Black
Don’t touch your forehead!
Black
The blur of numbness kicks in. Figures above me, one of which looks a little familar. The familiar one looked like my mother, the others I suppose were doctors. The one to my left asked, “What’s your name?” “Joel Bidderman,” I said. I thought it a little odd at first, since he could have just asked my mom because she was standing right there. Then he asked, “What day is it?” I said, “October 29th.” To that he said something like, “Actually, it’s the 30th; it’s 12:45 in the morning.” Great, of all the doctors I got the sarcastic one. But apparently up until then I had been saying all sorts of nonsense, and the little answers I had just given him were the most coherent. I had been unconscience up until then. All the lights, white walls, and even the white clothing hurt my head to look at. Slowly over the next hours I pieced together that I had been in an accident, and almost died. Now, all the things that went through my mind up until now are all insignificant next to this truth: God is in control. Not in the obviously christianesely regergetated statement. I mean, I knew down in my gut, beyond denial that God not only took notice of me, but wanted me around. I didn’t know exactly why He wanted me around, but I knew He must of had a reason.
Now I know (at least in part). He likes me. Not just loves me, but loves me, delights in me, and desires intimacy with me. My exsistence isn’t just a meloncoly, “oh, He doesn’t mind me taking up space” exsistence. No, He’s altogether interested in my place on earth. This is why my accident means so much to me. It’s not just that I survived, but that I was pulled through and out of the dark by the Universe shaking Hand, as He let me know in so many ways that He loves me.