GOD'S GOT THIS @godsgotthis - Tumblr Blog

Moving Forward

If I could pick up and move anywhere in the world it would be just thirty minutes down the road to the beach. Absolutely nothing compares to sitting on an old beach towel, toes in the sand, hair tangled up in the wind, and eyes set on the ocean. The ocean draws me in. I don’t even need to open my eyes to feel its mighty presence. The salty air, the gentle breeze, the crashing waves, it’s all so much bigger than me.

The vastness of the ocean is like the strange new expanse of my life. When Andrew died the life I knew before died with him. Everything changed. With change came new possibilities. An endless amount of options of what my life could be. But this new expanse, this new current going on inside of me. It’s pulling me forward away from the life I love, the man I love, and the home we built together. Just like the strong rip current of the ocean, I can’t fight the change. Fighting it only exhausts me more, and sends me searching for answers I will never find.

Instead I must embrace the change believing this current will not pull me under completely.

Will it pull me away from solid ground?

Yes.

Will it take me somewhere I have never been before?

Most certainly.

Will I eventually find solid ground again?

One day.

The next step forward in the life I did not choose is a move. A move away from the last place WE called home. The place where WE made memories together. The beautiful private retreat WE could envision in our minds from the first day we set foot on the property. The place where WE last: prayed together, cried together, laughed together, and dreamed together as a family of five. It is a sacred place. A beautiful memory I will hold close to my heart for the rest of my life.

As I boxed up his office this week I couldn’t take it anymore. With tears streaming down my face, I melted into his swivel chair looking out the office window into our beautiful front yard. As I sat and wept I remembered the last Instagram story he shared from that very spot. It was just two days before he died. He was working in his office preparing his message for Sunday and he snapped a quick video of our calm quiet front yard with the words, “not a bad place to study.”

He loved this house. He was proud of this place. He had vision for what it could be, and now we are saying goodbye. If he could see us in our grief and pain I am certain his heart would be shattered.

As we prepare to move out this week, I am grateful to be moving into a new place that is truly a gift from God. A giant hug from a loving Father who is holding us close to His heart. These last few months God has taken care of every single detail above and beyond what we could have ever asked or imagined. As we move forward and literally move out of our home I know He goes before us, He never leaves us, and He will make a way.

If you are like me caught up in the riptide of a life you did not choose, take a deep breath and exhale. You may feel utterly alone, but you are not. You may feel like nobody cares, but that is not the truth. You may feel like you are a burden, but that is an absolute lie. I know you are exhausted from the fight, I am right there with you. These trials are hard, downright impossible! But, together we can choose to keep moving forward. One minute, one hour, and one day at a time. Believing there is solid ground, and a happy beautiful life to be found off on a distant shore. God’s Got This.

In Him,

Kayla

Where is God when it hurts?

How can I believe in God, when life doesn’t go the way I planned? Why would a good God allow something so bad to happen? Where was God when Andrew died? Where is He now in my pain? Why didn’t He heal the mental illness? Where are you God when it hurts?

It was my sophomore year in college when I first discovered the depth of the love of God. The local church I attended at the time started something new called, “Third Wednesday”. The third Wednesday of each month was intentionally set apart as a way to slow down and seek God. On this day the church would be open for a morning session, a lunch session, and an evening session.

I was feeling far from God. The hype of freshman year had worn off and as a sophomore I was lost and lonely. I needed to seek God in a new way so I decided to give, “third Wednesday,” a shot. I headed into the morning session a skeptic. I felt insecure going alone but I knew I was supposed to be there, so I went. I am so grateful I followed the Holy Spirit’s lead, I will never forget how my faith and my relationship with God was transformed through the service.

The chairs were removed, the lights were low and soft acoustic music filled the room. I found an empty space and sat down on the floor soaking it all in, the presence of God covering me like a thick warm blanket. Half way through the session, one of the pastors came to the stage and started to read a passage I had never heard before. She asked us to close our eyes, relax our mind, and allow God’s powerful word to wash over us. I followed her lead and I was instantly broken by the love of God. I felt a divine release. Through the power of His word the God I once knew, the God I was searching for became personal, present, and powerful. The passage was Psalm 139:

You have searched me, Lord,

and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;

you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;

you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue

you, Lord, know it completely.

You hem me in behind and before,

and you lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,

too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,

your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

and the light become night around me,”

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

the night will shine like the day,

for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in the secret place,

when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;

all the days ordained for me were written in your book

before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, God!

How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,

they would outnumber the grains of sand—

when I awake, I am still with you……

Search me, God, and know my heart;

test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,

and lead me in the way everlasting.

What God revealed to me through His word was the key to unlocking a boundless relationship with Him. I came to realize He was always there, He never left me. Even when I felt alone, lost, confused, angry, and sad, He was there. Even when life didn’t go the way I planned, He was there. Even when it felt like all my friends and family abandoned me, He was there. What I discovered then and what I know right now in the depths of this horrific nightmare and unrelenting pain is, He is there.

The suffering and pain of this world does not diminish His power. God is near and He has made His presence known through my suffering. I have seen the hand of God more at work these last few months than ever before. He has already performed miracles above and beyond anything I could have asked or imagined (Ephesians 3:20). There were SO many miracles I actually had to start writing them down. Now I have an ongoing list in my phone to keep track of everything He has done. Itty-bitty miracles I may have missed before, to massive miracles I never could have dreamed were possible. This is the kind of God He is! He is good; He is near; He shouts in our pain; He catches our tears. He holds me in His loving embrace, even when I am laying on the bathroom floor screaming and crying uncontrollably, He is there. When I am cleaning up my son’s throw up for the 3rd time in one night, He is there. When I am face down on the newly planted grass and dirt weeping over my husband’s grave, He is there. When I can’t get out of bed because I am overcome with sadness and pain, He is there.

So where is God when it hurts? He is right there where He has always been. There is absolutely nowhere I can go to escape His loving embrace. I don’t have to earn His love. I don’t have to seek His love. I don’t even have to open my Bible. He simply loves me and is present because I am His! When we suffer, when we are in pain, when we are overcome with grief, God suffers with us. He is not distant or detached. He is near and He shares in our suffering. There will never be sufficient words to comfort, but the Word who became flesh is enough. Every single worry, every single grief, every single pain, every single doubt, every single bad terrible thing, all we CAN do when we don’t know what to do is lay it all down at the feet of Jesus.

In Him,

Kayla

Today Marks the Day

Can I be honest? As I woke this morning, there was a turbulent war stirring inside me.

Today marks the day. October 9. Three years ago today my dearly beloved, my one and only who I experienced true marital oneness with for 33 years left this earth and went home to heaven. It was a long and valiant fight against a very aggressive leukemia that stole him from our family. Stole him from his amazing life. After all the chemo, after the stem cell transplant, after the paralysis, after fighting through and honoring God in all of it.

David Stoecklein was my person, and I truly do get how amazing it is that I was privileged to have been married to him, to have known what oneness with another human can be. He loved me in a way I struggle to find words to describe. I loved my life with him. We served in ministry together, we raised three amazing children together, we started a church together, we fought the leukemia together. Everything together.

To mark the first year after David’s death, Andrew honored the day with an amazing blog post. It was a precious letter to his dad that meant so much to me on that day, and unspeakably more now. October 9 of year two was kept private. The grieving was still so deep. I thought it may be time to end the blog, but Andrew was more passionate than ever about God’s Got This and how important that message is for people who are struggling, especially those who are questioning God in their pain. The wristbands were still being requested around the world, the stories of the difference they were making were still coming in.

As October 9 approached this year, the complexities of life in this broken world were continuing to intersect with our family in new and confusing ways. Andrew was struggling. With tragic and unjust contributing factors which can be more fully shared at another time, Andrew was struggling. Panic attacks, anxiety, depression, confusion of the mind, medications, doctors with tons of letters after their names but also with deep personal compassion. These were realities the Stoecklein family had never before lived, but we weren’t giving up and there was so much hope. The doctors were assuring us that Andrew was getting better. We saw a beautiful light at the end of the tunnel with incredible hope and excitement for his future, our future, the church’s future.

And then it happened. Just a few weeks before our three-year mark of David’s death, Andrew suddenly, tragically, inexplicably died by suicide. My extremely gifted, loving, brilliant, beautiful son died. That really happened. This amazing young man who had already accomplished incredible things for God in his short 30 years and who held such promise for the future was gone. What? This can’t be happening! How could this have possibly happened? God, hasn’t our family already been through enough? This doesn’t make any sense! We scream the questions. We agonize over the reality.

So, what is this war raging inside of me as I woke this morning? It’s the battle between extreme anger and gentle release; between the haunting questions and a comforting submission; between a tortured existence and hopeful living in the hands of a compassionate God. I could be angry and bitter, poisoning my life and those I hold most dear. I could pretend and live a plastic Christian life, all smiles and positivity full of forced platitudes. “They are in a better place.” “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle.” “It was meant to be.” Yuck. None of that works for me, at all. OR… or I could be honest and real with myself and admit that I don’t like this at all. That’s true. That’s an honest fact. But even though I don’t like this at all and it doesn’t settle well into my soul (at least not yet), I am going to choose to live this in the gentleness, kindness, strength, and love of God. He is my hope in this confusion. He is my peace in this storm. He is my comfort in this brokenness. I choose Him with each waking day when I am slammed with my broken heart, my tortured mind, and that pit in my stomach that doesn’t go away. I choose to lean closer to God, cuddle up in His lap, let Him love me and comfort me and live this with me. I can’t do this alone. I can’t do this without Him.

I have dreaded today, but I embrace today with all of its disappointments, heartache and questions. I will live today in Christ. I will live today in the hope of heaven. In the reality of eternal heaven where life is fully amazing love and laughter and beauty and joy surrounded by the presence of our amazing God and the dearly beloveds who are already living in that wonderful place created by God for our FOR – EV – VER.

Today I am sad, but I will live in the hope of heaven with a continued purpose for the here and now.

I miss you, David, to the core of my being.

I miss you, Andrew, with agony and grief that is deep and raw.

I trust you, God. Completely. I will honor and serve you with the rest of my days.

Living in God’s rest and peace today because God’s Got This,

Carol Stoecklein

How to endure grief well

Over the last few weeks I’ve picked up a new hobby: paddle boarding. It may not technically qualify for a “hobby” yet since I’ve only gone twice, but I am hooked. In a season where I do not even know who I am anymore, where I feel numb and empty, something about being out on the water makes me feel alive. The wind in my face, the cold water splashing all around me, and my muscles being strained by the paddle is life giving. It reminds me to feel again: to feel connected here on earth, to feel the presence of God, and to feel the pull of heaven.

I actually found myself wondering about heaven as I paddled as fast as I could against the breeze. I thought: Can Andrew experience what I am experiencing? Is there an ocean in heaven? Is there paddle boarding in heaven? What is he doing right now? What does it feel like?

Although I have no idea what Andrew is up to in heaven, I do have the gift of what he left behind. Andrew left us with a powerful, incredible, beautiful gift: his messages. Anytime I am overwhelmed with missing him I can see him, hear him, and learn from him. Not only are these messages healing for me right here and now, but they will be an irreplaceable source of comfort for my boys as they grow and mature. When their memories start to fade and they have questions about their daddy, I can open up a message, press play, and Andrew comes alive. His humor, his mannerisms, his gifts, and his calling all on display through the click of a button. What an incredible blessing.

As I was reminiscing on his messages I remembered how Andrew had recently spoken on grief. It was during our church wide fall focus study titled, “Endurance.” Through the Endurance series Andrew taught our church how to endure the trials life throws our way. During his third installment of the message series Andrew addressed how to endure grief. As tears streamed down my face I was absolutely blown away. I had heard this message before; I sat in the front row and watched my husband give this message live. Now just one year later this message has a whole new meaning, it has come full circle. My beloved husband is now teaching me how to grieve his death.

Every single word that came out of his mouth hit me hard. Maybe you too can relate to grief in one of these ways:

(from Andrew’s message)

“Some of you are here and you are on the front end of grief. Something just happened and you are in shock. And you’re trying to figure if this is real life?”

“Some of you are here and you are in the middle of grief. You are a few months in or you are a few years in and maybe you still feel numb”

“Some of you are on the back side of grief, and what you’ve discovered on the back side of grief is most likely that just because you move forward doesn’t mean you move on and the grief will always be there.”

“Some of you are here today and you are grieving the loss of a loved one. Maybe it was a spouse and they were your everything and they completed you and now you’re all alone in this new season and you’re grieving that loss.”

“Maybe you’ve lost a child, maybe you've lost a grandparent, maybe you’re grieving the loss of a friend.”

“Maybe you are grieving the loss a relationship that’s broken. Maybe you’re grieving the loss of a marriage. Maybe you are grieving a dream, because you planned it out but it didn’t pan out.”

What cut me to my core as I watched Drew’s message was how he specifically addressed grieving a spouse. I couldn’t believe he was speaking directly to me, right here, right now as I am grieving him.

Andrew went on to give three points in his message. As I sit in my pain these three points resonate deeply.

1. Grief is unavoidable

The consequence of love is grief. If you love someone or something you will grieve. If you ascribe value to someone or something you will grieve. If you’ve given your heart to someone or something you will grieve. Jesus says in John 16:20:

“Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve.”

There are plenty of ways we grieve. This world is broken and the brokenness will touch all of our lives at some point. No matter how hard you try to run from it, none of us are exempt from the wrath of grief.

2. Grief is painful

Grief hurts. It feels like someone kicked you in the stomach and knocked the wind out of you. It feels like torture. It feels lonely. Grief is so unbearable that Jesus relates it to a woman giving birth. In John 16:21 Jesus goes on to say:

“A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.”

I made the decision to give birth the natural way all three times. By the third time I was begging for the epidural because I knew the pain was too much to handle. But, my sweet boy Brave came so fast I never had the chance. The most beautiful reward after the excruciating pain of labor is the new life you hold in your arms. Nothing compares to the love that overtakes you as you meet your newborn baby for the first time. Just as the pain of childbirth disappears with joy of new life, God is reminding us that our grief will not last forever.

3. Grief is temporal

Grief will become less frequent and less intense if we grieve well. There can be a turning point in our grief, Jesus explains in John 16: 20:

“You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.”

and again in John 16:22:

“Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.”

I have no idea what kind of grief you may be facing, but I know the pain. When the pain is overwhelming, we can choose to lose heart or we can choose to remember where our joy is truly anchored. My joy is not anchored in Andrew, my joy is not anchored in my three boys, and my joy is not anchored in my future. The only safe sacred place where my joy can be securely anchored is in Christ’s eternal, unconditional love.

God’s love never wavers, never runs out, and never gives up. No matter what kind of grief you are facing, God’s love will: cover you, hold you, and carry you through it. Grief is temporal but joy is eternal.

One day not too long from now I will know whether or not paddle boarding exists in heaven. One day I will no longer have to carry this pain. I cannot wait for the day when my joy is complete as I am reunited with my Andrew in forever. Until then I will anchor my joy in Christ’s love, I will run fast to fulfill my purpose, and I will set my mind on things above. God’s Got This.

“I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world!” John 16:33

In Him,

Kayla

P.S. Here is the link to Andrew's message on grief:

http://inlandhillschurch.com/endurance/grief/

Uncharted Territory

Grieving a suicide is a different kind of beast. It’s big, ugly, and ferocious. It gnaws and eats away at your heart and your mind all day long. It’s a vicious unrelenting cycle of torment, torture, and pain. When I wake up my mind tries to save him. When I go to bed, the emptiness I feel in my heart and in my room is heavy.

As I dive deeper into this new uncharted territory of mental illness I now know that I actually knew nothing at all. I was too close to see clearly. I was consumed by my own: pain, co-burdening, and responsibilities to see my husband’s anguish. And, I wasn’t the only one who missed it.

I feel compelled to help those who are walking alongside loved ones facing mental illness. Although this is all new to me and I am not the expert, the pain pushes me to say something. The catastrophic thought of another young, healthy, and ambitious person taking their own life is enough.

By learning to recognize the warning signs, knowing how to start a conversation and turning to the right sources for help, you have the power to save a life.

If I could turn back time this is what I would do differently:

1. Take it seriously

My experience: I will never forget the first and only time Andrew vaguely opened up about his suicidal thoughts. It was so vague and surprising that I missed it. He sort of shrugged it off as a thought that quickly passed through his mind and was gone, no big deal. He reassured me he would never do that to himself or to our family. It was just a thought, he hadn’t dwelled on it, he had never thought about it before, and he would never think about it again. That was the end of the conversation. We never talked about it again, and I never asked about it again. A huge regret.

If I could do it again: I would have called the suicide hotline (1-800-273-8255), right then and there together to ask for help and solutions. I would have followed up every single day and every single night asking, “Are you having thoughts of suicide?” I would told his psychiatrist, his therapist, and his family about our conversation. I would not have treated it as “no big deal”, or just a passing thought. I would have taken action.

2. Treat it as a team

My experience: It was a long hard summer, I barely had time to breathe, rest, or think and I was exhausted. I can only recall attending three psychiatrist appointments with Andrew. We both agreed that is was not important for me to be there every time. We were told he was on the low end of the spectrum. The doctor set out a treatment plan and both Andrew and his doctor felt confident it would work.

If I could do it again: I would have attended every single appointment, I would have made it a priority to be there, no matter how inconvenient. I would have explained to the doctor in detail about our home life and my first hand experience with Andrew’s mental illness. I sincerely believe Andrew and I would have benefited tremendously by treating this illness as a team.

3. Read the books

My experience: Mental illness invaded my home in numerous ways but I refused to allow it to invade my quiet time. Instead of reading books about depression and anxiety I filled my quiet time with books about: motherhood, ministry, and marriage. I used that time to fill myself up because I was so utterly drained.

If I could do it again: I would have read every single book I could get my hands on about depression and anxiety. I would have developed a new heart, passion, and understanding of mental illness. I would have suggested that we read some of the books together to open up even more conversation. I wish I would have made the priceless investment of knowledge.

Although my list of regrets is never ending, at the end of the day I gently and confidently, reassure myself, “this is not my fault.” The mental illness caused the suicide. If you are grieving a loved one who died by suicide, you are not alone. There are resources at your finger tips ready to help you along your grief journey. There are friends, family members, support groups, therapists, and books ready to heal your hurting heart. The book “Grieving a Suicide,” has been immensely helpful in my personal grieving process. One particular quote from the book hit hard this week and perfectly summarizes my pain:

“Human Love takes us into dark places where we are taught the hardest things. Those we love suffer, and as we love them, we suffer with them. Ultimately we lose them. The hard work of love is to see each other through, in sickness and in health and often into death. We can’t mourn what we haven’t loved. Those who mourn are those who love.”

The cost of love is great. Jesus knew that all too well, it cost him everything. Although we pay now in tears and pain, we know our grief will not last forever. This is just the first inch of life. We were created for a person and a place. The person is Jesus and the place is heaven. In this life there will be trials but we serve a God who will never let us down. No matter how great the pain, no matter how deep the loss, and no matter how high the mountain. God will hold us, God will heal us, God will guide us, and God’s Got This.

Powerful worship music is a major source of healing. This song and these lyrics have the power to change your perspective if you let them.

Against all hope, I will believe

Through raging wars, You fight for peace

You have always made a way

A path of beauty, You create

And I know Your love is strong enough to meet me where I am

Hallelujah, You will never let me down

Your hope runs through my veins

Your love it paves a way

Hallelujah, Hallelujah

What lies ahead I cannot see

I know Your voice will carry me

Nothing can pull me from Your hands

No power against Your hope will stand

And I know Your love is strong enough to meet me where I am

Hallelujah, You will never let me down

Your hope runs through my veins

Your love it paves a way

Hallelujah, Hallelujah”

Mosaic MSC - Never Let Me Down

God’s Still Got This, He will never let me down,

Kayla

3 Myths about suicide you may have picked up along the way

Today is world suicide prevention day. I strongly believe that suicide prevention is possible and to be honest it’s one of the reasons why I write. I am by no means an expert on mental illness or suicide. I am speaking purely from a raw place of brokenness and pain. The reason I am addressing these myths today is I believe as a follower of Christ, the Church and Christians can do a better job at understanding suicide. All too often it’s “Christians” who say the wrong things and hurt people the most. Let’s break the stigma so that we can truly love and meet people where they are.

Myth #1: It’s the ultimate sin therefore when you die by suicide you do not go to heaven.

This is a common misbelief about suicide and it breaks my heart. I’ll be the first to admit prior to Andrew’s death I may have actually believed it to be true. I remember leaning over to my mother in law, Carol, in the hospital room as my husband lay there dying, whispering through my tears, “Will he go to heaven?” She quickly reassured me, as I am confident now: whether you are accepted into heaven or not has nothing to do with how you die. The only way we are accepted into heaven is through a personal relationship with Jesus. I believe with 100% of my soul that Andrew is in heaven. Andrew had a real, raw, authentic, and infectious relationship with Jesus. Thousands of people will be in heaven because of him. Andrew got sick, he was given a diagnosis, much like any other deadly diagnosis. His illness grew worse over time. This illness caused him to loose his ability to make wise decisions, to think clearly, and to properly articulate his feelings. If Andrew were sitting here today, healthy and strong, I am confident he would want a redo. He did not want to die. I can rest assured that he is no longer in pain, he is completely healed in heaven; a place more beautiful and wonderful than any human mind could ever comprehend.

Myth #2: The person who committed suicide must be a horrible human being.

“How could he do this to his family?” “Didn’t he know the amount of pain this would cause everyone?” “How could a pastor, a Godly man, do something so horrific?” The appropriate answer to all of these questions is: it wasn’t him. The Andrew we all knew and loved; the Andrew we saw on stage every Sunday; the Andrew who would hop on a skateboard and ride up and down the driveway with his boys: he would never do this! Not in his wildest dreams or nightmares! He was sick. His mind was overtaken by mental illness, spiritual warfare, and a series of unfortunate circumstances that caused him to lose control of his own thoughts and actions. I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around what that must have felt like. Imagine the torment and torture he must have been experiencing. Although there are moments where I feel angry at him, I can’t allow myself to stay there. The man that I loved and built a family with, the man that I looked up to in countless ways, the leader of our church and our family: he was an honorable man, and his death is tragic.

Myth #3 When you have faith in God you do not have suicidal thoughts

When sin entered the world we became broken people. No one is exempt from sin. No one is exempt from brokenness. Brokenness slapped me in the face a few weeks ago when suicide took the love of my life. If anyone had a strong relationship with God, it was him. He studied theology and dove deep into scripture week in and week out. He ran to God in his depression. He filled his alone time with worship music. He loved God and I believe that his faith really did help carry him through his darkest moments. However in most cases faith simply isn’t enough to heal depression. Depression is a disorder of the brain that is both biological and physiological. We need to help break this stigma of mental illness. Although prayer and spirituality may help, and God can do miracles, ultimately mental illness deserves to be treated just like every other illness.

I will never forget Andrew’s psychiatrist telling us, “we know a drop in the ocean of the brain.” Who are we to judge one single drop in a vast open sea? I believe God has not called us to judge mental illness or suicide, rather he has called us to love Him and love them, and he meant all of them! I hope the truth behind these three myths can help us to better: embrace, love, and comfort those who are facing the brokenness of depression and suicide and the survivors who were left behind.

If you are reading this today and you are struggling with suicidal thoughts or actions I am begging you to please tell someone! If you don’t have anyone to call, please call the national suicide prevention lifeline 1-800-273-8255. You were not designed to battle depression and mental illness alone. You need people and people need you! Your life is worth fighting for, your journey is not over, and the deep overwhelming pain you are feeling won’t last forever. Your life has a divine purpose and there are more people cheering you on than you could ever know. The world needs you, your family needs you, and your future needs you!

If you haven’t listened to this song yet, please read these lyrics, and then believe them with every fiber of your being. The song is titled, “Rescue,” by Lauren Daigle and it has been carrying me through my darkest hour and I believe it can help you too. God sees you, God hears you, God knows your darkest thoughts, and God’s Got This too!

You are not hidden

There's never been a moment

You were forgotten

You are not hopeless

Though you have been broken

Your innocence stolen

I hear you whisper underneath your breath

I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army to find You

In the middle of the darkest night

It's true, I will rescue you

There is no distance

That cannot be covered

Over and over

You're not defenseless

I'll be your shelter

I'll be your armor

I hear you whisper underneath Your breath

I hear your SOS, your SOS

I will send out an army to find You

In the middle of the darkest night

It's true, I will rescue you

I will never stop marching to reach you

In the middle of the hardest fight

It's true, I will rescue you

I hear the whisper underneath Your breath

I hear you whisper, you have nothing left

I will send out an army to find You

In the middle of the darkest night

It's true, I will rescue you

I will never stop marching to reach you

In the middle of the hardest fight

It's true, I will rescue you

Oh, I will rescue you

thanks for joining me on this journey,

Kayla

Wrapped up in a cocoon

To my Andrew,

Tonight will be my fifth night at home without you. I see you all over this house, there are a million little things that I see and remember that completely break my heart. I see you in the garage working out. I see you in the bed taking a nap. I see you in the kitchen drinking a protein shake. I see you at night sneaking Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer. I see you in your office, quietly, confidently typing away, crafting another powerful message for Sunday.

The boys see you too. They see you outside doing yard work. They see you with your hammer and drill hanging things on the walls. They see you sitting on the couch watching a movie with them. They see you in the bed in the morning when they walk in to wake us up. They see you in the driveway picking weeds. They see you in our closet getting ready for work.

I don’t know how to not see you here. You are a part of me. You are a part of our children. A special, important part. Life without you feels hopeless and heavy. I have countless unanswered questions, numerous broken dreams, and a myriad of shattered plans. The change feels painfully unnatural. I don’t want the change, I just want you here with me. I want things to go back to the way they were before.

On the day I broke the news to the boys Smith and I spent some time drawing together in a coloring book titled, “When Someone I Love Dies.” It is a strange forced feeling to be discussing death with a 5, 4, and 2 year old. I can see Smith’s brain working tirelessly just like mine, attempting to wrap his young mind around this new reality.

Something unexpected that has been helping us this week is butterflies. You would probably laugh and make fun of us, but we can’t seem to escape them. The first few pages of our new coloring book examined change. The book instructed us to draw an egg, a caterpillar, a cocoon, and then a butterfly. It was a simple way for a 5 year old to understand that life is ever evolving, ever changing.

Just a few hours after we finished coloring I went to close the curtains in the family room. To my surprise there was a tiny green caterpillar attached to top part of the curtain. What is a caterpillar doing in our house? How did it crawl up so high on the curtain? The door has been closed all day, how did it end up there? Usually, I would have squealed and ran away, but I was so stunned that I picked it up and showed the boys. Without skipping a beat Smith told me, “it’s a miracle from God.”

Smith, in his child like faith, believed God sent us the precious little caterpillar to remind us that He is near. He is in the details. He is connected and He cares. I agreed with Smith, and we both cried over that little caterpillar. We quickly found a jar and some leaves and now we are taking great care of our new pet whom Smith named, “little buddy.” We now get to sit back and watch little buddy evolve and change before our eyes.

Now, again, today in the midst of my quiet time this morning the image of a butterfly jumped out at me from a book. In the book, the author says, “I started to think a lot about butterflies and how if you cut them out of their cocoons or help them out in any way, they will never develop the strength they need in their wings to be able to achieve takeoff. They have to struggle out in order to come into their own . Flight only comes after the fight.” (Levi Lusko, Through the Eyes of Lion).

Right now I feel like a caterpillar trapped in a dark cocoon. It feels like a full on battle, a full fledged war. I didn’t choose this. I don’t want this. I just want to be a caterpillar again. I don’t want to be wrapped up in grief and pain, I don’t want to walk through this, I don’t want to be smothered by anxious thoughts about my future and the future of our children. I want this all to go away so I can be free again.

Today I am reminded that although I hate it, God has me right where I need to be. I can feel Him wrapping his loving arms around me. I am fighting it, kicking and screaming, but I can feel the Holy Spirit infusing me with His strength. I can feel God protecting me and holding me close. I can feel the safety and security in my own little cocoon. It may take years until I am ready to fly, but I know that the fight won’t last forever. One day, God will release me from the darkness and despair. He will show me a life of hope and a future full of purpose. I will no longer be a carefree caterpillar, I will emerge a new creation, a beautiful butterfly and I will soar to even greater heights. I can’t see any of it now in my dark clouded cocoon, but I know that I am safe. He’s got me right where I need to be, and He has great plans for my life and the life of our boys.

“For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’” Jeremiah 29:11

I miss you Andrew, I miss you so much, I love you,

Your Girl

Mess To Miracle

To My Andrew,

Today marks one week since that tragic morning. The darkest week of my life. The emotions that I have faced this week have crushed me: mind, body, and soul. The gaping hole I feel inside now that you are gone is suffocating. Oh, how I long to be with you, right now. I would give anything just to cuddle up into your chest and hold you again.

The last few days have been incredibly difficult. There are countless decisions that need to be made to honor you and put your body to rest. What will you wear? What type of casket will you lay in? How will we pay for it? What location will be best? Do we buy 1 plot or 2? Who will speak at the service? These are questions we shouldn’t be facing. These are questions I was supposed to answer 50 years from now when I am old and grey. How do I do this without you? Why are you gone so soon? How do I tell the boys?

Today we walked the cemetery. It was surreal. Overwhelming and peaceful at the same time. We felt a small kiss from God when He graciously provided a place for you right next to your dad. Now every time we visit we can remember you both and imagine the joy you must feel now you are together.

Tomorrow I will tell the boys. The life they once knew will never be the same. The dreams they had with you are gone, just like mine. The daily routines, the daddy dates, the donut runs and the soccer games now distinctly different than before. The house will be quieter, lonelier, and duller without you. You filled our house with joy. You filled our home with fun and laughter that only comes from a dad. You knew how to crack just the right joke to cheer me up when life felt overwhelming. I miss you so much, Andrew, every single part.

I hate the loss and the pain, but there is nothing I can do to change it. There is nothing I can do to bring you back, so I will choose to lean into God. The stories flooding in are lifting me up and holding me up. The life change that is happening only comes from God, because He promises to work all things together for good, even this.

Your story, your life and your death is opening the floor for conversations all around the world. Your story is helping people to share their hidden thoughts and secret struggles with their family and friends. Your story is paving the way for an even bigger conversation about how the church can better come alongside people with mental illness, including pastors. God is using your story and this tragedy to do miracles in the lives of other people. As much as I don’t want to, I can’t help but see God’s hand in all of this.

My mind keeps wandering back to the last message you gave titled, “Mess to Masterpiece.” Just as you told the church about how God will meet them in their mess, I believe God is meeting us, right here, right now, in this mess. And my prayer today in my darkest hour is, “Heavenly Father, complete the work you’ve begun in me.” Only God can turn the greatest tragedy in my life into triumph.

I love you and I miss you with every piece of me,

Your Girl

#godsgotthis

To My Andrew,

It’s only been 3 days. Nothing can take away the suffocating pain I feel now you are gone. I miss every part of you, I see you everywhere. I replay the events of that fateful day over and over again in my mind wishing I could have done things differently. Wishing I could have held your hand one more time and prayed over you and told you how much I love you, how much I believe in you, and how God’s got this too.

You were right all along, I truly didn’t understand the depths of your depression and anxiety. I didn’t understand how real and how relentless the spiritual attacks were. The pain, the fear, and the turmoil you must have been dealing with every single day is unimaginable. The enemy knew what an amazing man you were. The enemy knew God had huge plans for your life. The enemy saw how God was using your gifts, abilities, and unique teaching style to reach thousands of lives for Him. The enemy hated it and he pursued you incessantly. Taunting you and torturing you in ways that you were unable to express to anyone.

Andrew I want to tell you from the depths of my heart and my pain I am so sorry.

I am so sorry you were so scared,

I am so sorry you felt so alone,

I am so sorry you felt misunderstood,

I am so sorry you felt betrayed and deeply hurt by the words and actions of others,

I am so sorry you were fighting a dark spiritual war virtually alone,

I am so sorry you were unable to fully get the help and support you needed.

I wish I had one more chance to hold you and cry with you and encourage you. I wish you could see the outpouring of love from people all over the world who have been impacted by your story. I wish you could hold your boys one more time and tell them goodbye. I wish we could go on one more trip together, just the two of us. I am not ready to say goodbye. I am so madly and deeply in love with you. Every part of me longs to be with you. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t function and I feel so lost without you. You were my life. I was so proud to be your wife Andrew. I was so proud to sit in the front row and watch you in your sweet spot on stage. I was always so amazed by you, every single day. You could do anything you set your mind to! You were handy, you made every home we lived in look beautiful inside and out. You were creative, you were funny, you were thoughtful, you were passionate, you had vision, you had charisma, and you were so special. You are irreplaceable Andrew. There will never be another man like you.

I want to tell you that I am never going to stop fighting for you. I will continue to tell our community and our world what an amazing man you were. Your name will be honored and you will be remembered as a hero. You fought the good fight, and I can only imagine the incredible place God had prepared for you when you walked through the gates of heaven. I can only imagine what it must have felt like to see your dad again, healthy and strong. I can only imagine how much joy you must feel now that you are truly free. I wish I could be there with you, celebrating on the streets of gold. But for now, I will continue to live for you. I will raise our boys to be men of God, just like you were. Your name will live on in a powerful way. Your story has the power to save lives, change lives, and transform the way the Church supports pastors.

I love you so much and I will miss you every single day for the rest of my life. When I think of you I will smile, knowing that I will see you again one day. Thank you for 10 wonderful years together. Thank you for giving me the gift of three beautiful blue eyed boys who all resemble you. Thank you for choosing me, for believing in me, and for showing me how to live fearlessly.

Until we meet again I will cling to my Father in heaven. He will carry me through every second, every minute, every hour of every day. I read a verse this morning and I know God is reminding me that even now, in the midst of my deepest pain that He has got this.

“Because you are close to me and always available my confidence will never be shaken, for I experience your wrap-around presence every moment.” Psalm 16:8 (TPT)

With all my heart and all my love,

Your Girl

Christmas Brings Comfort

Wishes of good cheer and a very merry Christmas, twinkling lights and happy songs playing on the radio, gifts to be given and received… the celebration and excitement of the season can all be enjoyable and even heart-warming. It’s all good. But for those who carry a heavy burden of some kind, the season can feel empty and hollow. We smile, we laugh, we celebrate through the numbness.

A few weeks ago someone said to me, “So Christmas will be easier for you this year since it’s not the first one since Dave died, right?” It was meant in kindness and encouragement, but the words hit me hard. I looked at this person, not knowing what to say, but inside I was screaming. “No, it will not be easier! Every day is harder than the day before! Every day I miss him more than the day before!” The truth is, no, this Christmas will not be easier than last year. I wish it were so, but it’s not. In my experience, loss does not dissipate with the passage of time. From the seat where I sit right now, time does not heal.

Christmas can be a confusing and unsettling time for those who are dealing with the difficult side of life. The loss of a loved one, a recent divorce, a disappointing and scary diagnosis, and the list could go on. The brokenness of this world touches us in many ways, even during the holidays. But I see Christmas differently this year! Much deeper than lights and carols and parties and gifts. I have a new perspective of hope and comfort and nearness to Jesus.

I recently had the privilege of visiting Bethlehem, the place where Jesus was born, this amazing point in history that we celebrate at Christmas. I was able to touch the very spot where Jesus came into this world on that holy night so many years ago. God was willing to become human, to enter the suffering and chaos of this world, so that we could share a real and personal relationship with Him. It was a powerful moment of gratefulness that I felt in that moment.

We appropriately celebrate the significance and possibility of salvation and eternity in heaven that Jesus brought with him on that first Christmas night, but this year it’s so much more than that to me. This year, because of my need for deep and embracing comfort, I realize with a whole new sense of revelation to my soul, that the personal relationship Jesus made possible through Christmas is not just about our salvation. It’s not only about eternity in heaven when we die. It’s about our daily living in intimate relationship with Him, which includes comfort. In fact, God’s heart breaks for us when we face the difficult.

In Christmas, God is reaching out to us with true intimacy, a nearness that can’t quite be put into words. Christmas proves God’s strong desire to be with us. With us in our sorrow and suffering. With us in our confusion and hurt. Because of Christmas, there is comfort. Real comfort. Lasting comfort. Comfort deep enough and wide enough to cover all our brokenness. That’s what I felt in Bethlehem, and with that came an incredible gratefulness for God’s unrelenting desire to be with us. He knows me. He knows my pain. He knows my heart. And He is with me. It’s where He wants to be.

God reaches into our pain and sadness with His comfort and peace. It’s real. That’s where I choose to rest this Christmas. That’s where I choose to run this Christmas. In the middle of all the normal celebrating, where at times I may feel lost and alone and numb, I choose to turn towards His face and hide myself in His embrace. I like it there. It’s where I want to live.

How does the message of Christmas rise above the giddiness and frivolity of a season that you may be numb to this year? With the Christ of Comfort reaching out to you, with warmth in His eyes, with a comforting embrace that comes with His promise to never let go, and with a tear ready to spill down His face because His heart feels your pain and sadness. That’s the Christ who draws near to you today. I hope you will turn and draw near to Him.

It’s another good Christmas.

Carol Stoecklein

“Comfort! Yes, comfort my people,” says your God. Isaiah 40:1

Surrender

What if God doesn’t answer your prayer the way you wanted Him to? Where do you go with the struggle between His will and yours? The struggle creates a battle in your heart that is profoundly crushing to your soul. Something you’ve never quite felt before. Not like this. It’s exhausting. It breaks you. Where do you take that broken heart, that crushed soul? Does it mean He isn’t real? He isn’t love? He isn’t good?

The days are often busy with responsibilities, people, tasks. Then come the nights. All those moments that would have been filled with “your person” are now empty. The laughter he would have brought. The words of encouragement he would have given. The presence, the person who had become part of you, knit together over the years of joys and sorrows lived side by side. And then you think to yourself, God could have done something about this. This is not how I would have answered my prayer. I wanted something different.

I have come to realize that I must be honest with myself and admit my true feelings about how God chose to answer our diligent prayers. The “good girl” in me is tempted to simply say, “It’s okay, God. I know you can’t answer everyone’s prayers the way they want. I’ll be okay with this. I understand.” But that wouldn’t be completely honest. It wouldn’t be authentic. It would eventually destroy my relationship with God. He wants the real me, not the “good girl” me. He wants my honesty, my authentic feelings and doubts and hurts and disappointments. But more than that — it's for my sanity, my wholeness. If my heart isn’t completely raw and bare with my God, the One who created me, the One who lives each moment with me, the One who answers my prayers, it will destroy me. A little bit at a time, more distant from Him. Little by little dying a slow death of bitterness.

Sitting here with a broken heart filled with continual questions, I have a choice. I can turn toward bitterness. Or I can turn toward surrender. Daily surrender. My choice. My daily choice. Every morning brings the temptation to turn toward bitterness. Every day a sliver of comfort felt when I turn toward surrender, the faint hope of wholeness in my future.

I choose surrender. Because in surrender there is freedom. In surrender there is wholeness. In surrender there is hope and goodness and mercy. And eternity.

So much freedom found in allowing yourself to fully feel and embrace your true and honest feelings of grief, sorrow, hurt, anger, doubt, disappointment, Scary, yes. Terrifying. I am just now learning what those things feel like because I never knew how to let them in. They seemed ugly so I told myself I wasn’t supposed to feel them. Keep them out of your heart. Good girls don’t feel those ugly things.

Where do you go with the struggle between His will and yours? I have found that the only safe place to go is to the feet of Jesus. Kneeling before Him. Curled up on the ground in brokenness. That’s where He meets me. That’s where He heals my heart. He can’t even begin the healing if I’m clinching onto my sad heart so tight that He can’t even touch it. I take my hurting heart to the foot of the cross over and over again. Every morning in daily surrender. He meets me there with the comfort embrace that can only come from Him.

That’s where He is teaching me. At the foot of the cross. It’s going to take a while. But I trust Him. I do.

Trusting completely and learning daily,

Carol Stoecklein

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

It’s been one year since the day you peacefully departed earth and entered a place that can only be described as paradise. I find myself daydreaming about the glory and wonder you must be experiencing. To be in the presence of God must be overwhelming. The sounds and melodies of heavenly worship must be captivating. The rewards for your humble and obedient life must be so fulfilling. Oh, how I long to experience these things with you one day.

Life without you is harder than I imagined it would be. I miss you every day, more and more. I sit in your office and meet with people. I thumb through your library as I prepare the messages each week. I stand on your stage to communicate the grace and truth of Jesus. Your example of how to be a husband, father, pastor, leader, and follower of Jesus is literally all around me. And for that I am so grateful.

A lot has happened in the last year. Inland Hills continues to thrive. We have so many new faces coming each week. Our last class for new members was the largest in IHC history. I know that would make you proud. Hundreds have accepted Christ and been baptized this year. We are having conversations right now of expanding our campus and how to reach more people. What you started 25 years ago is still making an impact around the world.

Kayla and I welcomed a brand new baby boy into the family this year. His name is Brave. I can’t wait to tell him one day about his Papa. The other boys are growing so fast. Smith talks about you all the time. He is fascinated with Heaven and constantly asks me when we can go see you. Oh, we moved into a new home this year—more space for the boys to be boys. I miss the little things that you’d be helping me with around the house, but I know you’d be proud of us.

Austin and Paige are thriving in their careers. Paige keeps getting more beautiful every time she comes home to visit. I feel very protective of her. Her poor future husband will have to really impress her brothers. Austin is traveling the world with his video camera. He just bought his first home and will move in this January. Don’t worry. I’ll show him the ropes and make sure he doesn't burn the place down!

Mom misses you a lot—more than I think you anticipated she would. I can see the hurt and grief in her eyes. I also see her love and appreciation for you as she laughs, cries, and shares stories. She is taking it one day at a time right now. I’m proud of her for not giving up and hiding from life. God has an amazing next chapter for her life, but she too longs to be with you again.

Thousands of people miss you and feel eternally grateful for your life, leadership, and example. Their stories and memories make me so proud to be your son and continue your legacy. Life here is good, but not the same without you. I know you probably won’t read this; you have something far better capturing your attention. This was for me. I miss you and love you.

See you soon!

Andrew

P.S. The Lakers are still terrible, but the Clippers still can’t figure out how to win a championship. You wouldn’t believe who is running for President. However, Los Angeles finally got an NFL team. Go Rams!

Home With Jesus

Dear Friends,

Late Friday night, we had the privilege of witnessing Pastor Dave’s departure from earth to a place outside of time and space where his joy is complete: Heaven.

Dave was very peaceful and free of pain over the past several days. Our family was able to gather around him for some very special moments, filled with worship and prayer. Please know we are brokenhearted for ourselves, but so happy for Dave who is safely home… finally well.

“I know the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me. No wonder my heart is glad, and I rejoice. My body rests in safety. For you will not leave my soul among the dead or allow your holy one to rot in the grave. You will show me the way of life, granting me the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever.” Psalm 16:8-11

Dave’s impact will be felt for generations to come. He made a commitment many years ago to humbly and faithfully serve God with his life. He did just that. We are so grateful to have been given a front row seat to such a significant life and we are committed to continuing his legacy. We are proud of the way he lived, served, and loved. He finished well. Now comes the reward.

Next Sunday, October 18, we will honor Dave’s life with a very special memorial service. We will update you with more information and details early next week.

Thank you very much for all of your prayers and support.

Love, The Stoecklein Family

An Update on Dave

Hey Friends,

The words do not come easily, but we need to inform you of news about Pastor Dave. Yesterday afternoon we found out that the leukemia is back once again. Dave has waged a valiant and honorable fight in these past four years, one that is a huge inspiration to us all. He is an amazing example of how to face adversity with perseverance partnered with God's miraculous strength and power. Each day has been a precious gift from God that we will treasure. The time has come to rest in God's timing rather than intervene medically, and though our family is greatly grieved, we are at peace with that reality. We will live through this in the grace and mercy of our great God.

Your strong and faithful prayers have carried us through many difficult days and we now ask that you pray for comfort, peace, and rest in the presence of our faithful God. We encourage you to draw near to God. Pray that He would show you more clearly His great love for you, His amazing grace that He offers to all of us, and the peace found in His presence.

It is important to our family that we spend as much intimate time together over the next several weeks as possible. Of course, we love hearing from you and receiving your thoughtful gifts and words of encouragement. However, we ask that you send those through the Inland Hills Church office. Thank you for respecting our family’s privacy during this time.

This weekend in church, I will give a more detailed update and talk about where we go from here. I hope you will join me at one of the services this Sunday at 9am, 11am, or 5pm.

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23

God’s still got this!

Andrew Stoeckein

I Can't. You Can.

Since last posting, Dave has been in and out of the hospital with extreme headaches and fevers. His body is increasingly weaker and there are episodes of passing out. There is still no leukemia in his body or brain, and we are very grateful for that. But unfortunately he is much weaker. Most of his days are spent in bed, not strong enough for us to get him into the wheelchair. To be perfectly honest, it’s a torment to watch the suffering and struggle of someone you love. God is helping us with that. Yet through it all, Dave continues to trust God, reaching out to others, always studying for the next message. Even from a bed, he loves his kids, his grandkids, and his church. Even with failing physical strength, his heart to serve God is steadfast and his prayers for you are strong.

Today is a big Cedars day, filled with ultrasounds and MRIs. Please pray that God would give Dave the strength he needs. Please pray. Thank you for every one of your prayers.

Each new day holds a grand opportunity. Will we choose to live it on our own, in our own strength? Or will we live our day in the grace, mercy, strength, patience, and power that God graciously offers us? Through this leukemia journey of the last four years, it seems I am still at the very beginnings of learning the mystery of living each day in Christ. The great surrender is saying, “I give. I can’t do this. This is too big. This is too hard. This hurts too much.” That’s exactly where I find myself these days. Maybe some of you are in that place, too.

In a Sunday message a few weeks ago, Andrew shared about this surrender. I needed to hear every word of that message. I’m learning that it’s okay to fall apart. It’s okay to not be strong enough. I thought I was carrying the load with God, but I’m realizing that I’m just now starting to learn what that even is. What it looks like. What it feels like. I so easily revert back into “being the good, strong girl,” but that’s when I’m separating myself from God and trying to do it on my own.

I Can’t. God Can. He Can Through Me. “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” Philippians 4:13

It’s a mystery. It’s a mystery I thought I understood, but it turns out that I didn’t understand it at all. It’s a day-by-day surrender. A day-by-day learning. God continues to reach out to us. His heart is open. He wants us to be honest with our pain and not hide or pretend. He wants us to fall apart in His lap. To simply burst into tears at His feet. I’m learning to live there. And it actually brings peace, comfort, and freedom.

If you don’t attend Inland Hills Church or you missed that message, click here. It’s well worth the time to watch. Learning the mystery of Christ in me. God doesn’t want us living these hard things on our own. I still have so much to learn.

Thank you, again, for all your prayers. They are much needed.

Carol Stoecklein

Sooner Than We Thought

We are very happy to tell you that Dave got out of the hospital last night – much sooner than we expected. Thank you, God!

The care we received at Pomona Valley Hospital was phenomenal. We ran into a lot of IHC'ers who work there. Thank you especially to Lena, Nate and Gerty for assisting us in very special ways. We appreciate you! We were glad that Cedars didn’t have any beds. It meant we got to stay closer to home this time. And I liked my fold-out couch at PVH much better than my cot at Cedars!

Each episode with infection is a bit of a set-back in strength for Dave, but we are not giving up. We are going to keep pushing forward even if by baby steps. There is a lot going on with Dave’s care, but we are going to live “in Him” today. Next week we will get back on track with the weekly chemo sessions. His doctors are in continual amazement that he is defying all expectations, and we know that’s because God still has His purposes. We are grateful. What a gift.

Thank you for all of your prayers. They are making a difference. This is a crazy life we are living. It still boggles my mind. But there are many people living similar things. We see them in a way we never have before. Sometimes life is overwhelming, but God is always reaching out to us.

Carol

The Latest...

Around midnight on Tuesday night we took Dave to the hospital because of a sudden and extreme headache and fever. This time he was too weak for us to safely get him in the car so we had to call an ambulance to take him to Pomona Valley Hospital. They are taking great care of him here. When there is an available bed at Cedars they will transfer him so that his doctors there can see him. Apparently Cedars is full. (Or maybe they’re just tired of seeing us there. Ha!) Dave is on a lot of pain medications for the headache and antibiotics for the fever. Again. It is helping. He is weak and very tired, but he is improving.

In this long and arduous battle with leukemia, we are extremely grateful for those who are still concerned about Dave and are still praying for him. He continues to fight with all his might to be here with his family and his church. Especially those wonderful grandbabies!

Dave is giving us all an incredible example of perseverance, patience, and courage. He is showing us how to fight the good fight with everything you’ve got and at the same time depend completely on God and reach out for His strength and power every day. Every. Single. Day.

A friend sent us this verse yesterday: “Praise the Lord; praise God our savior! For each day He carries us in His arms.” Psalms 68:19

Each day we turn to God for that day’s strength. Each and every day God carries us in His arms and that’s exactly where we want to be. We just don’t want to be in any more hospitals!!

We really do appreciate all your prayers and encouragements. They are needed.

The Stoeckleins

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