<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016862657034147586</id><updated>2011-08-03T17:05:44.559-04:00</updated><category term='Darin Wales'/><category term='all about Jesus'/><category term='emails'/><category term='God&apos;s love'/><category term='Rush Limbaugh'/><category term='rich'/><category term='voice of God'/><category term='faithfulness'/><category term='retard'/><category term='Down Syndrome'/><category term='pancakes'/><category term='scam'/><category term='faithful'/><category term='retarded'/><category term='millions'/><category term='voice over'/><title type='text'>New Math</title><subtitle type='html'>When it comes to having kids, 2+1 DOES NOT = 3</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Darin Wales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03984403935741145450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_GUyQM8No3UA/SE9STSWjkZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Fu6OAy93tEY/S220/jdarwal.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016862657034147586.post-131714913256493894</id><published>2011-02-14T11:09:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-14T11:14:22.142-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Love Letter to My Son</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B6en4jb_neY/TVlShseIaQI/AAAAAAAAAC0/yn5q6lAt-YM/s1600/zane%2Bbasket%2Bsmall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 288px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B6en4jb_neY/TVlShseIaQI/AAAAAAAAAC0/yn5q6lAt-YM/s400/zane%2Bbasket%2Bsmall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573576752674400514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;style&gt;@font-face {   font-family: "Cambria"; }p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal { margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; font-size: 12pt; font-family: "Times New Roman"; }div.Section1 { page: Section1; }&lt;/style&gt;     &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;As you may or may not know, my son Zane is considered "Special Needs" due to him being born with Down Syndrome.  I don't know what it is about him, but he captures my heart every time I am around him, which of course is often.  Now I know he's my kid and every parent probably feels the same way about their kids, as they should.  This is just an expression of what I feel and experience when I think of my son Zane, his uniqueness, and our relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;PERFECTLY MADE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;By J Darin Wales&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;You are perfectly made&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;From the beginning the plan was set&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I knew you would be perfect and you are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;You may have imperfections yet you are still perfect&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And I love you perfectly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;How could I possibly love you more than I do today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;And yet, somehow, I seem to love you more everyday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;You are perfect&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I love everything you do and how you do it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I think about you all the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I can’t help myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am crazy in love with you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I love how you laugh, how you cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;How you hug, how you kiss&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I love how you forgive &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;so&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; quickly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" class="MsoNormal" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;In my eyes you are beautiful and I love you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal" face="verdana"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;You have been perfectly made&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: verdana;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9016862657034147586-131714913256493894?l=newmath123.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/feeds/131714913256493894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9016862657034147586&amp;postID=131714913256493894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/131714913256493894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/131714913256493894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/2011/02/love-letter-to-my-son.html' title='A Love Letter to My Son'/><author><name>Darin Wales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03984403935741145450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_GUyQM8No3UA/SE9STSWjkZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Fu6OAy93tEY/S220/jdarwal.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B6en4jb_neY/TVlShseIaQI/AAAAAAAAAC0/yn5q6lAt-YM/s72-c/zane%2Bbasket%2Bsmall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016862657034147586.post-1520444120788322673</id><published>2010-02-18T00:37:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T01:47:01.679-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Down Syndrome'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rush Limbaugh'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='retarded'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='retard'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Darin Wales'/><title type='text'>An Open Letter To Rush Limbaugh...</title><content type='html'>Rush,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been a listener of yours for nearly two decades.  I used to use the word "retard" or some dirivative thereof on a regular basis.  I used the word to describe anyone or anything I saw as dumb, stupid, ignorant or whose thinking, by my account, just was too way-off.  I used to use it all the time.  All the time that is, until my son Zane was born with &lt;span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1266471152_0"&gt;Down Syndrome&lt;/span&gt;.  At one point I bemused that this was payback for all the times I had used the term "retard" or for the odd occasion I would feign mental/physical retardation for a laugh from friends or those around me.  I now know that it wasn't payback... it was a pure blessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son is my hero.  He never fails to make me laugh several times a day and even makes me cry on many occasions.  Rush, until you have met and fallen deeply madly in love with someone who has a disability and had them profoundly change you, then you may never fully be able to appreciate the equally profound pain and sadness someone feels when such a derogatory term as "retard" is used outside its normal definition.  As you know, the word "retard" or "retardation" in themselves are not bad words.  "Retardation" is of course a clinical term.  But in our generation, the term has taken on a bad connotation--dumb, stupid, ignorant--something shameful.  So, when someone uses the word "retard" to describe or put down someone else, it is used in a &lt;span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1266471152_1"&gt;negative connotation&lt;/span&gt; implying that person is bad or that their condition is bad.  That connotation is then transferred back to my son, knowing as he will someday and as I know today, that by clinical terms he is "retarded".  To hear that word used as it most commonly is in our society today, saddens and angers me all at the same time.  My son is not bad.  On the contrary.  He is the biggest blessing in my life.  I have learned more about myself, God, and life from Zane than I could ever learn anywhere else.  He, like others with disabilities, is a sweetheart.  Please understand that the term "retard" does not have to be aimed at my son for this to cause pain--it usually isn't.  To people who are mentally disabled or those who &lt;span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); cursor: pointer;" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1266471152_2"&gt;love someone&lt;/span&gt; who is disabled, "retard" is on the level of the N-word for African-Americans.  It just isn't used except by racists.  It is on the level of spitting on a veteran.  Using the term in a joking manner doesn't lessen the pain nor excuse its use, no more than does using the N-word in a joke or a joking manner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I have a disdain for political correctness as much as the next person.  It is out of control and I can't stand it.  People are offended by anything and everything these days.  But this issue has nothing to do with political correctness and everything to do with decency and respect.  Decency my son deserves and the respect he wants and we as a society are able to freely give.  Rush, please reconsider your view and use of the word "retard".  In my humble opinion, your current view and use is quite beneath a person of your stature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;J Darin Wales&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9016862657034147586-1520444120788322673?l=newmath123.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/feeds/1520444120788322673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9016862657034147586&amp;postID=1520444120788322673' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/1520444120788322673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/1520444120788322673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/2010/02/open-letter-to-rush-limbaugh.html' title='An Open Letter To Rush Limbaugh...'/><author><name>Darin Wales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03984403935741145450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_GUyQM8No3UA/SE9STSWjkZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Fu6OAy93tEY/S220/jdarwal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016862657034147586.post-1099737841533974030</id><published>2008-11-05T14:53:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T12:51:46.058-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My Son Zane</title><content type='html'>I love all three of my kids equally.  I wouldn't want any of them not to be in my life.  But for this blog today, I will talk about my 5-year-old boy, Zane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't imagine life without Zane.  I find myself always wanting to love on him, whether it be a little hug, a love tap on the back, a quick kiss on the head, check on him while he is sleeping.  I just can't get enough of my boy!  Zane is utterly amazing to me.  Some days he has the energy of five kids, running all through the house shouting at the top of his lungs, "Dad!  Dad!  Mom!  Mom!", wanting to get our attention to say something to us or show us something, which usually only has meaning to him.  Or dancing, as only Zane can dance, endlessly to The Wiggles or some other show on TV.  Or having lengthy "wrestling" matches which usually are just extended tickle bouts--Zane doesn't want to tickle so much as he wants me to tickle him.  And that laugh... it is so wonderful, infectious, and funny.  Every once in a while, Zane will look over at my wife or me and will keep his gaze on us until we look at him.  And when our eyes meet, the biggest toothy grin comes over his face.  And when he tells me he loves me, I just melt, "Anything you want son--anything!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And Zane is the world's best cuddler.  He always tries to let you know exactly what he wants.  Zane will forcefully whap whap his hand on the chair or bed when he wants you to sit or lie down with him.  He scootches over next to me and I put my arm around him and we cuddle (I think I could sit there forever!).  And Zane loves to give kisses... and sometimes they are the very wet variety.  For some reason he likes to give them to me on the back of the neck--go figure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To say Zane lives life with reckless abandon is an understatement.  He is usually going all out or he is asleep (we have added deadbolt locks high up on our outer doors just to make sure he doesn't invade the neighborhood).  His enthusiasm knows no bounds.  Zane is also very loving, forgiving, and compassionate.  He has this knack for winning over people's hearts in no time.  All his teachers at school and church just adore him.  I have to admit, he is hard not to love.  Alas, Zane is not perfect.  He can be whinny, complain, and difficult to deal with when he doesn't get his way--typical 5-year-old.  For some reason, he struggles with daily transitions--TV time to dinner time, dinner time to homework time, bedtime.  We trust that he will grow out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never imagined that a child could bring me such joy, laughter, and love.  But Zane manages to pull it off every day.  He inspires me.  And obviously, I love to brag on my boy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nine out of every ten Down Syndrome babies are aborted.  Zane was a number ten.  Zane was born with Down Syndrome. And we love him just the way he is. Do we wish he hadn't been born with DS? Of course. Do we ask God to heal him every day? You bet. Can I imagine life without him. No way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wife and I aren't better than anyone else, but the thought of aborting our baby never crossed our minds.  We didn't have an amniocentesis done because of the possibility of it causing a miscarriage.  But we thought, "What difference does it make.  We plan to keep this baby even if there is some birth defect."  Little did we know of Zane's condition until the moment of his birth.  It was one of the happiest moments of my life while at the same time being one of profound sadness.  I knew immediately, short of a healing from God, my newborn would never do many of the things "normal" kids grow up doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over time, we got over the "normal" vs "handicapped" thing.  Zane is our son.  Period.  And we love him like crazy.  There are lots of evil things in this world.  Kids with Down Syndrome or other challenges isn't one of them.  But abortion is.  Deep down in everyone's heart, we know, as people, as humans, as one's with spirits, as creations of God, we know that abortion is the taking of an innocent human life.  It isn't right and we know it.  We may not want to admit it, but we know it.  May I never be complicit in the taking of an innocent human life.  Grace abounds for those who have.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zane is my son.  He has Down Syndrome.  And I cannot imagine life without him.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9016862657034147586-1099737841533974030?l=newmath123.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/feeds/1099737841533974030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9016862657034147586&amp;postID=1099737841533974030' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/1099737841533974030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/1099737841533974030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-son-zane.html' title='My Son Zane'/><author><name>Darin Wales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03984403935741145450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_GUyQM8No3UA/SE9STSWjkZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Fu6OAy93tEY/S220/jdarwal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016862657034147586.post-523907142881943</id><published>2008-08-05T22:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T23:43:59.380-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rich'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='millions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scam'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='emails'/><title type='text'>I'm Rich!  I'm Rich!</title><content type='html'>Sorry I haven't posted in a bit.  But you see, I have been VERY busy counting money!  In the past two weeks, a number of individuals from places such as Africa, England, Ireland and locations in Europe have emailed me saying they have cash to give me that is rightfully mine!... Approximately $59.5 million as a matter of fact.  I had no idea  that so many people all around the world even knew me, much less wanted to give me money.  Wow!  What a wonderful world we live in!  Oh, wouldn't it be so nice?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The very first time I got one of those emails saying there was an old account left to me in my name containing millions of dollars, I looked at the email very carefully.  I thought to myself, "Self, could this be true?  Do I know anyone in Zimbabwe?  Do I know anyone who was rich anywhere in Africa, much less Zimbabwe?"  Hmmm... couldn't think of anyone.  And all I had to do of course was send this new trustee of my millions a little vital information so that he could simply transfer the funds into my bank account... and vuala!  Instant rich person (me)! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for a couple of days, I actually naively contemplated trying to contact this person somehow to see if they were legit, when low and behold, another rich person in another country keeled over and left me a few more millions!  "Wait a minute, Self.  Something just ain't right here."  At that moment I knew someone or several someones were fishing to play me, and probably thousands of others, as the fool.  No way were there two very rich people in two different parts of the world who kicked the bucket on the same weekend and both wanted to leave me their millions.  What are the chances?  Zero, zip, zilch, nada.  No chance whatsoever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a scam.  Who in the world falls for that?  Well, I guess someone does occasionally to make it worth the crooks' time to send out the mass emails... by the droves!  I must have gotten at least 20 such emails last week alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After getting all these emails every week, week after week, promising millions, I began to look at the folly of such a situation.  It is nothing but a scam to get something from me... basically to separate me from my money.  In stark contrast to that folly is God.  What is He promising?  Eternal life, healing, forgiveness, meeting my needs, etc.  Has He delivered on all these promises to me yet?  Well, yes and no.  Yes, in that He delivered on all His promises over 2000 years ago.  No, in that not all the promises have come to fruition.  What is God trying to separate from me?  My sin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God does not send out emails or letters He can't deliver on.  His promises aren't empty.  And what does He want from me?  Just me, that's all.  All of me.  What do I get in return?  All of Him with all His promises.  Pretty good deal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9016862657034147586-523907142881943?l=newmath123.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/feeds/523907142881943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9016862657034147586&amp;postID=523907142881943' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/523907142881943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/523907142881943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/2008/08/im-rich-im-rich.html' title='I&apos;m Rich!  I&apos;m Rich!'/><author><name>Darin Wales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03984403935741145450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_GUyQM8No3UA/SE9STSWjkZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Fu6OAy93tEY/S220/jdarwal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016862657034147586.post-4536358881983798095</id><published>2008-07-13T22:14:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T22:27:14.614-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pancakes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faithful'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='faithfulness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God&apos;s love'/><title type='text'>Pancakes and Faithfulness</title><content type='html'>The other morning, my daughter Jing Lei broke her gaze from watching Hannah Montana to thank me for breakfast, “Daddy, thank you for the pancakes you made for me this morning!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re welcome, Jing.  They were the last two.  We are out of pancakes,” I replied  (Don’t be too impressed… they were the premade microwaveable ones).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, unexpectedly, she got up from her normal TV viewing position, which is about two feet from the tube, and walked over to me, vegging on the couch, and said, “Daddy, I love you.  I hope I never run out of you!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, man!  What a way to start a day!  Dad was on cloud 9 after that!  “Yes, Jing Lei.  We can buy you a new car today… why wait 10 more years when you turn 16?  Anything else you want?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I marvel sometimes at how faithful my kids can be to me.  I mean, no matter how much trouble they can get into at home, with timeouts, talks about apologizing, forgiving, and sometimes a little additional timeout to let things “soak in”, all three of our kids always want Mommy and Daddy and our love and approval when all is said and done.  I pray it is always that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now don’t get me wrong… I don’t think our kids are little hellions (I hope no one else thinks so!).  But they can get a little out of hand from time to time and are by nature selfish and sometimes self-centered.  Hmm….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever wonder why God is so faithful to us?  It’s not like He needs to be or even needs us at all.  Why would the God who created the whole universe, in all its complexity and beauty, need or want me for anything, much less be continuously, consistently, and completely faithful to me… especially in light that I am so unfaithful to Him on pretty much a regular basis in some area to some degree or the other?  Areas I’ve been unfaithful to God, at certain points in my life, just to name &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;only&lt;/span&gt; a few:  tithing, service, loving the unlovely, compassion, devotion, forgiveness, mercy, grace, etc., etc.… Holy Cow!  By man’s standards, I’m somewhat of a spiritual mess in some area of my life at most times if not all the time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sit back and compare my faithfulness (or lack thereof) to God’s faithfulness.  It’s really no comparison, but rather a stark contrast.  Where do I start?  God always forgives me even though I can hold a grudge.  God always provides financially even though my tithe may not be quiet what it should be.  God’s love for me is totally unconditional even though I can sometimes put conditions on my love for others.  God is always talking to me even though I may not always take the time to talk with him or even listen.  God is so patient with me.  I am so impatient.  The list seems endless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, why is God so faithful to me?  It certainly isn’t because I deserve it.  Thank God for that!  And I in no way have earned it… I would fall so short.  God is faithful to me because He loves me.  Plane and simple.  And why does God love me?  He chooses to.  Just like a loving dad adores his own kids, so does God the Father adore us.  My simple mind can’t fully understand God’s unflinching faithfulness to me and it doesn’t have to… the simple truth is that God is faithful to those he loves.  And by the way, we never have to worry about “running out” of our Heavenly Dad!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9016862657034147586-4536358881983798095?l=newmath123.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/feeds/4536358881983798095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9016862657034147586&amp;postID=4536358881983798095' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/4536358881983798095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/4536358881983798095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/2008/07/pancakes-and-faithfulness.html' title='Pancakes and Faithfulness'/><author><name>Darin Wales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03984403935741145450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_GUyQM8No3UA/SE9STSWjkZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Fu6OAy93tEY/S220/jdarwal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016862657034147586.post-6903059399916665270</id><published>2008-06-28T22:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T00:27:46.047-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='voice of God'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='all about Jesus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='voice over'/><title type='text'>I Heard the Voice of God...</title><content type='html'>... and He sounded a lot like that guy who does all the voice overs for movie trailers!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, let me explain.  I hopped in my truck the other day to run an errand--this time with no kids in tow.  I had gotten about 100 yards from my house when I heard this really deep, dramatic and booming voice come out of nowhere!...  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"What do you believe?" &lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a matter of a split second, all these thoughts flashed through my head--"Who was that?  Is that you God?  That is you, God!  No way... you're talking to me in a audible voice?  Cool!  Hold on.  No.  I'm hearing things!  I must be losing it!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as quickly as I had all those thoughts rush through my cranium, so did the realization that the voice I had just heard was now being followed by a full orchestra of movie-trailer-like music...   Hmmm.  Sort of sounds like the kids' DVD player in the backseat doing it's auto-play function after I started up the truck.  Sure enough.  Undoubtedly, this was some video build up to a soon-to-be-released movie from Disney.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as soon as I realized the voice from the back seat was not that of the Almighty, it struck me...  "Maybe it &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; God speaking, indirectly."  I know God can speak to anyone, anywhere, and at anytime, any way He wants to.  He used a donkey once in the Bible.  Who says He can't use some silly overblown movie trailer playing on a DVD and coming from the backseat of a forest green Ford Explorer Sport Trac with three kid seats strapped in?  His voice doesn't even have to be audible and most of the time, from my experience, it isn't.  It is usually still and small.  And of course, as my pastor said tonight in church, hearing the voice of God, no matter what the medium, is always subjective.  So was this really God asking me a question out loud?  Usually it is the other way around, and lately it goes something like this...  "Why did that happen?  When will this day be over?  How did this day go by so fast?  Why is it so hot?  Why is there smoke blowing up from North Carolina and making it stink here?  Will you please make it rain in the Dismal Swamp and put out those blasted fires?"  But now, my spirit was sensing that this really was God asking me a very simple but profound question.  Would I hear Him asking me or would I just hear the voice-over dude?  Would I blow it off as silly and over-spiritual or would I really consider the inquiry?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I continued down the neighborhood street, I figured I had better answer... it wasn't everyday that I heard a voice and considered it as possibly being from Jesus himself!  So, what &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;did&lt;/span&gt; I believe?  I quickly mustered up the pat answer for all Bible-believing Christians...  "I believe in God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  I believe Jesus died for my sins and rose again on the 3rd day."  You know, the usual stuff.  Then God spoke again.  This time it wasn't through the DVD.  It was that still small voice thing, asking, "Yeah, but what do you &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;really&lt;/span&gt; believe?"   Hmmm.  I paused for a moment and thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now you've got to understand that when I hear the voice of God, it usually goes through the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Darin Filter&lt;/span&gt;.  For me, my personality influences somewhat how something sounds or is said when it is coming from God--going through the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Darin Filter&lt;/span&gt;... not sure that happens with other people, but it does with me sometimes.  Anyway, as I thought more seriously about what I really believed, I came to the conclusion that "Yes, I believed in the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus for the forgiveness of my sins and that that was the most important thing in life for me."  At that point, God shot back at me sarcastically (going through the &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Darin Filter&lt;/span&gt;), "Then why don't you live like it?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ouch.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So often, I seem to make life all about me.  I don't intend for it to be, but self-centeredness seems to be second nature (really first nature, if there is such a thing).  No excuses... I choose to be self-centered and sometimes even choose to not think about the fact that I am self-centered, thus perpetuating even more self-centeredness!  As much as my ego hates to admit it, life ain't all about me!  What life is really all about, and what I concluded God was trying to get through my thick head for the umpteenth time, from that DVD voice over, was that "It's all about Jesus."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can say I believe all the right things until the cows come home, but if I don't live them out while I walk this earth, then my stated beliefs are empty, and then, do I really believe them in the first place?  Or am I just going through the motions?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9016862657034147586-6903059399916665270?l=newmath123.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/feeds/6903059399916665270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9016862657034147586&amp;postID=6903059399916665270' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/6903059399916665270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/6903059399916665270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/2008/06/i-heard-voice-of-god.html' title='I Heard the Voice of God...'/><author><name>Darin Wales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03984403935741145450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_GUyQM8No3UA/SE9STSWjkZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Fu6OAy93tEY/S220/jdarwal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016862657034147586.post-6147263516153581665</id><published>2008-06-09T09:52:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:21:39.177-04:00</updated><title type='text'>No Inhabitions</title><content type='html'>A Sunday or two ago God spoke to me in church.  That in and of itself is not so unusual as you would think or at least hope God would speak to you there on some level.  This time He pretty much blew me away.  At church, we sit in the front row.  This gives us a better view and it gives us a lot more room to allow our three kids to dance during worship, which all three love to do, Zane especially.  Zane is a dancer!  Zane is our 5-year-old son who was diagnosed at birth with Down Syndrome.  I honestly think he is one of the happiest boys on this earth.  He can find joy in just about any situation (except T-ball) and will dance, scream or babble incessantly (or do all three at once) whenever he is feeling joy.  Well, this particular Sunday, Zane was dancing up a storm during worship as usual.  When slower songs come as worship is typically transitioning into something else, I usually take hold of Zane as he wants to continue at full speed.  So I did that as we began to sing a slower song about surrendering to God.  Zane really wanted to get out of my lap, so after a minute I let him go, hoping he would make a break for the stage.  To my utter amazement, without looking around at anyone, he got down on his knees and put his face on the floor--bowing before the Lord.  Now some would say Zane was just imitating others around him and didn't really know what was going on.  I beg to differ.  As Zane was one of the first on the floor, other people began to come up to the alter and bow on their knees too.  I'm not saying Zane started it and others followed, not at all.  But I will tell you what God impressed upon me at that moment--that Zane is totally in tune with the Holy Spirit whether he totally realizes it or not.  When it comes to worship time at church, I think God speaks directly to his spirit and Zane obeys.  He dances with total reckless abandon, holding nothing back, and then gets on his knees when he feels something leading him to.  I don't know if anyone else noticed that morning, but it was an awesome thing for mom and dad to see for sure.  And one other thing God told me... "Zane is a lot more in tune to my Spirit than you are."  --A stout dose of humility, conviction, and reality for Dad to swallow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9016862657034147586-6147263516153581665?l=newmath123.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/feeds/6147263516153581665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9016862657034147586&amp;postID=6147263516153581665' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/6147263516153581665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/6147263516153581665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/2008/06/no-inhabitions.html' title='No Inhabitions'/><author><name>Darin Wales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03984403935741145450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_GUyQM8No3UA/SE9STSWjkZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Fu6OAy93tEY/S220/jdarwal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9016862657034147586.post-3689693970626485822</id><published>2008-06-02T17:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T16:35:12.821-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We Are Outnumbered</title><content type='html'>When my wife and I went from two children to three, I began to realize something in the dynamics of our family had changed more than just increasing the number by one... Suddenly, life got a little more complicated... we were no longer in man-to-man defense, but were now forced to play zone. We had three kids now!  I couldn't hold all my children's hands at one time when we crossed the street. And suddenly, I could no longer keep their names straight or even pronounce them correctly about half the time! Sometimes I even got the two cats' names mixed up! Was I losing it? Something else dawned on me shortly after adding #3--that God was speaking to me a lot through my kids. I think He had been doing so for some time, even when we only had two. But now for some reason, it was more evident. So, that is what this blog is about... what God is teaching me through my kids (and to some lesser extent, life in general). And sometimes what I see my kids doing and what I hear coming out of my kids' mouths hits me right between the eyes and I know it wasn't just them and some impulse... it was God-ordained.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9016862657034147586-3689693970626485822?l=newmath123.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/feeds/3689693970626485822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9016862657034147586&amp;postID=3689693970626485822' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/3689693970626485822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9016862657034147586/posts/default/3689693970626485822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://newmath123.blogspot.com/2008/06/we-are-outnumbered.html' title='We Are Outnumbered'/><author><name>Darin Wales</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03984403935741145450</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='22' src='http://bp1.blogger.com/_GUyQM8No3UA/SE9STSWjkZI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Fu6OAy93tEY/S220/jdarwal.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
