Oink Oink.

Christmas present for Alyssa.

Vacation.

I miss home.

It’s nice being back where I was raised. To meet and socialize with old friends, to see familiar places, foods and smells. It’s nice. But I miss home.

I miss the new familiarly I made in awkwardness. I miss the security of love and care. I miss my unorganized, uncertain days of safety.

It’s not like I’m unhappy here. I’m thrilled to be back in routine. I’m happy to see my puppies. I’m relaxed to walk, take and glance as I please and not worry about offending others. I am – content.

But I miss being able to confide in people I trust. I miss talking about my spiritual growth. I miss seeing and feeling the Lord move. I miss my security. I miss being concealed. I miss being watched and scolded out of love. I miss the awkwardness of knowing I’m where I’m supposed to be.

Things are ‘normal’ here, and that frightens me slightly. I don’t want things to be their normal old ways. I want them to be changing and transforming in the Lord. I want the presence of the Lord to shake this house, home, family, church, and community; I want people to realize they’re sleeping.

I miss the Bible belt, yes at moments it’s annoying, but people aren’t afraid to speak the Lord’s name in confidence and proclaim His majesty.

I miss home…

The 22nd Year

I was meaning to write this closer to my birthday, but I guess the week of my birth will have to do.

So, here I am, another year older. When I try to dwell on the thought that I lived another year – I’m speechless. I have survived to be 22 years of age; that in itself is a miracle. As I try to look back on this past year, and the years before, again I am amazed by the Grace our God has on our souls. I am truly blessed and grateful to be alive.

I’m 22 years old, ha, I can’t even try to fathom that thought. But here I am, breathing and typing, so it must be true. I – I have lived to be on this earth for 22 years, that thought blows my mind. I mean we don’t (at least I don’t) count how many months we’ve lived on earth or how many weeks we’ve kept breathing; we don’t recognize those numbers but we acknowledge and celebrate the years. Aren’t the months, weeks and days just as important?

I’ve lived 264 months.
I’ve lived 1,188 weeks.
And I’ve lived 8,008 days.
(Approximately; I’m bad with math.)

And here I am flabbergasted about 22 years, LOOK at those numbers! I’ve lived that! I survived those days of joy, anger, deceit, remorse, guilt, and depression. And I stand (Err, currently sitting) breathing, sane, content and growing. I’m alive and full of life. I’m confidant (most of the time) and motivated.

This is a very big accomplishment to me.

I know some of you are thinking: “Why are you obsessing over being 22?” Because I shouldn’t be turning 22; I shouldn’t have lived 264 months, I shouldn’t have lived 1,188 weeks, I shouldn’t have lived 8,008 days – but I did! For some odd reason, far beyond my comprehension, I am alive and passionate about living (now).

Oh, how many times my life should have ended. How many times I should have died. So many times I heard the darkness and followed it, and it almost engulfed me. How many times was I foolish? How many times did I try to end my own life; and here I am 22 years old!

I never expected to live past my 21 birthday, but here I am at 22 and I realize this is for real; I am truly supposed to be alive. It’s an exhilarating feeling when you finally realize that.

So here I am flabbergasted, in awe of our Mighty Creator and very thankful for the people He’s placed in my life. This isn’t just mine and the Lords victory over the enemy, but this is OUR victory – ours as a family.

Thank you so much to the many that helped, walked, held and screamed at me along the way. Thank you to my support team, for never leaving or quaking next to me. Thank you to my prayer partners for always taking my request and never questioning why I was asking for prayer. Thank you to my friends who distracted me when needed and told me the bitter truth when necessary. Thank you to my mentors for being the leaders I needed to look up to, thank you for listening to my whining, complaining and screaming; thank you for understanding.

Thank you, thank you for helping me grow into the person the Lord has called me to be.

I couldn’t have survived so easily if it wasn’t for your help. Thank you for never losing hope or faith in me. Thank you for your part in me reaching my 8,008 days, 1,188 weeks, 264 months and my 22 years on earth.

Thank you,
~Stella Star Cordova


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To read my other birthday blogs, go here.