I Am (alive)

I was commenting on a friend’s blog this morning, and when it posted, the date was July 9th. Car accident day. For the last few years, the date has been unremarkable, and in Cambodia this morning, it’s actually July 10th. My brain and body went through the entire day yesterday with no physical or emotional hang ups.  But somehow when I saw the date in print this morning, I got a tiny bit stuck.

I never did my I AM on Sunday, so how about I do it today?

I Am (alive)

I Am a cup of instant coffee in 2013, and at the same time, a travel mug of some kind of cheap brew in 2004 on my way to work. I am ice chips in the ER, hand-fed soft foods by my mom for a week, ice cream in a motorized Wal-Mart shopping cart, and a month’s worth of home cooked meals, with a qdoba or two thrown in there.

I Am on Coliseum Blvd, headed toward the Boys & Girls Club on a happy, sunny Friday. I am recklessly propelled forward by something outside my control. I am underneath the giant wheel of a semi, one foot on earth, the other resigned to inevitable afterlife. I am laying flat as the wheel rolls over my car and I am wrapped around a tree when it’s over. I am in an ambulance, then in the hospital, then in Indy, then at Bec’s. Six weeks later I am back at work.

I Am they guy who saw it happen and thought I was dead. I am the first responder and the paramedics and the jaws of life cutting me out. I am the nurse handing me the phone with my mom on the other side. I am my best friend’s face as we both realized what could have been. I am her parents on the other side of the curtain, and my boss and coworkers waiting for me outside. I am the friend who hosted me on the ground-level for the amount of time it took to be able to climb the stairs to my own apartment. I am Michael Gray, mid-seizure, and I am the two kids in his backseat. I am my lawyer the day he told me Mr. Gray died. I am the Insurance agent who got fired for negligence, the Anthem agent who took cash from the settlement for medical bills, and the Nationwide agent who claimed the rest for reimbursement.

I Am “It’s okay” and “You’re okay” and “I thought you were dead” and “The defendant died.”  I am “You’re alive.”



4 thoughts on “I Am (alive)”

  1. I am a shopping list of fresh fruit and vegetables. I am a perfectly diced onion. I am quinoa and couscous. I am “Excuse me sir, what is a radicchio and where can I find one?” I am non-processed, make your own dressing. I am a youtube video of how to de-seed a cucumber. I am a completely mutilated mango. I am “Do you think this is done? Can I put this pan in the oven? Should I make this again?” I am learning to cook.

    I am sitting in church watching a little girl who I’ve never met be dedicated. She claps everytime the church body claps. I am overwhelmed with love in a way that only the Holy Spirit can inspire. I am in the pediatric oncology unit with that same little girl on my lap. She keeps adjusting her blanket because my shirt is itchy on her sweet, bald head. Her mom is here with us now, redefining phrases like reliance on God, waiting on God, trusting that He is for our good. She is broken and strong at the same time. Her shirt isn’t itchy. I am sitting at my desk at home, drowning in a sea of documentation that proves I’m fit to be a parent. I’m writing an email, in the wrong language, to my daughter who does not yet know I call her my own.

    I am a lhasa apso who’s not very smart, but has perfected the look of love. I am a Great Dane who reads my every move and is a constant companion. I am a cat who holds the house hostage with scream meows, demanding food or love on his terms. I am working alone in my car flipping between the latest pop song and worship music. I am an unexpected group of ladies at Bible study who don’t know me, but let me cry in front of them. They pray over me and say such encouraging things they could only come from God. I am alone at my kitchen table with my Bible and God, learning that He is enough. I am alone and I am okay.

    I am “God is sovereign”, “His ways are not our ways”, “His timing matters”, and “His grace is sufficient.” I am “Please let us remember that this adoption isn’t about us or even her, but about you God.” I am “Leave room in your heart for God to perform a miracle.” I am screaming these truths into my life and my heart.


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