doing the first two weeks with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve made it through seven days. I’ve made it through a function with
delicious looking brownies for dessert.
I’ve made it through a few days with a pulled back muscle. I’ve made it through National Donut Day.
I made it through a barbecue with my in-laws and even made a dessert I was choosing not to eat. But I couldn’t have done it on my own.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGdYlar8fsUf0l95tu-O_VwNuecNOlm0OKH7u2p4VR2byMpoMwkV5tyXQW_uMNoyM-rdAXfYbup7J2XWyG2RM6YqD870ZvOuDgMVelqlKXBpbkUeEWWMfJQ3Qbls7CmqCtuG1DSRhz-Z0/s1600/IMG_0451.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGdYlar8fsUf0l95tu-O_VwNuecNOlm0OKH7u2p4VR2byMpoMwkV5tyXQW_uMNoyM-rdAXfYbup7J2XWyG2RM6YqD870ZvOuDgMVelqlKXBpbkUeEWWMfJQ3Qbls7CmqCtuG1DSRhz-Z0/s200/IMG_0451.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Chicken, tomatoes, parmesan, baked in the oven...Yum!</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I needed accountability.
Accountability in my exercise.
Accountability in my eating. But
most importantly, I needed to have my heart focused on God and not on the world
when I traveled this journey. I believe
I will be successful this time both because I’m being transparent and because
I’m focusing on God.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lysa TerKeurst sums up best what I’m doing in Chapter 16 of Made to
Crave, “So I’m not on a diet. I’m on a
journey with Jesus to learn the fine art of self-discipline for the purpose of
holiness.” (p 158).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the purpose of holiness…that’s why we need
accountability.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-77979948343327655262015-06-08T08:35:00.000-07:002015-06-09T09:28:50.716-07:00The Need for Accountability: Part One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvKTFxMqwAAD8ISwCt7TtGibyAhuCjt38_zqK2-vnREgSqX6FiOb3eXYqQtfsDOgL7Fb9r5gZrII1STq6RemWjYcc4aAxs3RJDczqXLVis_pgd79JjUIBklDc3C7VlCNXHiLOOBABhu8/s1600/The+need+for+accountability+meme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRvKTFxMqwAAD8ISwCt7TtGibyAhuCjt38_zqK2-vnREgSqX6FiOb3eXYqQtfsDOgL7Fb9r5gZrII1STq6RemWjYcc4aAxs3RJDczqXLVis_pgd79JjUIBklDc3C7VlCNXHiLOOBABhu8/s320/The+need+for+accountability+meme.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have been overweight for decades. Two decades to be exact. Considering I’m turning 31 next month, I
don’t really remember what it’s like to be at a healthy weight, since I haven’t
been at a healthy weight since I was eight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Half of the weight is a medical issue (polycystic ovarian
syndrome or PCOS) and the other half is the Standard American Diet (SAD) along
with a lack of regular exercise for the last ten years. I’ve tried to lose weight and build healthy
habits since I was eleven with no success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There have been times I’ve managed to flat line on weight
gain or lose 20-30 pounds. I spent two
years on the swim team in high school where I gained no weight (although I
didn’t lose any either, thanks to PCOS!).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My freshman year of college I went to the gym three days a
week with a friend and we lifted weights and did the elliptical for two hours
on those days. I lost about twenty
pounds by the end of the term and an additional ten over the summer. No freshman fifteen here!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">About five years ago, I put $450 down on a personal trainer
and worked out five days a week the entire summer. Between that and the stomach flu, by the end
of October that year I had lost 35 pounds.
Then I began working on my master’s research with a kindergarten class
full of special needs kids and a toddler at home. Can we say takeout, anyone?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvKyODQlsOpBs-IQqIcIn4iHvVWVs5BoyXnADF_DayAK2RqmTNKJHnMBbxhXEitlfSihU-9k8TV0WiYMSI77fiUwMsXiLahDu5pUK4PvPScq_q5b-bJs5WlxBz3ly7e37gIQAGvuFBxI/s1600/cheeseburger-34314_1280.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvKyODQlsOpBs-IQqIcIn4iHvVWVs5BoyXnADF_DayAK2RqmTNKJHnMBbxhXEitlfSihU-9k8TV0WiYMSI77fiUwMsXiLahDu5pUK4PvPScq_q5b-bJs5WlxBz3ly7e37gIQAGvuFBxI/s200/cheeseburger-34314_1280.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The rest of the last twenty years have been dozens of fits
and starts with different diet and exercise plans, none of which lasted a full
two weeks. What was different about
those three times in my life where I was able to be successful? I had accountability.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve found that accountability is important in a variety of
areas in life, whether you are accountable to a spouse, a boss, your church, a
family member, a friend. Accountability
is important to maintain integrity and also for follow-through. What I’ve learned is I’m more likely to give
up if I’m not accountable to anyone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Five months ago, I started walking. I didn’t mention to anyone that I started
walking at first but then I’d walked more than two weeks straight and realized
I was making progress. So I started
posting on Facebook and blogging about it. Now my friends and family will ask
me regularly how my walking is going.
When I get up in the morning my husband asks me if I’m going for a walk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-zz2BXubQe_5M8aSzgHUmxB-94O-mHSVJWRk6pfoDjEJw-gKJamTw6i__MvE35ZrsG0gIEsf5lbVLJP2apQ0PITVZjrHEbeas7gulTGgs2-r4s8cgUDQm_lkGbIko3Xny3lsWAuGplQ/s1600/IMG_0122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-zz2BXubQe_5M8aSzgHUmxB-94O-mHSVJWRk6pfoDjEJw-gKJamTw6i__MvE35ZrsG0gIEsf5lbVLJP2apQ0PITVZjrHEbeas7gulTGgs2-r4s8cgUDQm_lkGbIko3Xny3lsWAuGplQ/s320/IMG_0122.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But during crazy seasons of life, that’s not quite
enough. It’s too easy to give in to my
bed when I was up late the night before accomplishing something. After two months of near-daily walking and
seventy miles, I hit some major roadblocks and I let them trip me up. I missed out on most of March after a major
flu bug caused a second miscarriage. At
the end of March, I got back on the wagon and remained consistent for about
three weeks when a nasty cold derailed me once again. I knew I needed more accountability than the
occasional post on Facebook.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Come back <a href="http://charysesbitsnpieces.blogspot.com/2015/06/the-need-for-accountability-part-two.html" target="_blank">tomorrow</a> when I share what I did to add accountability to my exercise and eating habits!</span></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-29924064227223375612015-06-05T14:30:00.002-07:002015-06-05T14:30:39.835-07:00To Faith on Your Due Date<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_enZPmZgx3W1GCIFUp6QO01RraQ8my0R9c3J0q3kHlxzxKB7ZMarDXJypFDQ-5DNbFi27YNJZ41vow_Gg47r0ToGkWQ7l4Wg8C9cuXWqvMnec-FG2oC9KUETRasfTZImvS8iOECgy08s/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_enZPmZgx3W1GCIFUp6QO01RraQ8my0R9c3J0q3kHlxzxKB7ZMarDXJypFDQ-5DNbFi27YNJZ41vow_Gg47r0ToGkWQ7l4Wg8C9cuXWqvMnec-FG2oC9KUETRasfTZImvS8iOECgy08s/s200/015.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My Sweet Little Girl,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today is the day you were supposed to arrive in the world,
the day we were planning for your big debut.
Today is the day I’d planned to hold you and nurse you and look into
your eyes as you looked at me. Today is
the day we hoped to start learning about your personality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But instead it’s just another day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I began dreaming about this day, eight long months ago,
I pictured a nursery full of woodland creatures. I pictured light and joy and happiness and excited anticipation. I pictured a beautiful baby in
my arms as family and friends came to admire our new arrival.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought when I woke up today, I’d be ready to go to the
hospital or maybe already at the hospital or maybe even home from the hospital
by now (Your sister was three weeks old on her due date!).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLj0ewbALf-8wE1lg-kWKxFw5mdhnLZub14OMu6mpL4JS-UFGXiH50A9VP7AhHXGWprs7ylzbP1zOXSov6TM1IBZ7vD_sGtcxzs6yT3AoUfkBtnOmU2M23TByJyECvxFnscGYRw3pzr9s/s1600/IMG_20150129_125020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLj0ewbALf-8wE1lg-kWKxFw5mdhnLZub14OMu6mpL4JS-UFGXiH50A9VP7AhHXGWprs7ylzbP1zOXSov6TM1IBZ7vD_sGtcxzs6yT3AoUfkBtnOmU2M23TByJyECvxFnscGYRw3pzr9s/s200/IMG_20150129_125020.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>May the Lord bless you and keep you; may the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; may the lord turn his face toward you and give you peace. ~Numbers 6:24-26</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead I woke up to a day with a sore back. I woke up to my fifth day on the South Beach
eating plan. I woke up to a Facebook
newsfeed full of donuts I’m choosing not to eat right now. But most of all I woke up to a day without
you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m trying to be thankful.
I’m trying to cling to God, who knows the end from the beginning. Most days I’m successful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today is not one of those days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today, I cried. But
you already know that. You’re looking
down on me from Heaven, with Reese, as you see the throne of glory in
person. I didn’t cry for you. I cried for me, for all the hopes and dreams
I lost when I lost you. You didn’t lose
hopes and dreams. You gained everything
by entering God’s Kingdom. So I’m sad
for me. But I rejoice with the angels
and the Lord Jesus that you and Reese have made it home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBH0MMAYsr4fx0B5HaD8Yda74oW7j8dFCarbvnn0Nq1cWHlU4TbdCdceXQGilro4VmoXzQRkiHJmP8bPUgMzsZT-9M31WsA-0_UYipJDbtWELxN2kGlqraY-qDCn-o0p1iZRMTxanuhYI/s1600/IMG_0411.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBH0MMAYsr4fx0B5HaD8Yda74oW7j8dFCarbvnn0Nq1cWHlU4TbdCdceXQGilro4VmoXzQRkiHJmP8bPUgMzsZT-9M31WsA-0_UYipJDbtWELxN2kGlqraY-qDCn-o0p1iZRMTxanuhYI/s200/IMG_0411.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. ~Genesis 50:20</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I miss you every day, Faith Leanne, but today I miss you
even more. Reese is very missed, too,
but today is your day. Today is the day
I hoped to meet you. I’ll have to wait
quite a bit because God’s not done with me here on Earth, but someday He’ll
call me home and I’ll be with you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happy Due Date Day, sweet little girl. I’m thankful for the months I carried
you. I’m thankful for the days I held
your tiny body in my arms. I’m thankful
God is writing an amazing testimony with your life. I’m thankful you’re safe in Heaven. And I’m thankful for YOU!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mommy</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-11153812072578973152015-05-28T13:46:00.000-07:002015-05-28T13:46:14.903-07:00I Have Babies in Heaven and Peace in my Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNzV0ELGteC7P_4Vtsl5aYsxmJp3zQhuK0tj5XGRCqtBRBrjrl5injHMT1kx4IHPNhqRy93UG-k5vCUGWnZaV9Tnsx1QKzLj47V0uT81Xx13SqA7XTlYGtpeU6D0Tw0O0WBEIwORuTwWY/s1600/summit-cross-524015_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNzV0ELGteC7P_4Vtsl5aYsxmJp3zQhuK0tj5XGRCqtBRBrjrl5injHMT1kx4IHPNhqRy93UG-k5vCUGWnZaV9Tnsx1QKzLj47V0uT81Xx13SqA7XTlYGtpeU6D0Tw0O0WBEIwORuTwWY/s320/summit-cross-524015_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I walk I usually listen to a podcast on my phone. I particularly enjoy listening to Kris
Vallotton from Bethel. His messages have
depth and humor. A few weeks ago I was walking and
listening to a message on Esther. He had
concluded his message and was finishing up with prayer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He stopped in the middle of his prayer with a Word from the
Lord. He said that he felt like there
was someone either there or listening to it streaming who had lost two babies
to miscarriage. That this person was
struggling when around infants and small children. He wanted to tell that person Jesus was
working on healing their heart and walking with them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God
was reminding me that He was right there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When my heart is breaking and I feel like I can’t get
through the day…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I want to stay in bed all day every day…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I want to kick and scream and be angry…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I am losing my patience with others…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I feel like everyone but me is having healthy, happy
babies…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God…God is right there, every step of the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH85m_7abLdGTlXvHHszr59nF0lvBnbtqW1OzRxTlpnhGWH8kRUJe4l_SyHNW-FfXU-MJkeBexKSgkve3L8WfLeuOgVyNJyqzOoQdbs9MW7UtCM2oreyJdCKXMbd3mtXxA_-S07URdAG8/s1600/IMG_20150129_125020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH85m_7abLdGTlXvHHszr59nF0lvBnbtqW1OzRxTlpnhGWH8kRUJe4l_SyHNW-FfXU-MJkeBexKSgkve3L8WfLeuOgVyNJyqzOoQdbs9MW7UtCM2oreyJdCKXMbd3mtXxA_-S07URdAG8/s200/IMG_20150129_125020.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He’s there when I find reasons to smile and laugh.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He’s there when I get out of bed and go for a walk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He’s there when I turn to Him in prayer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He’s there when I keep my cool.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He’s there when I hold babies and play with the toddlers at
church. He’s there when I visit my
nephew and He’s there in the beautiful daughter He gave me seven years ago.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every day, He’s there, giving me strength, love,
encouragement, and, most importantly, peace.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s been more than five months since Faith died. I spent the first week in a sort of shock and
somewhat numb. Then, she was buried and
the holidays were over. It was time to
start moving on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I didn’t know how.
I was living in a whole different world, in a world where I’d held my
dead daughter in my arms without ever hearing her voice, seeing her smile, or
letting go of her hand as she took her first steps. In a world where I’d never watch her graduate
from college, walk down the aisle in a white gown, or give birth to her own
children. All those dreams were gone and
I was living in a world where I was a grieving mother. I could’ve lost it.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBg7CMkuDKhAqrW-DT99iHPnKFWIqGMAM8fd92fzu1lSkZB6R-Abn_tlg9uObJBgwDWwETSB7cH7uEx7RO6F_Pd1e0Dco1uHfeHTF90xrOfW6x93Nw6Hb1gVw5N6nmsVxT54RxG_DNgRA/s1600/IMG_20150211_130021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBg7CMkuDKhAqrW-DT99iHPnKFWIqGMAM8fd92fzu1lSkZB6R-Abn_tlg9uObJBgwDWwETSB7cH7uEx7RO6F_Pd1e0Dco1uHfeHTF90xrOfW6x93Nw6Hb1gVw5N6nmsVxT54RxG_DNgRA/s200/IMG_20150211_130021.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But God. I turned to
Him. I asked Him what I needed to
do. He directed my steps as I learned to
navigate this new normal. He held my
hand as He showed me the greater purposes in letting my babies die. He walked me through the loss of a second
child less than three months after Faith, little Reese Day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He never let me go.
He shared my burden. He held me
when I cried. He replaced an
unimaginable grief with peace that surpasses all understanding.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-73723069782068347852015-05-26T19:44:00.002-07:002015-05-26T19:44:44.822-07:00The Birth Story I Didn't Want<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>My due date is in little over a week. Six months ago, I was so excited for the end of May to arrive so I could meet my little bundle of joy. In our fallen world, things don't always go as smoothly as we'd want. This is the story of my second daughter's short four months on Earth.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-ejfMXiv1tQ4KyGpiz7sCvCOW4dGgMvW9AXPUEOTX_iS-zT4oAMdTUrTKX0RcptNAy8x0eHRE207Pln6j2FWzTzUyuwPZxUB-mNJU_lTTaL7i5ovU9B-6yRAwS4AAyDvMu7dfngm6lk/s1600/Birth+story+title.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-ejfMXiv1tQ4KyGpiz7sCvCOW4dGgMvW9AXPUEOTX_iS-zT4oAMdTUrTKX0RcptNAy8x0eHRE207Pln6j2FWzTzUyuwPZxUB-mNJU_lTTaL7i5ovU9B-6yRAwS4AAyDvMu7dfngm6lk/s1600/Birth+story+title.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the last full week of September 2014, my daughter had a
mild bug. She recovered by the end of
the week and went off to Grandma’s house for the weekend. On Saturday September 27<sup>th</sup>, I felt
really nauseous. I was worn out from
comforting a sick child and I was worried I’d contracted her bug. Then I realized my breasts were quite
tender. On our way home from a dinner
date, I pulled into Walgreen’s and bought a pregnancy test.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the three years that we’d been trying to get pregnant I’d
taken dozens of pregnancy tests. I
finally quit taking them and I hadn’t taken one since June. But this time was different. This time, I got a plus instead of a
minus. Three times. I was pregnant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had typical first trimester fatigue and nausea. I craved meat and potatoes all the time so I
was just sure I was carrying a boy. We
spent a Saturday in October sharing the good news with our family and the next
day with our church family. We saw our
baby on the ultrasound two different times.
The second time the baby was smiling and waving at us. I was so happy!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzsDpAKVnpNNDYRa7XF9F45G07qVK6UgkL2iJNu65K008regaPVGmil2tUSHfgbm2fAaiWw76zMDNK6ArJfVFMyszWRzG7Z_vRObJwXeY3H3FS-u-vWsxrNBK9ToEe3RBxMtYkLfx0CPU/s1600/birth+story+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzsDpAKVnpNNDYRa7XF9F45G07qVK6UgkL2iJNu65K008regaPVGmil2tUSHfgbm2fAaiWw76zMDNK6ArJfVFMyszWRzG7Z_vRObJwXeY3H3FS-u-vWsxrNBK9ToEe3RBxMtYkLfx0CPU/s1600/birth+story+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At 2 am on Saturday, December 13<sup>th</sup>, I felt a
small pop followed by a gush of water. I
knew instantly that my water had broken.
I was fifteen weeks pregnant and I knew it was too early for a baby to
survive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Waking my daughter and my husband, we drove the six blocks
to the hospital. Two ultrasounds in two
hours and it was determined my water had broken but the baby was still resting
comfortably in my womb, with a strong heartbeat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After two nights at the hospital and a visit to a
specialist, I was told babies survive water breaking this early 5% of the
time. The rest either deliver within two
weeks or do not have developed enough lungs if they make it past 24 weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was sent home to wait.
What could I do to improve my baby’s chances, I wanted to know. Nothing, I was told. There’s nothing anyone can do at this point
except pray.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZ99X6wtgpJXEyEn51S7v8-BuhzpykHoUv-VGFTMuSNm-nAXg7TbKFxnYQXjiL5MV6SV7k5ldsbFgyLC6i10jv_4UKXqONnxT7OmRqlaIKZE__tkiTom_kaZJ9iypAgbeS2-J6mMlxFM/s1600/birth+story+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXZ99X6wtgpJXEyEn51S7v8-BuhzpykHoUv-VGFTMuSNm-nAXg7TbKFxnYQXjiL5MV6SV7k5ldsbFgyLC6i10jv_4UKXqONnxT7OmRqlaIKZE__tkiTom_kaZJ9iypAgbeS2-J6mMlxFM/s1600/birth+story+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite the prayers of close to a thousand people, on December 22<sup>nd</sup>,
I felt something in my birth canal. I
knew instantly that I had touched a limb.
At the hospital, I sent my husband into the waiting room so our daughter
would not have to watch me deliver the dead baby she had been so excited to
meet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I delivered in the emergency room with two small pushes and
Faith Leanne was born, never taking a single breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I
was given my tiny baby girl, wrapped in a blanket with the smallest infant hat
I’d ever seen. Faith was 3 ounces and 7
inches long. She was born at 3:50
pm. She lives with Jesus in Heaven.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I miss her every day.</span></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-83807925449089288212015-05-20T11:49:00.002-07:002015-05-20T11:50:02.820-07:00Miracles Are Always Milestones<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m aware of the milestones I pass each step of this
difficult journey. In January I counted
the weeks. Then it had been a month
since my baby died. I began counting the
months and keeping track of how big she would have been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwJOQH34JQbZgJZq2SkbTnZueQkzZK4EWNz8hK2vbZW4fViY7FyDc88H6f4wjXHZI51kLquyw7dtX7kbwHkH74Be-osthvWtzjyz3A6ihM_N5VAWl8I0aT6sJ7u-7qYvPQN4WN37GcBQ/s1600/Why+I+walk+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwJOQH34JQbZgJZq2SkbTnZueQkzZK4EWNz8hK2vbZW4fViY7FyDc88H6f4wjXHZI51kLquyw7dtX7kbwHkH74Be-osthvWtzjyz3A6ihM_N5VAWl8I0aT6sJ7u-7qYvPQN4WN37GcBQ/s200/Why+I+walk+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each milestone passes by.
Three months…another loss comes to our family during what should be a
time of joy (my seven year old’s birthday).
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Four months…I've seen the births of the new Duggar
grandbaby, the royal baby, and a friend’s sweet little girl. As I hold that precious child, I think: “This should be one of Faith’s best
friends.” They would've been less than
two months apart in age.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I watch my daughter play with the toddlers at church. She loves to play with them, acting like a
little mother hen. My eyes well up as
she takes a little girl by the hand and climbs the stairs with her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My one year old nephew squeals and rejoices to see my seven
year old, calling out his baby version of Sarah, one of about four or five
words he attempts at this point. I wonder
if he would pick up the word ‘baby’ quickly if Faith were alive. I rejoice that Sarah has so many kids to love
on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But when she comes to me in the evening and tells me she
misses the babies, I know she’s grieving, too.</span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-SlraJ00jcXIctIbsdayvW4tkF76zjPHfumsJ-s8FWuxDG2dmjY5GTHCxZghdYJ85gElt3fm98oyki6D32BE51gnGP7NV0-lZpioICN27DDOZcndv3IK9hZlLT-MjJQ_BGcmsp_atCQ/s1600/Sarah+snuggles+Faith.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8-SlraJ00jcXIctIbsdayvW4tkF76zjPHfumsJ-s8FWuxDG2dmjY5GTHCxZghdYJ85gElt3fm98oyki6D32BE51gnGP7NV0-lZpioICN27DDOZcndv3IK9hZlLT-MjJQ_BGcmsp_atCQ/s200/Sarah+snuggles+Faith.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Friday it will be five months. Five months and it’s the month for mothers,
May. May has always been a big
celebration month in my family with both my grandmas born in May along with
Mother’s Day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I plan a time to take flowers to my precious girl for
Memorial Day weekend. Memorial Day…a day
to reflect on the lives of soldiers lost, but also has become a day to remember
anyone we’ve lost.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think about how different my life would be right now if I
were still pregnant. With all the muggy
weather, I’d probably be a bear to live with complaining about how hot it
is. I’d be putting the final touches on
things for my sweet little girl. I’d be
feeling her every move inside of me. I’d
be talking to her as I went about my day.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Most importantly, I’d be counting down. Today is sixteen days from my due date of
June 5<sup>th</sup>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If our March loss, baby Reese, had lived I would be on my
knees multiple times a day praying for safety for the precious life inside of
me because I’d be about fifteen weeks along, the same age Faith was when my
water broke.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead, it’s just another day. A Wednesday.
Cloudy but warm outside. Agenda
for today: shower, eat, clean up the
kitchen, do schoolwork with Sarah, straighten the house, dinner, call my
husband, Bible study with a friend, put Sarah to bed, and relax for a bit
before falling asleep. Same as most
Wednesdays. Nothing too impressive on
the world’s radar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For me, it’s a milestone.
Because each day I get up and put clothes on is another day I didn’t let
the enemy take over my thoughts and my life.
Each day I do what I need to do instead of curling up in a ball of grief
is a day that God’s strength is victorious in my life. Each day that I choose to turn to God as He
lifts me up and strengthens me to walk this difficult road is a miracle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqU31PRMiccifdTl-9_sQiLmtMbuosF4jIndUMNFZlrrnP3YYGGNUp8N4R81BHrtUK_G0QudrxLn833RRFcaYbz8-vFRS8iajM6oKfmCDj9BOltmi3ijv8DohuIyyVXjvD_GO_wqathME/s1600/summit-cross-524015_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqU31PRMiccifdTl-9_sQiLmtMbuosF4jIndUMNFZlrrnP3YYGGNUp8N4R81BHrtUK_G0QudrxLn833RRFcaYbz8-vFRS8iajM6oKfmCDj9BOltmi3ijv8DohuIyyVXjvD_GO_wqathME/s200/summit-cross-524015_1280.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And miracles are always milestones.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-80699561719534498362015-04-20T09:27:00.001-07:002015-04-20T09:27:35.429-07:00Walking 100 miles!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_M6E7YGE0UpVUl4jWz38wudBZQRi97NLvjJLYZYYsqW4KJmjshoYr5pnYuSa3g-a4hF6Gfju7y9Iq5CrsrLg3e43vg569TSLPQkl64v6P5bixjbnJMwlvzk6uLKPOKDd_kjG4jyGBwtA/s1600/Walking+100+miles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_M6E7YGE0UpVUl4jWz38wudBZQRi97NLvjJLYZYYsqW4KJmjshoYr5pnYuSa3g-a4hF6Gfju7y9Iq5CrsrLg3e43vg569TSLPQkl64v6P5bixjbnJMwlvzk6uLKPOKDd_kjG4jyGBwtA/s1600/Walking+100+miles.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I've been walking in the last few weeks, a certain song has been running through my mind off and on. I decided that, despite a few fishy lyrics, I would take it for my superhero walking song. You might recognize it from the (also sometimes questionable) TV show <i>How I Met Your Mother</i>: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02GywNAVgiA" target="_blank">500 Miles</a> (YouTube Link).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Okay, so I haven't walked 500 miles. But as of today, I have walked 100 miles! Today, I have walked 100 miles in 2015!</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 100 miles...it seems like so much! I would never have believed on January first that I was going to walk 100 miles by April 20th. But I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2aJ_UBpJPojqpgJmy7z2moYb_C0N2aGUidEbF322lCl2bKekStvM8y29S02HioZ54TBuIbUm4vGrwJTvnhYCpfuJxCv0xWBpUbF4kNXP9oz8VpjpsHEPQo4PMIn1RFv4aK7sJQJgk0qE/s1600/100+miles+snip+from+excel+spreadsheet.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2aJ_UBpJPojqpgJmy7z2moYb_C0N2aGUidEbF322lCl2bKekStvM8y29S02HioZ54TBuIbUm4vGrwJTvnhYCpfuJxCv0xWBpUbF4kNXP9oz8VpjpsHEPQo4PMIn1RFv4aK7sJQJgk0qE/s1600/100+miles+snip+from+excel+spreadsheet.PNG" height="320" width="229" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just started by putting one foot in front of the other. I started walking 100 miles a half-mile at a time. It was a long, long road that got me to 100 miles including some major setbacks (flu and a second miscarriage in March). I think that's the way to reach most goals we set for ourselves, though. One foot in front of the other, chopping our goals into small baby steps, we are able to achieve the goals set for ourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes our goals fizzle out and die. Sometimes, our goals stop being important to us. I think what makes the difference is where God is in our goal. Have you asked God about reaching this goal? Have you asked God where He wants you to go? Maybe your goal will take you away from God's plans and purpose for you. Maybe your goal will do more harm than good in the long run, either for yourself or others. I've had some pretty lofty goals in my 30 years. (Anyone else go through the "I'm going to be a star" phase? Just me? Okay, moving on!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ten years ago, my goals in life were</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">1. Teach kindergarten</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">2. Get married</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">3. Have kids</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I achieved all three by 23. At first, I thought, "Great! Mission accomplished!" But I had a lot more living left to do. If average life expectancy is at almost 80 years old, I had 57 years of life left. I soon realized God had much more in store for me than those three goals.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I'm wary of setting long term goals. My goal of teaching kindergarten was great and I enjoyed the five years I taught. But in two months, God completely upended my plans and I was resigning my job to stay home with my daughter. Rather, I'm learning to ask God, "Where to next?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Right now, He's sending me off on the next 100 miles. Only He knows where He's sending me tomorrow, though!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWjzAaHK2DmrQENY6z3lFy7lQPCrnScu7Mdnro-YBiO4UVvgSRWYmGjigMV4k-Ofuy9uRVYaMwbdov2AUE191VTvAQW_5GEnvyq3G_GLNCQZ_GmeEUrzdxmZTralRcRRl164FImeCzXE/s1600/I+did+it+edit+100+walking+100+miles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIWjzAaHK2DmrQENY6z3lFy7lQPCrnScu7Mdnro-YBiO4UVvgSRWYmGjigMV4k-Ofuy9uRVYaMwbdov2AUE191VTvAQW_5GEnvyq3G_GLNCQZ_GmeEUrzdxmZTralRcRRl164FImeCzXE/s1600/I+did+it+edit+100+walking+100+miles.jpg" height="320" width="230" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Me in all my unedited, non-hair fixed, not yet showered, bleary-eyed glory!)</span></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-81892913709544431332015-04-18T15:42:00.000-07:002015-04-18T15:43:48.333-07:00Missing the Target: When You Fall Short of Your Goals<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6jw8DqhV9PPQbSvzvEkD_L7_cRQ9UCNt8ntRm4pQUwGUkjtuE2YXB1phkvm7oPJbuas-en8EHHvg3AQrz0e4_HT3UFzvJrvEeMojU8QoeCCGyWEsIS56DOXs0LPWkpkQQ2IubUGv75Q/s1600/Missed+Target+Title.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6jw8DqhV9PPQbSvzvEkD_L7_cRQ9UCNt8ntRm4pQUwGUkjtuE2YXB1phkvm7oPJbuas-en8EHHvg3AQrz0e4_HT3UFzvJrvEeMojU8QoeCCGyWEsIS56DOXs0LPWkpkQQ2IubUGv75Q/s1600/Missed+Target+Title.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You know that saying, “Shoot for the moon, if you miss
you’ll land among the stars?” If we were
to take it literally, it would not be true.
But the figurative language behind it is true. Falling short of our goals happens but
letting that destroy us is not the best course of action.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In January I realized I’d walked more than twenty
miles. This was quite a goal considering
I was more of a couch potato than anything for the past decade. So I set two goals for February:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-indent: -0.25in;">1. Walk
daily</span></div>
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fifty miles</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Both goals were fairly practical. The mileage I was working at and that I
planned on increasing halfway through the month would provide enough walking to easily achieve the fifty mile mark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then life happened. About
halfway through the month, I was sick one day.
Nothing serious, but serious enough to stay home. There went my goal to “walk daily”. But I was determined to get that fifty
miles. I walked in rain or shine. Some days I brought my daughter with me,
other days I walked alone. I was walking
2.5 miles daily and on course to hit my fifty mile mark on the last day of the
month. And the flu hit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">February 27<sup>th</sup>, I took my daughter for our
walk. It was almost 6 pm, the sun was
setting, and it was misting but I was determined. However, she was wilting before my eyes and I
knew something was wrong. I took her
home and 20 minutes later the pukies hit our house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought I could squeeze my walking in the next morning
before my husband left, adding a couple laps to make up for the shorter walk
the day before. But here’s the thing
about kids: they share their germs!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtWfxioz7GtZQLjontQGGXAO8FiEox4ZzEiy3fGDcYRb47BqKbvgAoCxsVyQzteHZXm5cq7snqvp2dtNVOAUzAc0MilcOqkIsjb6DNuklXPn3TLeL6HFz7TnTkHT_l_iTSBUcM5ZYQyJI/s1600/Missing+the+target+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtWfxioz7GtZQLjontQGGXAO8FiEox4ZzEiy3fGDcYRb47BqKbvgAoCxsVyQzteHZXm5cq7snqvp2dtNVOAUzAc0MilcOqkIsjb6DNuklXPn3TLeL6HFz7TnTkHT_l_iTSBUcM5ZYQyJI/s1600/Missing+the+target+1.jpg" height="185" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I missed my goal by less than three miles. On March 3<sup>rd</sup>, when I attempted my
walk, two laps (1 mile) had me exhausted and ready for a nap. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I could look back on February as a failure. But I would be wrong. Did I meet my goal? No. In my efforts to
exercise I’m finding myself a better wife, a better mother, a better friend,
and a better follower of God. I have
more energy and I want to be up and active more than I want to curl up on the
couch with a good Netflix binge. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you’re putting all your effort into reaching your goals,
they will get met. The timeline might be
extended a bit but they will get met.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you’re putting all your effort into reaching your goals,
even when the timeline is not met you’re still hitting the target.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-62743159700855510692015-03-16T12:06:00.000-07:002015-03-16T12:06:07.132-07:00The Five Reasons Why I Walk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cIYNkMGNqSvWboy6ME_cHmcO2RkZVo8m1RAj8xwc1L0RBGS0gVeTurnULvJd21tveuEtvlea5eflrZN6UpA-mJF_xwgclZ-O80tFtbqxV6sNahtgmGz_ubV9L9nactQrQaiVAtVkW4Q/s1600/5+reasons+why+I+walk+image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cIYNkMGNqSvWboy6ME_cHmcO2RkZVo8m1RAj8xwc1L0RBGS0gVeTurnULvJd21tveuEtvlea5eflrZN6UpA-mJF_xwgclZ-O80tFtbqxV6sNahtgmGz_ubV9L9nactQrQaiVAtVkW4Q/s1600/5+reasons+why+I+walk+image.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On December 22<sup>nd</sup>, when my sweet baby girl, Faith,
was born too early at 16 weeks, I had been free from anxiety and depression for
two and a half years, thanks to the freedom I’d found in Jesus Christ. I was worried I’d end up back in the pit of
depression where I’d spent nearly twenty years of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I went to Father God and said, “Lord, I cannot do
this. You’re going to have to do this
for me. Tell me what to do. “<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He never disappoints.
He says He’ll carry us and the last three months have more than proved
His faithfulness. He heard me and told
me exactly what I needed to do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Charyse, you need to walk every single day.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As usual, He was right.
But why walking? Why was it
exactly what I needed?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I needed a reason to
leave the house.</b> Spending time with
friends seven days a week, week in and week out was not a feasible long-term
solution. Putting on clothes and leaving
the house to go for a walk every day was.
This kept me from spending days curled up in my pajamas, making myself
more and more depressed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgcVgfP5nwhp-onDJsyyunAmlW28MrThfzbsmkBJfCe_YdtiaKyn7oEAxeRrWQTIswoWLOxyi11cRuW_wf8GTmYnhKVBNLFP5YsTWJxxEt73CUmHAp0Y4uu8csleNS-SqTI_-EfnFrQw/s1600/Why+I+walk+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVgcVgfP5nwhp-onDJsyyunAmlW28MrThfzbsmkBJfCe_YdtiaKyn7oEAxeRrWQTIswoWLOxyi11cRuW_wf8GTmYnhKVBNLFP5YsTWJxxEt73CUmHAp0Y4uu8csleNS-SqTI_-EfnFrQw/s1600/Why+I+walk+1.jpg" height="206" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>It made me feel happier</b>. Exercise of any kind produces good endorphins
which improve your mood. For a grieving
mama, an improved mood is a lifesaver.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I needed to have
purpose</b>. My baby girl was dead and I
needed to find a purpose for myself and I needed her short life to have
purpose. Walking made me feel like I was
accomplishing something, even if the only thing I did all day was get a walk
in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I needed to get
healthy</b>. When I got pregnant, I was
significantly overweight. I still am;
walking hasn't lost me that much weight as my hormones are just now starting to
balance themselves out from pregnancy. But
I needed to help my body regulate itself and I needed a big kick in the pants
to get my body on the road to healthy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJI26rZf6o2dUfN-XZCJz82575OvCwfBjHIP0ABNXANZyEgYmpxhQe0r-bapSL1JL9icHA4K4fMsnyRSgMNGlBz9wxjnTi_hFI70JE1pNvOZryvVmHtX3V2a0_cCZ0YysN1sprJRZNyMw/s1600/Why+I+walk+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJI26rZf6o2dUfN-XZCJz82575OvCwfBjHIP0ABNXANZyEgYmpxhQe0r-bapSL1JL9icHA4K4fMsnyRSgMNGlBz9wxjnTi_hFI70JE1pNvOZryvVmHtX3V2a0_cCZ0YysN1sprJRZNyMw/s1600/Why+I+walk+2.jpg" height="207" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Others needed to hear
my story</b>. While I was asking God to
get me through a hard time so that I could overcome a tragedy that happened to
me, He knew that I am only a small part of His great plan. Others needed to hear my story because it
helped them. I wasn't just walking for
myself and my own health, God told me to walk because through walking I would
be able to help others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now that I’m feeling healthier and happier, I know that
God’s sovereign plan is much bigger and greater than my own. Through walking, I learned that <b>Faith’s life, short as it may have been,
will continue to touch others</b>, so long as I stay faithful to God’s
direction to keep walking.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4245413497144926602.post-91170277498089184872015-02-05T18:49:00.002-08:002015-02-05T18:49:31.660-08:009 Days of Waiting With the Lord<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3k3Msa-L7APBoJl_6XQzPb_E3YLt9Np1zWmHofUL4ZAOLXgYDO8TnSl8fdaa-8-zcNGdiUcEzGP7mMw93XendGEGiuYI1jpcXf35TPyOWElqzurmIOM4Oe57LI5Bml1wuHmAymxWUHs/s1600/clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3k3Msa-L7APBoJl_6XQzPb_E3YLt9Np1zWmHofUL4ZAOLXgYDO8TnSl8fdaa-8-zcNGdiUcEzGP7mMw93XendGEGiuYI1jpcXf35TPyOWElqzurmIOM4Oe57LI5Bml1wuHmAymxWUHs/s1600/clock.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On December 13<sup>th</sup> at 15 weeks pregnant, my water
broke. It was two o’clock in the morning
and I thought my pregnancy was ending at that moment. The emergency room had even scheduled a D
& C before getting a hold of the OBGYN on call.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But my baby girl had a heartbeat. The OBGYN said that as long as my baby girl
was alive & there was no infection, the pregnancy could proceed. The chance of Faith surviving until she was
viable was about 5%. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I was sent home to wait and see if my baby would live or
die.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Faith lived in my womb for nine more days. The lessons I learned during those nine days
grew me more than the thirty years before them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I learned that I don’t control anything except the way I
react.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No matter what I did, I couldn’t save my baby. I couldn’t control what happened to her. All I could control was how I handled what
was happening to my baby and to me. I
could react with anger and bitterness, letting it fester inside of me and
becoming a bitter, mean human being. I
could react with depression, curling up in a ball and hiding from the
world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Or I could react with courage and trust, knowing that
whatever happens God has a plan, He has only good for me, and I can do all
things through Him who strengthens me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The choice is up to me.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5a3LUiZJdS8f3yAnYjJKG8UWE9DzkFlf194jPPTnXJZa7l79x_fus6m8m537Fhbwpiwg0fFYtP79P3GDi2OFOvPxCmfJ0o05lc6ppxRfgKNMP4vFHAvWkjWnXUyZ2KAUX0jvWXcBVPlA/s1600/Praying-Hands-over-Bible.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5a3LUiZJdS8f3yAnYjJKG8UWE9DzkFlf194jPPTnXJZa7l79x_fus6m8m537Fhbwpiwg0fFYtP79P3GDi2OFOvPxCmfJ0o05lc6ppxRfgKNMP4vFHAvWkjWnXUyZ2KAUX0jvWXcBVPlA/s1600/Praying-Hands-over-Bible.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I learned the importance of daily time with God.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When my water broke, I hadn’t been spending time reading my
Bible. I hadn’t been spending time in
prayer or worship. I’d been busy doing “Christian”
things, like leading a bible study group, teaching in the toddler room, & hosting
a women’s Christmas party. None of those
things are bad…but it’s not what God really wanted from me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">God desires relationship with us. He wants us to read His book, speak to Him in
prayer, and listen to Him. I began
praying and reading His Word daily. God impressed
upon my heart to memorize Luke 1:45-47, which is the Scripture I repeated to
myself as I delivered my dead baby girl into the world. God prepared my heart for what He knew was
going to happen. If I hadn’t taken the
time to build that foundation with God again, losing Faith would have been much
more devastating.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMKMmUYQfdZpCdlrgi6DFveV0kcGUxPqgSNxZzraUlrV9GUZMPtnXL-abyMFrAs17TIzU2Rlpg5ZSsKDeUzzhpVEX1JZykGmpLcvZ8eQWvowxfgW4Wd_Q3lmkV6nLrn4kKYgIO2A3flg/s1600/group+hug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUMKMmUYQfdZpCdlrgi6DFveV0kcGUxPqgSNxZzraUlrV9GUZMPtnXL-abyMFrAs17TIzU2Rlpg5ZSsKDeUzzhpVEX1JZykGmpLcvZ8eQWvowxfgW4Wd_Q3lmkV6nLrn4kKYgIO2A3flg/s1600/group+hug.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I learned how amazing and important my church family is.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In those nine days, our church family surrounded us with so
much love and support. They visited,
prayed, signed up to provide meals, hugged me, cried with me, and laughed with
me. Finding a good church family is so
important! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I learned it is okay to tell God I’m angry.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was upset. This was
my miracle baby, the baby that was prayed into me. This was the baby I’d prayed and tried three
years to conceive. I was angry that God
would let this happen when I’d waited so long.
A good friend reminded me that God was big enough to handle my anger.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I talked to Him about it.
I told Him I didn’t like what was happening, that I was scared, and that
I wanted my baby to live. He already knew
that. He listened and He wrapped His
arms of love around me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I learned that prayers are answered.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe not in the way I wanted. My baby died, despite hundreds of people
praying for her. But when she did die,
God was there every step of the way. He
comforted. He placed people and Scripture in my path right when I needed it. He supplied all my needs. He reminded me that Faith’s life has a
purpose. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Never, in all my life, have I felt closer to God than in the
last two months. My prayers were
answered because He never left me and He has not forsaken me. He has been my strength. My help came from the Lord.</span></div>
Charysehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01357561605306448701noreply@blogger.com0