Sponge Cake
I woke up from a dream this morning. In the dream, I was standing in front of a congregation at church, telling people all the things I have to be thankful for that have happened in my life lately. At face value, all the things I mentioned could be evaluated as “meh,” ho-hum, just normal fluff stuff—but I knew what they meant. At the start of my talk, I was nervous because public speaking is not my favorite (okay I’d rather have a root cancel with no anesthesia) but by the end—as Katy says—baby, I was a firework.
I like to think I notice the little things in life, but on the regular, I’m sure I miss most of it. I did take note of something that happened to me yesterday (real life), and this was one of the things I highlighted in my church talk (dream life).
Yesterday morning it was starting to rain again, but I really wanted to ride my mountain bike. I knew that the trails would be muddy and flooded, so I compromised and opted for the streets and a paved path. I headed out and into elementary school traffic in my neighborhood. Coming to a busy intersection, I attempted to wedge myself between the long stack of cars lined up to turn right, and the sidewalk. Long-simple-story short: It was the perfect storm and I fell into/onto the gutter-curb-sidewalk. It was that slow motion thing where your life is sort of passing in front of your eyes and you have time to think, “Oh…this…is…happening….CRASH.”
The guy next to me rolled down his window and—with a pained look on his face—asked, “Are you okay?” Humiliated, I smiled, gave him a thumbs-up, “I’m great, thanks.”
Here’s the thing. And I know this is going to sound “meh,” routine or like a no-biggie, maybe just some good luck fluff. But hear me: I hit that concrete sidewalk so hard with my body it makes no sense whatsoever that it didn’t break me: I broke my fall with my already twice-injured elbow. It was like dropping a porcelain teacup on cement; it was a fait accompli. As I began to hit, it flashed into my mind, “I am totally breaking my elbow right now.” I’ve run out of luck and third time’s a charm kind-of-thought.
But after I full-force hit the cement, I literally popped up like sponge cake. It hurt like-a-mama, but it was not one iota commensurate with the fall. It didn’t make sense. This cannot be explained away. I was a sponge cake alongside the flawless teacup.
This morning, I’m sore, but I should be messed up. My arm cast or at least wrapped. Medicated.
A miracle is defined as “a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.” We tend to think miracles are only when the Red Sea parts, but I think they’re so much more common than we notice.
I don’t think this was a near-death experience, guys, but do I think this was an actual miracle? You bet your bundt.
And I just wanted to stand up before and let you know, I noticed. And I know what it means.