I am not going to tell you the story. But I will tell you about the story. This is not the story.
When I was on vacation with my parents, long ago, when I was an artist, we travelled to Banff, Canada. We rode a gondola to the top of this amazing mountain range and stared out across one of the most beautiful valleys I’ve ever seen. The brilliant blue sky. The dark forest green trees. The white mountain tops. The winding, icey, pale blue river that spun its way through the middle of it all. It was gorgeous. I found myself staring at it, forgetting the time, the people around me, as everything stood still for what felt like years.
I vowed never to take a photo, draw, paint or otherwise attempt to render what that landscape looked like. The only thing I could do was express in words, something intangible, what it looked like. Only the passion of my words would it really give any sense of obscure justice to what I saw that day.
This story, the one you’re hoping to read here but won’t find here, is exactly that. This story is not one where you can identify with it. It’s not a fake story, pushed into your tv with the hope that it is realistic. It’s so far fetched that you would never believe it was true unless you saw those words that said “based on a true story” before or after it. But it is real.
It’s compelling. It pushes the you not to feel pity for the person who went through it, because there really is a happy continuation (not “ending”). After hearing it, I consider my own fragile life. I consider my own frailty. I consider what I do not have the capacity to consider. Life. Death. Love. Fear.
It’s relevant. It’s happened within your lifetime (unless you’re two years old and can read already). It happened in a smallish town. Just a regular town. Just a regular hospital. Just a bunch of regular folks like you and I, but with one exception – God’s hand on their lives in a miraculous way.
So, my good friend, Misha Thompson, has written the first part of her story. Please, consider it’s implications, applications, and let it affect how you live. Please, don’t brush it off (if you can).
Please, read it.. [Update: Sorry, she has since password protected her blog.]
[tags]story, misha thompson[/tags]