Category: Carley (Page 9 of 11)

Oligopistos

May 17, 2011 / Allan / 0 Comments

Our youngest daughter, Carley, is quite the artist. She’s always drawing, always creating on the computer, always painting and coloring. And she loves to read. She’s insatiable. Voracious. She’s the kid who won’t put her book down while she walks from the couch to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She walks and reads. She packs a book for every four-minute trip to Wal-Mart or seven-minute ride to church.

And, she’s very talented. Of course. Duh.

Now I’ve been blown away by a poem Carley wrote for a 5th grade contest at Green Valley Elementary. She read it last night at their poetry recital in front of over a hundred students and parents. And, yeah, it’s very good.

Faith will spread through hearts and minds;
Oh, a feeling so divine.
It lifts you up to higher ground,
saving you from yourself.
Though hope is gone and love is dead,
faith still lives on strong.
So walk with pride, but do not test;
come from the shadows and from the dark;
let this feeling fill your heart.
Come with me; keep your eyes on the prize;
walk on water; fly above.
But come with me, oligopistos,
ye of little faith.

That’s right. My eleven-year-old daughter incorporating some New Testament greek into her fifth grade poem. What could possibly make her preacher daddy more proud? If she ever finds a word that rhymes with homothumadon, look out!

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The trash-talking started long before the Mavericks had completed their historic sweep of the Lakers. My sister, Rhonda, who lives in OKC with her basketball freak husband and kids, began texting Whitney and me with predictions of doom for Dallas if they were to meet their beloved Thunder in the conference finals. Once the Mavs beat LA, I started it back up again with, “Would you rather your Thunder beat Memphis in seven games and get swept by Dallas, or lose to the Grizzlies and avoid the humiliation?”

Rhonda and Geoff were in the arena up there in January when the Mavs beat the Thunder in a regular season game in OKC. And they took exception to the way Jason Terry celebrated and, in their words, taunted the crowd. So I get this picture from Geoff on Sunday:

Oh, yeah. It’s on. I’m a little concerned about Kidd and J. J. Barea because the Mavs are facing a young athletic set of guards for the first time all postseason. And there’s no way Dallas will have the same open looks at three-pointers that they got against the older, worn-out, slow to rotate Lakers’ front court. In the end, though, OKC doesn’t have an answer for Dirk. And Tyson Chandler ought to get about five blocks per game. Kevin Durant may average 30-points in this series. And this may very well be his coming out party. But the Mavs will prevail. It just won’t be easy. Dallas in six.

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We hauled the girls out to the Dallas Arboretum on Saturday to take in the beauty of White Rock Lake and all the blooms of spring. We also wanted to check out my great friend Kevin Henrichson’s Little Mermaid castle. Kevin’s architectural firm, GHA, designed and constructed the grand-prize winning castle last February as part of the Dallas Blooms exhibits. And it’ll remain on display there with the other fairy tale castles at the Arboretum through the remainder of 2011.

The castle was nice and all, Kevin, but, honestly, I’m much more interested in your other major design and construction project. Please hurry up and get that In-N-Out location built on Precinct Line!

Peace,

Allan

Believer or Convert?

October 29, 2010 / Allan / 0 Comments

So, the Giants go more than four weeks without scoring more than five runs in a game; now they’re the first NL team in history to score nine or more runs in the first two games of the World Series. San Francisco scores six runs or more in an inning just five times the entire regular season; now they’ve done it twice in two days. Edgar Renteria has only hit one homerun since July 27, and that was over eight weeks ago; until last night. C. J. Wilson’s only given up ten homers all year. Last night’s was huge. And how does Kinsler’s fifth inning homer bounce off the top of the wall back into play for a double? That bounce defied all the eternal laws of physics!

Yes, Cain and Lincecum have been tremendous. Yes, the Giants are getting some really timely hits. But this 0-2 hole isn’t about the Giants. And it’s not about fate or luck. It’s about the Rangers.

Yuk.

Young and Hamilton and Cruz are hitting a combined .120 in the World Series. Young is 1-8. So is Hammy. Last night the Rangers went 0-8 with runners in scoring position.

And I’m tired — very, very tired — of watching Ron Washington play Bullpen Bingo. It’s not working.

Q: How many Rangers relievers does it take to get one out?
A: Three

Whatever Derek Holland was screaming into his glove when Wash came out to pull him and again as Holland walked to the dugout, I concur! He throws 13 pitches, 12 of them balls, and walks the only three batters he faces. As my great friend, Jim Gardner, told me this morning, Holland is the new Walker, Texas Ranger.

Is it so impossible to leave O’Day out there for more than one batter? Why is Holland even out there? And what about Lowe and Kirkman? Who are Lowe and Kirkman?!? Is Ogando not an option? Feliz didn’t pitch in Game One and today is a day off. What are we waiting for with him, to be available for the first game of the Cactus League?!?

Only eleven teams have ever come back from an 0-2 hole to win the World Series.

Colby Lewis could be the stopper we need. It could all turn around tomorrow. The lineup will be back to normal. The Rangers had the best home record in baseball this year. The games will be at night. The fans will be sporting claws and antlers instead of pandas and beards. The Rangers are not done yet. There’s still a chance Washington knows something we don’t. There’s still a chance he knows what he’s doing. He’s proven most of us wrong all year.

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In our efforts to run away from old 1950s & 1960s Church of Christ sectarianism, I fear we’re in danger of mindlessly trashing good traditions and leaving behind strong concepts and words. Now, don’t get me wrong, we do need to run very, very fast away from any form of sectarianism. That should be condemned in all of its various evil forms. But sometimes in our zeal to be different, we tend to go overboard the other way.

Have you noticed that we don’t use the word “convert” anymore?

He is a convert. When did she become a convert? Fourteen men and women were converted during our mission trip.

We don’t use that term anymore. Maybe it’s more cultural than theological. It’s possible we don’t even realize we don’t say it anymore. It’s probably not a conscious decision. But I think it does have consequences.

Conversion means to change. To alter. To make something different than what it was before. To transform something. We have conversion vans. We have converted garages. And disciples of Christ are to be converted people.

Shane Claiborne, in his book Jesus for President, says this about conversion:

“We need conversion in the best sense of the word — people who are marked by the renewing of their minds and imaginations, who no longer conform to the pattern that is destroying our world. Otherwise we have only believers, not converts. And believers are a dime a dozen nowadays.”

What the Kingdom really needs is a bunch of people who believe so much in Christ and in the salvation of the world that we cannot help but live it. We believe so much in God’s righteousness and justice that we enact it. We’ve been changed so much by Jesus’ love and mercy and forgiveness that we take it and bring it and share it!

Even the demons believe and shudder.

The Kingdom needs converts.

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I can’t help but leave you with this picture of Carley. As part of their annual Red Ribbon Week to raise drug and alcohol awareness, today is 50s day at Green Valley Elementary. She’s definitely the cutest girl at the sock-hop!

Peace,

Allan

Marvelous Falls

October 26, 2010 / Allan / 0 Comments

Who knew the Cowboys season would be over before the Rangers’? How many points would the Giants have scored if they hadn’t had five turnovers? How long until Wade reminds us that, “Hey, it’s not like we haven’t won a single game!” I think a lockout/strike is the best thing Jerry Wayne can hope for. He may be trying to figure out how to make it happen today.

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We spent right at 24 hours in Marble Falls this past weekend, helping the church family there celebrate their 65th anniversary and homecoming and grand opening of their brand new church building. And for most of those 24 hours, I was an emotional wreck. I was really surprised by my own reactions to being in that place with those people. It caught me off guard.

Carrie-Anne and I spent seven years in this place with these people when I was the News and Sports Director at KHLB from 1991-98. We went to football games together. We had babies together. We sang at funerals together. We rang in new years, we visited hospitals, we coached T-ball, we fished and fixed cars and worshiped God together. We survived a tornado together. Whitney and Valerie were both born into that church family. I was a deacon and led worship with that group of Christians. We prayed with the Clarks. We laughed with the Futrells. We painted Cathy Chrismon’s house. We roofed Dan’s houses. We went Christmas caroling. We taught VBS. Donna Preston helped us buy our first home on Hackberry Drive. From Bessie Ruth.

And when we left in 1998 for the greener pastures of sports talk radio on WHBQ in Memphis, Buck Burdett told me we’d be back.

I swore we wouldn’t.

But in 2005, needing a place to live and work while I received my Master’s Degree at Austin Grad, I called up Don Graves. And they welcomed us back with open arms. It wasn’t so much that they hired me part-time as it was they agreed to help support us as I studied. We moved right into Kyle and Marti’s rent house. And right back into that church family.

I was youth minister for a stretch. Worship leader. Preacher. Interim preacher. Bible class teacher. Men’s minister. Involvement minister. And I learned. And learned. And learned. I worked alongside Jim Gardner as he became the new preacher there. I watched Jimmy Mitchell pour his heart and soul into our kids. I sat at the feet of Jim Dobbs and benefitted greatly from his wisdom and experience and encouragement and love. During those 22 months, I learned as much in and with the Marble Falls church as I did at Austin Grad.

And now here we were again on Sunday. Back in Marble Falls. Back with these people who have shaped us and loved us and supported us and taken care of us.

I forget how much I really love them until I’m right in the big middle of them.

I’ve never hugged and been hugged so much in all my life as I was Sunday. The hugs just kept coming and coming and coming. Carrie-Anne and I truly felt loved. And appreciated. And valued. We felt like we really belonged. It felt — in a weird way that part of me hates to admit — like home.

How do you make it through “It Is Well With My Soul” in the middle of all that?

We love our church family in Marble Falls. And we pray for all of you God’s richest blessings of grace and peace.

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I’ll try to spend the next couple of posts getting caught up on a variety of things. Again, thanks for your patience with the blog. It’s been a weird past couple of weeks. I still don’t have this thing totally where I want it. But we’re getting there.

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Where were you when the Rangers won the pennant? We were in our living room, watching history unfold together as a family. The microfiber couches were cold since we’d all been standing since the beginning of the eighth inning. I couldn’t hardly concentrate during the ninth, I was so completely distracted by the losers behind home plate who were holding up that huge Texas flag — upside-down! I kept thinking surely somebody would notice and tell them to turn it right-side-up. I was upset that we would be watching the highlights of the last out for the rest of our lives and the Texas flag in the background was going to be upside-down. I was beside myself with the joy of anticipating the perfect poetic justice of Alex Rodriguez making that last out. What could possibly be better than A-Fraud swinging and missing to push the Rangers (it’s just him and 24 kids, remember?) into the World Series? How delicious! And then he actually struck out looking! Even better! Absolutely, wonderfully, deliriously better!

We exchanged high fives and hugs. Steve Fleming called Whitney to offer his congratulations. We grinned as the trophy was presented to Wash and Nolan and JD. We nodded with approval as Josh Hamilton collected the MVP award and, instead of talking about himself, talked about his teammates.

Then Whitney and Carley and I piled in the car to head out to Academy to get our official Rangers World Series T-shirts. We stood in line for just over an hour with hundreds and hundreds of other long-suffering Rangers fans who just couldn’t believe what was happening. It still didn’t seem real to any of us. We cheered and chanted as the line snaked through the parking lot and around the building. Horns were honked. We saw the Flemings and Brightwells and Drakes and even Wayne Steele. The girls saw a couple of their friends and teachers from school. Are the Rangers really in the World Series? They must be. That’s what my T-shirt says.

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Saturday morning, Valerie and I left at 7:00 for the All-Region Middle School Choir auditions in Arlington. 7:00 Saturday night we got the email notifying us that she had made it! God has given Val a beautiful soprano voice and a desire to use it to his glory. And we couldn’t be happier or more proud.

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Leaving town Saturday afternoon on the way to Marble Falls, we drove through the tornado on Loop 820. I knew something was weird. The sky looked ominous and there was an unusual amount of debris flying through the air. But it wasn’t until traffic stopped and we eventually crawled up to the twisted exit signs that we realized it was more severe than just a thunderstorm. We got past the jam, turned on the radio, and listened to Brad Barton talk about the tornado that was moving through Richland Hills and into Euless. Good gravy, we had driven right through it! Jennifer Gambill, our children’s minister who lives just four or five streets away, was just unpiling the mattresses and emerging from her closet when I called. Everything was fine.

There were clear skies yesterday afternoon when the high winds split a tree on Holiday Lane and pushed it on top of our van as I was driving to Richland High School to pick up Whitney. Carley was in the front seat with me. I was driving about 30 m.p.h., in the right lane, when I commented to Carley about how crazy windy it was. And just a second or two later, the tree blew over right on top of us. She screamed. I reached out to brace her. It was so loud. I thought her window had shattered. It was so weird. And unexpected. Who has a tree fall on top of their car while they’re driving?!? The window wasn’t broken. But the car is scratched up from the headlights to the rear window. And Carley’s heartbeat just now got back down to normal.

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Finally, Carley’s elementary choir marched and performed in last night’s Richland High School Homecoming parade. We saw Lisa Clifton in the Chick-Fil-A truck with the cows. The creepy female Rebel mascot with the empty eyes. Several friends from church and school. And a bunch of homemade signs that declared allegiance to Richland High AND a nod to the Texas Rangers. It’s cool when the football team is giving the claw to the parade-watchers.

Peace,

Allan

Happy Birthday, Bear!

September 10, 2010 / Allan / 1 Comment

Eleven years ago today, September 10, 1999, the Bear came screaming into our lives in a hospital room in Wichita Falls. And she’s been screaming ever since. Carley Renae screams in delight while riding the drops and twists on the Titan. She screams when she’s irritated with her big sisters. She screams in the swimming pool. She screams when she calls us to dinner. And she screams when somebody sits on her book or accidentally bends a page or creases a binding.

She’s the Bear.

She’s assertive. She’s loud. She’s determined. She’s single-minded in what she wants and what she believes. She lets everybody know what she’s thinking all the time. And she’s fiercely independent.

She never asks us to do anything for her. She always wants to do it — whatever it is — all by herself. She does major school projects on her own, without even telling us she has a major school project, and gets an “A.” She cooks her own meals if we’re taking too long. She’s always picked out her own clothes (which has developed into her distinct Bear-style: cut-off shorts, T-shirts, and Chuck Taylor high-tops). And she doesn’t want anybody telling her what to do.

She has perfect eyebrows. It seems like she loses a tooth every eighth meal. She’d rather sit alone in her room and read a book than do just about anything else. Except maybe Dodgeball. She loves Dodgeball. She thinks she’s stronger than me. She jumps and slaps the attic access cord every single time she passes through the hall. She plays hard and she’s got the bruised up knees and scratched up elbows to prove it. She appreciates good jokes. She claims she never cries. She wants a gerbil. Bad. She thinks she’s a ninja. She rocks out to Van Halen and Aerosmith and rolls her eyes at the Jonas Brothers and Taylor Swift and all that junk Valerie listens to. She loves horses and dogs and, right now, for some reason, wolves. Her ears are a little tiny bit crooked. Everytime the phone rings, it’s for her. She’s too big for birthday spankings, but she gets upset if I don’t sing School Bells on the first day of school or we don’t watch It’s a Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve. She still thinks boys are gross. She still thinks it’s cool when I eat lunch with her in the school cafeteria.

And so do I.

Carley brings me so much joy. I love just talking to her. She asks really, really good questions. About the world. About literature. About people. She likes to antique shop and look at old pictures and talk about things that happened before she was born. She’s really talented. She’s super smart. She sings like an angel. All the other kids like her. And she likes all the other kids. I’m continually amazed that when I pick her up from school, she seems to at the very center of the biggest crowd. Every day.

God has blessed me so much with this wonderful third daughter. She’s in her last year of elementary school now and growing up so stinkin’ fast. Too fast. And I really do believe she is very special. God has given her lots and lots of unique talents and gifts and abilities. I believe that God is going to use her in huge ways for his Kingdom on this earth. By his power and grace, Carley’s going to do something really big for our Lord. I don’t know what yet. She might wind up writing tons of inspirational books to encourage God’s people to love each other. She might teach or headline spiritual seminars and lead thousands of disciples of Christ to a better life in him. Although we’ve told her repeatedly she can’t ever date anybody who’s not from Texas and she can never, ever live outside the Lone Star State, Carley might very well travel to the other side of the globe and dedicate her life and all those God-given talents to the Lord who saves her. I don’t know exactly what she’s going to do for God and his Kingdom. But it’s going to be something big.

I can tell.

I love you, Carley Bear. Happy Birthday, girl.

Dad

I Owe You a Post

April 12, 2010 / Allan / 2 Comments

It’s been a full eleven days since my last post. Sorry. Thank you. Let’s get caught up.

(As always, click on the images to get the full size)

We had a fantastic couple of days at LTC over the April 2-3 weekend. Lots of gold, silver, and bronze brought back to Legacy from the DFW Hyatt. My favorite part of Leadership Training for Christ is going to as many of the events as possible and cheering on all our kids. Encouraging them. Telling them what a great job they did. Recognizing in them the great gifts they have from God and seeing in them all the wonderful ways our Father will use them to his eternal glory. I love laughing with them and patting them on the back and hugging them after a job well done. Our teachers and volunteers do a great job with LTC here at Legacy. And the kids always respond with award-winning performances.

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Our four-day Resurrection Renewal was a God-glorifying, Church-edifying, Gospel-verifying event that started Easter Sunday morning with 1,200 men, women, and children lifting our hearts and voices to God in praise and thanksgiving for the empty tomb. Four days of participating in the Resurrection accounts from Holy Scripture. Four days of basking in the power of the Resurrection and gaining new strength in our Resurrection hope.

Two brand new souls experienced their own resurrections Wednesday evening as they were buried with Christ and raised to walk in newness of eternal life. Five of our brothers and sisters publicly confessed their sins and asked for the prayers of their church family as they declared their own new beginnings.

I’m so proud of my Legacy family. We baked cookies and served refreshments. We greeted visitors and held doors. We organized and taught fun interactive children’s classes. We invited our friends. We wore empty tomb T-shirts and passed out flyers. We were/are the kind of church family — the kind of Resurrection Community — to which anyone would want to belong.

And it’s not over.

I’m so encouraged by the conversations I’m overhearing in the hallways during and following our Resurrection Renewal. We’re thinking and talking about the right things. Our attention at Legacy is shifting from an inward to an outward focus, from one of being served to one of serving others. This is just the start. We’re going to keep inviting our friends to Legacy. We’re going to keep talking about the Resurrection. We’re going to keep paying more attention to the lost than to the saved. And we’re going to remember that the Resurrection is not simply something we sing about or teach. It’s not something we merely believe. The Resurrection is who we are.

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By the way, many of you have been asking about the three-minute video we showed at the end of the sermon Easter Sunday morning. The audio was from a sermon preached by S. M. Lockridge called “The Seven-Way King.” The video images were produced and edited by Albert Martin. Jeff Walling has used the video on several ocassions at WinterFest and the Tulsa Workshop. You can check out the video again by clicking here.

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For the second time in three years, Whitney wound up winning the annual Stanglin Bracket Racket. She correctly picked Duke to win it all and edged me out by a total of six points in our family college basketball pool.

I kept hoping and waiting for the Hoosiers miracle. I kept wishing for Shooter to show up and coach the Butler Bulldogs into a picket fence play with Jimmy Chitwood / Gordon Hayward hitting the game-winner at the buzzer. Only in the movies, I guess.

Whitney also, last January, correctly predicted the winner and the final score of the Super Bowl. Seriously! She not only chose the double-digit underdog Saints to beat the Colts, she picked the exact final score! We’re taking her to Vegas tomorrow. Or maybe to the QT to at least buy a couple of lottery tickets.

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We got to see lots of old friends this past Saturday night at the annual Oklahoma Christian University Alumni and Fundraising dinner here at Legacy. It was the biggest North Texas dinner to date. Tons of money raised and pledged for the new Bobby Murcer Athletics center and for scholarships to deserving DFW kids. The highlight for me was catching up with my old Delta buddies and reliving our quests for All-Sports trophies and Spring Sing laughs. What OC event would be complete without a Delta Alumni photo?

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Whitney and Valerie were in Glenrose for a youth retreat. Carrie-Anne stayed in bed. So Carley accompanied me early, early, early Sunday morning to the Red Lot on the northeast side of Texas Stadium to witness in person the implosion of that iconic landmark. We woke up at 4:00am, got there at 5:15, (we handed the parking lot attendant $25, he handed us four boxes of Kraft macaroni and cheese) and worked our way to the front of the barricades to hear — and feel — the concussions of the dynamite and suck the concrete and steel dust into our lungs.

I still can’t really imagine that Texas Stadium doesn’t exist anymore. My aunt LouAnn took me to my first ever Cowboys game in that building when I was twelve. I saw Drew Pearson’s consecutive-games-with-a-catch streak end in a close win over the Patriots there with Paul Barron. I wore my blue Roger Staubach jersey. Paul politely asked me to stop yelling so much through my Cowboys popcorn container which doubled as an effective megaphone. I think the people in front of us were giving us looks. When I was 15, Mike Cunningham and I got thrown out of an SMU-Texas Tech game there for dropping ice cubes off the second deck. When I was 16, Todd Johnson and I froze to death there in a miserable January Cowboys playoff loss to the Rams. I remember a two-touchdown fourth quarter performance by Chuck McSwain there in a pre-season win over the Dolphins. I remember a wild Sunday night shootout with the Raiders with five other high school friends. We jeered Marc Wilson and I ate too many bugles. And I was in the stands when a rookie Troy Aikman outpassed Dan Marino in a close loss in ’89.

I was also blessed to roam the sidelines, pressboxes, and underground tunnels at Texas Stadium for four seasons as a radio reporter for KRLD and AM 990. I ate my meals across the hall from the locker room. I ticked off Bill Parcells and made Terrence Newman laugh. I squeezed through the crowds to interview quarterbacks and linebackers and enjoyed leisurely conversations with offensive linemen and kickers. I rode elevators with movie stars and singers. I met Tex Schramm there. I shared work space with the giants in the sports media industry, some of them my heroes of the past and present. I was there when a Thanksgiving Day halftime performer caught on fire. And I was part of the standing ovation when Emmitt Smith passed Walter Payton.

Even after watching it completely collapse into a pile of debris yesterday, I still can’t really imagine that Texas Stadium is gone. I saw Tom Landry coach there. I saw Staubach throw and Tony run. I can still see the end zone scoreboard flash “Martinized!” after a huge Harvey Martin sack. I can still hear Tanya Tucker’s “When I Die” after every Cowboys touchdown. And I can still hear Tommy Loy’s trumpet playing the national anthem.

Thank you, Carley, for going with me and for screaming, “That was awesome!” at the top of your lungs when Texas Stadium was demolished. Forgive your dad for not feeling the same way.

Peace,

Allan

Carley's Crutches

November 20, 2009 / Allan / 2 Comments

It’s Achilles Tendonitis. We’re not sure what’s caused it or even exactly when it happened. X-Rays show us that there’s not a tear or a fracture. But Carley’s achilles tendon is stretched out and even frayed in a couple of places where it connects to her heel. The doctor says it’s probably overuse. She’s been doing gymnastics lately in PE. And she and I have hit tennis balls three or four times over the past couple of weeks. But who would have thought this could be a result? She’s only ten-years-old!

Doctor’s orders Tuesday afternoon were for a pair of crutches. Carley is not to put any weight or pressure of any kind on her right foot for two weeks. Fourteen days. Total rest for quick healing. Every step she might take on it only slows the process down.

We got home from the imaging center at about 2:00 Tuesday afternoon. The appointment to have the crutches fitted was for 5:45. And for those three-and-a-half hours, I carried Carley all over the house. Upstairs. Downstairs. She wanted to hop. I wanted to carry her. She wanted to crawl. I wanted to get things for her. Shoes. Clothes. Snack. Books. Let me do it for you, honey. Let me help you.

She hated it.

“Dad, I’m not helpless!”

“Dad, I don’t like being needy!”

Carley is our most active child. And our most independent. These past three days have been awful for her. She’s always wanted to do everything for himself. Even today with her little foot hanging by a thread. The last thing she wants is to be needy.

Just like all of us. We hate to be needy. We never want to be helpless.

But that’s exactly what our God wants us to be. Needy. Helpless. Actually, that’s what we are in reality. Our God just wants us to recognize it. To acknowledge it. To embrace it.

Having real needs doesn’t reduce our lives. It doesn’t flatten anything. Being helpless allows us to receive from our Father every single wonderful thing he intends for us. Our needs — recognizing those needs — throws wide open the doors to God’s greatest blessings. If we try to live without needs, we’re trying to live without God.

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives; he who seeks, finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.” ~Matthew 7:7-8.

This is what it’s like to live in the real world God created. Receiving what is given. Just look at the sky and the seas. Flowers and bees. Husbands and wives. This is life. To gratefully receive. Life is a gift. God so loved the world that he…

…gave.

This is the way our God is. It’s how his world works. It’s how he operates in his world. It’s real.

And I hear my heavenly Father today telling me the same things I’m now telling Carley:

“Relax.”

“Let me get this for you. Let me give this to you. Allow me to take care of this for you. I want to give you every single thing you need. Please, just relax and receive it.”

Peace,

Allan

Category: Carley (Page 9 of 11)

Oligopistos

Believer or Convert?

Marvelous Falls

Happy Birthday, Bear!

I Owe You a Post

Carley's Crutches

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