Uh-oh. Something is messing with me. I read this today:
"No, this is the kind of fasting I want: Free those who are wrongly imprisoned; lighten the burden of those who work for you. Let the oppressed go free, and remove the chains that bind people. Share your food with the hungry, and give shelter to the homeless. Give clothes to those who need them, and do not hide from relatives who need your help. THEN your salvation WILL COME like the dawn, AND your wounds will QUICKLY heal."

I have been searching for healing like someone dying of thirst in a desert. I have found 99% of the answer, I think, which is to go after God with everything I've got, simply to know Him more, not just to fix all my issues and fulfill all my wants. But I never expected the healing part to come in the latter 1% of what I found in the prophet's words. I have been looking for a quick fix and this is the first spot I've ever seen the Bible shoot it straight and tell me that my wounds won't just heal--- but heal QUICKLY!!! How? "By sharing food with the hungry and giving shelter to the homeless. By giving clothes to those in need and helping family that needs help." What on earth? What in the world does this have to do with healing my wounds?? I thought healing would come by someone rocking my hurts away??!! Give clothes to the poor?! I'm sorry to expose the raw selfishness and ugliness of my heart. I am ashamed, but it is what it is. If I am ever gonna become healthy and whole and like Christ, I'm gonna have to start somewhere.

It is embarrassing and humbling to admit that my major reason for wanting to give to the poor is selfish: to be healed. But if this is gonna have to be how it happens, then change me in the process. Maybe that's the point... as I get my eyes off my measly issues and focus onto what God considers a very important issue that is obviously near and dear to His heart. I'm just about all in. All I gotta do is run this by the husband. And knowing him, he'll be all in too.

If you don't think that God speaks in themes, well, He does. It's not coincidence. So after I read that verse, I read another blog today... and the title? "Christmas: Who's Birthday Is it Really?" Yes, you guessed... it was the blogger that I always blog about. Beth Moore said to pray to be like the people you admire, so I guess you can pinpoint who I'm praying to be like. Today Ann blogged about a tradition that started 10 years ago in her home when her oldest son challenged her Christmas theology right into a crisis of belief by asking the question: "If we sacrifice and give gifts to those we love on their birthday, then why don't we do that for Jesus on His birthday?"

It's been 10 years since the Voskamp families Christmas tree holds food for hungry children, clothes for unclothed babies, and water for those who can't drink... all in the Name of the real Birthday Boy. The gifts under their tree look a little different and none of them get opened on Christmas day, but are given away instead. I'm venturing out to say, but pretty confident, that salvation has fully come in the Voskamp home along with a quick dose of healing for that family. They have been healed by thinking about others. And in the meantime, those parents have given their children a gift of a lifetime: the gift of selflessness. That will keep them in good stead for the rest of their lives and allow salvation to thrive all their days long, with an ongoing salve for their wounds that come along the way.

It's time to do as Jesus suggested in His gospels: "Stop doubting and start believing." In other words, just do it. Don't think about. Don't mull over it. Don't get opinions or take a poll. Show immediate obedience. "This is how they will know they are My followers: by their obedience to Me and by their love for each other."

Snow. He came through.

Just when I thought I was giving out... and my faith was dying down, He came through. It's one thing to hope, or trust, or know, or believe that God will come through. And it's another to see it. And in the sweetest way. I have had a fettish lately with snow. Looking at snow scenes in ornaments. Watching movies with vintage snow scenes. Thinking about its purity and timelessness. And tonight--in Arknasas-- God let those little light and puffy snowflakes fall right before my eyes and right into my world.

The reality of its coldness as it touched my nose along with its gentle force as it hit my windshield as I drove was a tangible agreement that God is here. It doesn't always happen by things you can see and touch, but praise God, it did tonight. I was needing some of that. Sometimes it's faith and sometime's it's trials but sometimes you just get to sit back and be taken care of. The snow was like a little security blanket just wrapped right around me and is continuing to bring me security even as a type out these musings while it falls outside my window.

Thank you God for newness. Thank you God for perfect timing. You know just when to show up and just when to come save the day before we break. Thank you God for purity, without spot or blemish. Thank you God for whiteness. It represents so much refreshment that visibly and tangibly wipes a clean slate in life. Let that snow keep falling outside my window and let it keeping thawing my heart right to the very middle.

Hmmm... i hate the idea of writing about another blogger, but I must! And it's not just another blogger... it THE blogger of all time! Ann Voskamp. yeah, you've heard of her. She's also sold a book and made millions. And she did so by being thankful.

I went to her blog today and found the most precious pictures of... kittens. kittens. they were so tiny and sweet. one was drinking milk out of a blue bowl and the other was curled around a little girl's neck. I wish that I had a kitten right now. It seemed so easy to be thankful about what Ann was thankful about! It was those kittens thought brought her from a bad mood to a good mood today, so I'm sure if I had those then I would feel the same way! Isn't this a sad way of life... "if only i had her small area of thankfulness, i would too!: pout." I'm missing the point. What is it in my life that I have to be thankful for? Right now? as I sit on the couch from sleeplessness and another long day? What brings life to these dry bones? I look around my tiny apartment and search for what it is that could make me thankful. I look up at my tree and I find an ornament that has a snow scene on it. evergreens with frosted snow weighing down the branches. I find myself in that. My camera is broken, or i would post... I remember being in the first grade. We were asked to create a little scene inside of an empty checkbook box with a hole cut out of the top and sealed with wax paper. When you held it up to the light, it would make the little scene come to life. That is the first time I saw God. That scene is forever etched in my head. Thank you, God. Cottonballs and magazine cut-outs of a farm house with a fireplace and a long snow-covered road. I would secretly go get that little box and hold it up to the light for hours. In there, the awe of another world, of heaven I suppose, came to earth. to my little 5-year old eyes. I knew God was safe. If He was cozy enough to fit inside a little box and be huge all at the same time, I knew I wanted to be apart of Him.

So tonight... I don't have pictures of all of these thankful things. But I can list them. I am thankful for:
Little snow scenes in a box...
Colorado trees.
Jay saying "arrgh" like a pirate.
Pineapple.
Peace.
Sapphire rings.
Steadfast love.

Tonight I was driving back to our apartment with my love. The rain was glistening on the windows and each of us were in our own worlds. My husband's thoughts were faithfully directed towards the role of providing for our little family by getting the job done well. And mine were directed toward other thoughts.

Tonight I was feeling the question. Not just wishing it... feeling it. Like in the gut. Like in the throat, when you can barely swallow. How do you (or God?) build character so amazing that sets some apart from others? What if I am part of the "others"? What if somehow I never seem to get over those pains and questions that preoccupy my heart and even soul? How do you become a person whose life is running after God? Pressing in. Energized. Passionate. One-minded. Content. Steadfast. Not upset about every little thing. I decided to google the faithfulness of God and get some last-ditch effort glimpses of maybe an image that might spur on an answer for this unrest in my heart. This is what came up:


And this...


And this...


And...THIS.



If it is truly the grace of a Father holding his child's hand and saying with each fearful, ignorant step "this is the way, walk ye in it." And if it is truly the beauty of perfection that is supposed to be displayed even in the imperfection of marriage, then just maybe I can do this thing. I've never liked geysers. I have always seen them as more of a natural "disaster" and annoyance than creation. But tonight, when I saw that geyser, I realized that perhaps the sole reason it exists is to show that, indeed, there is a hand causing its power to release every. single. second. Faithfulness.

And finally, grace. God and I have long had an issue with grace. I'm sorry to be so raw. I understand that without grace, our Christian faith would have no doctrine. But I have so seen grace abused that, at times, I have been its worst skeptic. I have identified Jesus through the eyes of a passive grace hander-outer, like someone passing out candy to tricker treaters. Like a parent who wrongfully overlooks their child's sin, just to make it easier on themselves. Or like a cop-out for having to change, and saying that it's up to the other person to forgive. My heart's ugly places are evident, I know. But God is in the midst of working on them. And this, tonight, is the first time I have seen grace as something strong. As a geyser whose force does not stop. And a marriage that does not quit. But lasts.. and does so strongly, resolutely, and without faulter. Like a father that does not walk away, ever. But leads continually, hand in hand. Always, in perfection. Grace. Makes it possible to be able to stay in this race and just possibly become one of those who somehow run fast and furiously, all because they are being led--by hand that does not faulter-- and are allowed to fall.

i think i finally have a kindred spirit. but i don't know her. that's the only problem. She is an author. I have been reading her book lately--- One Thousand Gifts--- and i would venture out to say that it's changed (or is changing) my life. you are probably thinking, "oh yeah, don't worry, this is one of those book kicks that will wear off in a few months... the newest trend, like wanting to become a vampire because of reading the Twilight books or something. Or even a much holier aspiration... wanting to name your son "Aiden Wilson" because A.W. Tozer's book has changed your life so much." No, but really, I think I am actually beginning to change. And with C.S. Lewis (no, i would never name my son "Clive Staples" even though he's changed my life), I too, take comfort and refuge in the fact that, "we read to know we are not alone." And alone I am not. This author gets it.

And that is why she is my kindred spirit. Finally I have someone who's worries, anxieties, past pains, and debilitating trust issues are compatible with mine. But the beautiful part is that... she has a solution. No, she's not God. And no, her solution is not in finding Mr. Right. When you have severe trust issues, you either figure you are going to need to be single all your life (or at least live that way), become a professional worrier so as to keep yourself protected, OR just duck and deny that anything bad could ever happen on this fallen earth, so as never to be hurt. None of those options sound appealing to me. I really don't feel like medicine could fix this trust problem (though I'm sure it could treat the symptoms for me!) and my heart has been longing for a place to call home... for a long time. A place to know that even in the midst of pain, you can trust from your gut, that He is good. But I have been far too afraid to let Christ really be the resident and act like it because of the fear that He is only good if He keeps me from pain. I wish that were the case. I wish I could be teleported back to the garden and just skip this Earth thing that will end in a tribulation and a great battle. But I can't. My long lost mother and father fell into sin, and the truth is, I would have too if I had been the one hanging around that tree of good and evil. But I am on my own journey of redemption and reconciliation and though covered by the Lamb's clothing, I have been thrown out where signs of painful childbirth and toil are all that remain.

This newfound author-friend says that eucharisteo (fancy for thankfulness) is the way back to trust, the way back to God. I am skeptical. But I am on #23 of writing down my thankfuls to 1000, and i'll be honest, my heart gets a little bit bigger each time I write down something i'm thankful for. monarch butterfly flying freely. Does this thankful, eucharisteo woman really have the answer? Is it really possible that the more I name the little things that are sure, the more I will realize that He has taken care of me, ,\ for at least another day. Is this truly the way out of letting your pain and memories swallow you? Is this really the way to accept dying grandparents and thus the death of being a child in the arms of whismy and innocence? Is this really the way to move forward into love and out of the fear of betrayal and rejection? is this really the way to find the beauty in ugly and the purpose in pain? the glory in a man at wal-mart with half an eye and the life he must face in the midst of his pain? to find perspective when a mcdonald's employee gets moved from the front-desk counter to cooking fries and says, " but I so enjoyed it up here! getting to interact with people, you know what I mean?" i fear my perspective is off and I fear the only way out is by eucharisteo. My mom has always said that gratitude is what separates people who enjoy life with those who don't. I've always tried to ignore that, hoping that somehow I'd be found in the small percentage of those who just need a major "circumstance" change. And yet, I am beginning to see, that maybe she is right. Maybe she didn't know the work eucharisteo. Maybe each time I breathe my thankfuls to God, He stretches my heart just a little bigger and makes room for Himself? Maybe i can't make a home for him in my heart until it is stretched big enough for him to feel at home? And just maybe, all my spoken fears, worries, concerns, negativities have crowded out the moments which actually make room for him by speaking out my trust in the small ways he does come through everyday. One of the greats of history said that God tells the sun every morning with gusto, "Do it again!" May my lips marvel over the things that he does again and again day in and day out that speak of His surety. Eucharisteo.

wow. the busyness of... summer, wedding planning, birthdays, anxiety of moving to a new place and town and job and.... everything. is setting in. It is moments like these that you don't know whether to laugh, cry, or yell. It's crazy, because, moving for us-- or at least for me-- is going home. I pretty much guarantee that the first moment I step my foot onto Conway soil and march through the "new" Wal-mart doors for my milk and eggs that I will be a new woman. You will probably spot me and wonder why that woman looks so happy to be in Walmart. It's because I love that town! I believe God has our domains chosen from the foundation of the world and he has a reason for the boundaries of our lives that He Himself draws with His own two hands.

However, it is amazing how wherever you dwell--whether happy or lonely-- can very quickly become a sense of security and a source of familiarity. We have dwelt in two VERY humble abodes during the last year and a half of our stay in Searcy. And I do mean humble! The very first home was borderline poverty level, but you better believe that I turned that place into a home with curtains and all. You know it's bad when I seriously was PRAISING God that the paneling was painted. I couldn't believe that I had painted paneling to work with, compared to the other married housing that did not. That place soon became a refuge even though it's tiny 500 square foot walls often closed in quickly and drove us straight to the Sonic to get a bit of reprieve in the shape of a chocolate milk shake with extra whip cream and extra chocolate. These are the things that I will miss.

We shared our first Christmas in this little place. And we shared our first year here. It was marked with many fond memories and small town things like taking walks on campus and watching the debuting dollar movie down town as the "big" event for the week. I fear we may never see this quiet season again in this way until we are seventy. We also shared our very first married fights here, large and small, important and unimportant. We quickly learned that marriage was about a covenant and fighting for what does not feel good or easy along with giving up things like squeezing toothpaste in the middle. Here are a few pics from our first year at 700 East Center Avenue.

This was our first Christmas together. As a married couple. :)



I was soo proud of the work that was put into turning that little abode into a Christmas home! I was determined! And very pleased that I found a place to hang my stockings.... On either side of the tv...



This one was taken after we were snowed in with just about nothing to do!



So to wrap up this little post, we got kicked out of this precious apartment because of mold. About two months before we were supposed to make our trek down central Arkansas for good, black mold infested the place and took up some major residence in my lungs. It was both comical and annoying. I would wake up hacking at night and Seth would just look at me like, "those are some major allergies! maybe she's blowing them out of proportion..." thank goodness i wasn't! More proof for the pudding that this was the real deal and we needed out! When I saw the stuff show up on my black winter boots, I was done. I marched that black boot right up to the college Housing Department and got a reaction big enough to send us to an upgrade. And this was an upgrade. Air conditioning, dishwasher, and TWO rooms! Two rooms!! We didn't even need both of them! I feel guilty to this day for storing our stuff in that second bedroom.. All that to say that my lung testing was clear the very night we moved out. I didn't even fill the "early onset asthma" prescription prescribed for my health.

Here was our last meal in the mold-infested apartment. It sounds like we're getting the lethal injection the next day or something.... haha ;0

Couldn't Come Soon Enough

Well, well, well. I haven't touched this little page in a very long time. We all know that the purpose of blogs are to fulfill a place, personally, where we can go and pour out all of our thoughts and feelings. It is an outlet. Much less for the reader. More for the writer. And I am perfectly fine with that. Coming from a family of four girls, I have been well accustomed to the fact that if there is anything a stockdale girl knows how to do... it is to talk. My next aspiration is to be able to listen. And do it well.

For now, I must tell you about the thrilling little moment I had the other day. While on a very hurried trip to Hobby Lobby last week, I stepped into the door and something took away my breath. It was the sight of fall. Plain and simple! It was ceramic pumpkins and little scarecrow signs that read "fall's here!" and door hangers and spicy pumpkin candles and candy dishes for candy corn and further aisles filled with glorious shades of burnt orange and red. It looked something like this:



Let me tell you...normally, when I see the next seasons' items out 3 months early I about have a panic attack from the anger that I might run out of time to get everything done that I need to do in this season--much more to enjoy it! But this is the one season I welcome with open arms if it commerciallly comes TEN months early! It's so different than seeing santa clauses in the middle of fall or heart shaped teddy bears in the middle of Christmas or Easter bunnies the week of Valentine's Day for crying out loud!!! I just don't mind this one even in the heat of summer.

I must not have realized how busy this summer has been, until, when at the instant sight of a ceramic pumpkin, something in me longed to rest. To reflect. To quiet the busy summer schedules, as fun as they may be, and to turn the sunblock in for a nice cup of joe in a starbucks window. Summer is so wonderful for getting together with family, eating messy watermelon on a bright green lawn (or dried up weeds), celebrating the independence of our country, or even getting a much-needed vacation. But, somehow, fall beckons you further still. Further into your soul. Further into a personal time of a much-needed vacation with God. It helps you to look beyond a dayplanner and settle into a much needed routine, and not just one that involves sharpened pencils and pick up lines. One that allows your soul to rest and acknowledge that, indeed, there is a time for every season. And this one couldn't come soon enough.