The Stones That Led Us Here: Remembering God’s Faithfulness When Life Feels Uncertain
Have you ever looked at your life and wondered, “How in the world did I get here?”
I had that moment the day my husband and I packed up our life in New Jersey—friends, familiar routines, the town our kids grew up in—and drove ten hours to South Carolina without knowing a single soul. Every time someone hears that, they say, “Wow, that’s brave.”
But it didn’t feel brave.
It felt like stepping onto a path God had already paved—stone by stone—long before we saw the destination.
And it all traces back to a story in the book of Joshua.
The Story Behind the Stones
When the Israelites were entering the Promised Land, they had to cross the Jordan River during flood season. The river was overflowing its banks—wild, dangerous, impossible to cross.
But God gave Joshua an instruction that made no sense unless you trusted Him:
The priests were to step into the river carrying the ark of the covenant… before the waters parted.
Not after.
Not when it looked safe.
Not when it made sense.
As soon as their feet touched the water, God did the miraculous.
The rushing river stopped.
A wall of water rose up in the distance.
And the people crossed on dry ground.
Then God told them to pick up twelve stones from the middle of that river — from the very place where God held back the waters — and stack them as a memorial.
“In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them…”
— Joshua 4:6–7
Those stones were physical reminders of God’s faithfulness.
A story they could see.
A testimony they could pass down.
Something for every generation.
That story shaped me deeply as a young mom—because I, too, am forgetful. And I, too, needed something physical to remind me of God’s goodness.
Our Own Jar of Stones
Years ago, when I had tiny babies and was quietly drowning in motherhood, I discovered a blogger named Kari Patterson. She lived across the country in Portland and had no idea who I was, but her reflections on faith carried me through a season where I felt exhausted, unsure, and in desperate need of spiritual grounding.
She shared about her family’s tradition inspired by Joshua 4, and something inside me lit up:
We need this.
Our family needs this.
So my husband and I began keeping our own “stones.”
A simple jar filled with little rocks, each one numbered and linked to a journal entry — a story of God’s provision. A tiny testimony of His faithfulness.
When I look at that jar now, it feels like flipping through the scrapbook of our spiritual history.
And one of the earliest stones in that jar takes me back to 2007.
Stone One: The Impossible Year
We bought our first condo in 2007 — right before the housing market collapsed.
Within months:
our mortgage was higher than the value of the condo
association fees kept rising
my husband went six months without being paid
we had a newborn
we had one income and bills we couldn’t meet
I remember one night praying—not fancy, not poetic—just a mom begging God for help:
“Lord, we need a couple thousand dollars. I don’t know how we’re going to make it.”
Later that day, my husband brought in the mail.
Inside was a letter from a man at our church.
With a check.
For the exact amount I prayed for.
My hands literally shook.
All the little hairs stood up on my arms.
It was one of those “God heard me” moments I will never forget.
Eventually we had to short-sell that condo, and by the world’s standards, that looked like failure. But God was writing a different story.
Stone Two: The Home We Didn’t Deserve
After we sold the condo, we had nowhere to go. We prayed for a tiny studio apartment — whatever we could afford.
But God had something else.
My husband’s college roommate and his wife were moving to China for two years and needed someone trustworthy to live in their beautiful home. They didn’t want renters, just someone they could trust.
Then they told us the amount they wanted us to pay.
It was the exact number — down to the dollar — that my husband and I had prayed we could afford.
They had no idea.
But God did.
Those two years in that house were some of the sweetest years of our early marriage. We hosted countless people, felt like we could breathe again, and experienced God’s kindness every single day.
Another stone in the jar.
The Move to South Carolina: A Leap Built on Stones
Eventually, after more moves and more provision (stories for another day!), it came time to make the biggest leap: leaving everything familiar and moving to South Carolina with our family of seven.
On paper, it made no sense.
But when I looked back at our stones — all the tiny miracles, the unexpected rescues, the ways God provided in the exact moment we needed it — I knew something:
God had been faithful before.
He would be faithful again.
And even now, when doubt creeps in or I feel overwhelmed or unsure, I walk over to that jar. I trace my fingers along those stones and I remember:
We are a forgetful people.
But God never forgets us.
Your Turn: What Are the Stones in Your Story?
If you were to pick up stones from your own life — moments where God met you, rescued you, carried you, gently redirected you — what would they be?
A bill paid when you had no idea how?
A friendship that came at exactly the right moment?
A door that shut… only to make room for a better one?
A whisper of peace in the middle of a storm?
Write them down.
Tell them to your children.
Share them with your friends.
Stack them where you can see them.
Because one day, when God invites you to step into your own “Jordan River”—before the waters part—it may be those stones that give you the courage to place your foot in the water.
