Prelude:
In the fall of 2012, four days before my brother’s wedding, my mother, sister, and I were in a car accident. The incident dramatically affected not only the course of my life, but my very identity.
In the proceeding months, blogging, journaling, and writing poetry became one of the primary ways I processed the accident and aftermath.
Looking through my old blog, Fraction, I was recently amazed at how quickly this process began for me. My first post after the accident was only two weeks later. It was titled “Hope.”
Over the next several months, I want to revisit some of these pivotal pieces as well as publish some of the poetry and other prose I had written during that time, but never published. My hope is that it will not only be healing for me to remember what God has brought me through, but also healing for those of you who have gone or are going through a similar experience.
If that’s you, please know: You are not alone.
I’m beginning with a piece which describes—in details I had since forgotten—what it was like for me to wake up that day. Although some of my theology has matured since I originally wrote it, I do hope you find it encouraging and inspiring.
Without further ado:
Month: July 2017
One Hundred Eleven
Here’s a random fact: It’s been two years, two months, and ten days since I last published an actual post on a personal blog (apart from the “I have a new website” posts that I did).
Obviously–given the two year gap–it’s been hard to get back into the groove of blogging. Having been dormant for so long, I’ve pretty much lost any sort of rhythm that I had. Thus my writing habits have devolved into random spurts that splatter themselves all over Google Drive. It’s terribly messy.
Part of the problem is that my actual job involves a lot of writing. And by “a lot,” I mean, it’s nearly all writing and sitting at a computer. Therefore, writing and sitting at a computer is usually the last thing I want to do for a hobby (unless it means mindlessly scrolling Facebook or surfing Youtube).
All that to say: the creative juices haven’t exactly been flowing.
Nevertheless, here I am. Writing. And that’s what counts, I guess.
Speaking of counting…
I should divulge something right away: I’m a little bit of a nerd. I built a fictional world when I was twelve years old, complete with maps, fragmented languages, histories, and a 70,000+ word novel; I watch YouTube videos about string theory for fun, I’ve read The Silmarillion three times (and other abstract Middle-Earth lore), and I notice quaint little things like when the clock reads 11:11.
In fact, a couple of years ago, I started noticing the time 11:11, or the number 1 anywhere in repeated consecutive order, so much that I began taking it as God’s way of reminding me that he loves me.
“Oh look, it’s 1:11pm. God loves me” or ‘Your destination is in 11.1 miles…’ “Aha! God loves me,” weird little stuff that only a nerd would find interesting. Could be coincidence, if you want to spoil all the fun.
This whole number thing is significant to me because over the past few years I’ve struggled to feel like I have any sort of meaningful connection with God. But I’m beginning to doubt my feelings more and more.
CHRISTOPHER’S BRAND NEW WEBSITE!
Hello friend! Welcome to my brand new website!
Twenty-seventeen has quickly become a “Year of Stretching” for me. That sounds awkward.
Let me explain. Continue reading