Thursday, May 7, 2026
Sunday, April 19, 2026
Grieving
Achia died peacefully yesterday (April 17). She's with Jesus at last.
Yesterday began like a normal day in ICU with Achia. Dad and Mom have stayed overnight with Achia since last week Friday. My sisters went up to be there for the doctor visit and let our parents go for breakfast. Doctor said there were no near death signs and the still said hours to days but wouldn't say today. Same as we heard all week.
But doctors aren't God.
About 15 minutes later Achia's breathing changed. Dad and Mom sat next to her and whispered, go Achia. Do you see Jesus.
And Achia peacefully breathed her last breath.
God's mercy. She was peaceful, it was quick and my parents were with her.
I got the call that her breathing changed and Josh and I were out the door. (It was the only day this week we hadn't gone up by then...) On the way Achia died.
It was a long, hard, last walk up to that hospital room. And then the grieving began.
I read that your grieving is equal to how much you loved. And we all loved a whole lot.
But my parents loved Achia like no one else loved her. To see them cry over their little girl was heartwrenching.
Most of my siblings and their spouses were together in the hospital room grieving with our parents. It was a beautiful mix of sorrow and loss, worship and prayer, hope and heaven, remembering and goodbyes. As we worshipped I could see Achia in a white dress twirling before the Lord. Jesus took Achia home but He didn't leave us. He still grieved with us.
Achia saw for the first time and she saw the Savior. She spoke for the first time and it was praise. She can eat again after 3 weeks with no stomach. She has a new body. No disabilities, no seizures. New life, real life - forever.
The pain of leaving...final goodbye...is just too much. Honestly, I wanted to yell no, stop, I hate this, can't be true! Oh God. I am thankful we were together and went through it together. It was sad walk out of the hospital.
Going home to tell our kids...another grieving. No one knew what to do with themselves. How do you move on. Most of the Beute family gathered together for supper, to be together.
Pray for my parents. Their loss is so great, their arms so empty, house so quiet, hearts so broken. Everything in their lives has just changed. May the only One who knows and can mend their hearts meet them in their time of need - in every moment of their grieving.
I couldn't be more honored to be with my parents in this journey. They have taught us so much once again.
I love you Achia and God does too!
Friday, April 17, 2026
Lasts
Wednesday, April 15, 2026
Little Blessings
The hours have turned to days...only God knows the day, time and why.
We choose faith, hope and trust as we can't understand.
But love abounds in the waiting. From Achia, Dad and Mom, the family and overflows from Achia's room to the people around us, the hurting, and sick. God is still using Achia.
Today we got to take Achia for a walk! She always loved walks and sunshine so today was the day! It was a sweet moment for all of us. A blessing.
2 Corinthians 5:1-9 NLT
Friday, April 10, 2026
Last Hours
Goodbyes as Achia is down to her last day or hours. Our kids said their goodbyes. Now we sit with Dad and Mom and wait. It's quiet. Dad says Jesus is here with his hand out ready.
Come Lord Jesus!
Ordained
Yesterday was so hard again with Achia waning away yet she played with her round toy again. It just made dad and all of say what are we doing?!
Agonizing.
Today Achia is pretty out and resting which is better.
This morning I begged God to speak and assure us. I read psalm 139 and verse 16 says God ordained Achias days before she was born. Hedecided, He knows the day, He knew this would be the way. Nothing we did, didn't do or decided makes a difference, God ordained it. I rest in that truth.
Prayer from my friend:
Father,
You see every layer of this. You saw her as a child hungry, unseen, hurting. And You see her now surrounded, loved, held. So right now, I’m asking You rewrite what this feels like in their hearts.
Where it feels like she’s suffering, remind them this is not that. This is not neglect. This is not abandonment. This is a body gently shutting down as You prepare to bring her home.
God, cover Achia in peace. If there is any discomfort, ease it. If there is any fear, quiet it. Let her feel safe like she’s being carried, not left. Let her feel full in a way that has nothing to do with food full of love, full of warmth, full of You.
And God… for Mandy be so close to her right now. In every moment where her heart feels like it’s breaking in slow motion, hold her together. When her mind drifts back to what Achia endured before, and it mixes with what she’s seeing now, step in and separate those things. This is not suffering alone. This is being surrounded by love.
Give her peace when she feels helpless, rest when she can’t fix anything, and the quiet assurance that just being there is enough.
Let them feel You in the room steady, present, near. And God for her parents the ones who chose her, loved her, raised her please be their strength right now. This is not how a parent ever wants to love their child to sit and watch, to not be able to stop it.
When it feels like they’re letting her suffer, when old wounds try to rise up and speak lies, silence that with truth.
Remind them: they did not fail her. they gave her love, safety, and a home. And now they are loving her all the way to the end. Hold them together when the weight feels unbearable. Sit with them in the quiet, in the waiting, in the grief. Let Your presence fill that room thick, undeniable, gentle. Bring a peace that doesn’t make sense, but somehow steadies their hearts anyway. And in every moment that feels too heavy, whisper it again and again that you are there. She is safe. She is loved. She is going home.
Again I thank you for this beautiful family and allowing me to see your love in action through them. I love you and I give you all the praise.
In Jesus name Amen.






















































