Tomorrow, Monday, October 19th, is the six-year anniversary of the accident that changed my life. I see now, what a gift it is to look back and point to such a terrifying and painful moment, and be able to say THANK YOU.
This morning, at the North End Collective, where I attend church I read this during worship... it's part journal entry, part prayer, part poetry... It is always such an honor to collaborate and create within such an incredible community of people.
Anyway, here it is:This is the intersection that changed my life.
When my pain was raw and gaping, too wide, too deep to cross alone,
When my memory failed and anxiety rose until it was the only noise I heard,
When my bones creaked and balance forced me to list to the right, ever so slightly,
When I was reduced to an empty picture frame of my former self – all sharp corners and boundaries – no end in sight,
When I measured my courage by the pocketful – I never seem to have enough pockets - and I heard my small voice tremble,
These were the moments, the intersections, when your kingdom breaks through. You’ve met me here, every single time.
There will come a day when I won’t wait to call your name. God of heaven and earth, come. Hold me together.
There are days I shrug and say it was only an accident. Other days I look in the mirror and search for the person I was and the life I had before the instant a car crashed into the left side of my body. But, that life disappeared like a vapor, and I am more aware than ever that each breath is a gift.
There will come a day when I run the hills and stretch and breathe knowing it’s your power, your strength made perfect, deep inside my brokenness.
These past six years have found me in the bowels of a Bangkok brothel, the wilds of my homeland on the edge of Mt. Rainer, the halls of the Ivy League, the overcrowded Los Angeles freeways where I did an awful lot of growing up. I have spoken in conferences and classrooms and cities I never dreamed I’d see. Some days are a long haul, other days it’s a free fall. Though there are moments when that familiar limp returns, I am amazed that nothing – not one moment – is wasted. Every lesson is a gift.
There will come a day when I open my mouth to speak and the power of your love shatters the darkness, breaks every chain, sets us all free. Let your love speak through me.
Still other days, when I open my eyes, roll out of bed, and walk the dog in the cool of the morning, (it’s getting pretty cold) I can feel how much I’ve grown into my own skin and how I am so much stronger than I appear. I can take back the day. I can inhale and exhale and use my voice to love people well right where they are because I know what it is to be broken. I know what it is to be forced to start over. And over. And over. But, I also know what it is to be set free.
Let my life be an intersection of your peace.