fifteen years

Fifteen years of undeserved life + breath.  Fifteen years, a gift.  We all know that each day we are alive is truly a gift, each new morning another day He has chosen to give us.  But I remember laying in the freezing dark cold of that snow, wet and shivering, being fully aware that this might be my last day.  We talked about it, my sister and I, as we clung to each other and to any semblance of warmth in that makeshift snowcave.  We knew God would be good even if He chose to end our lives in this way, on this mountain, at the ages of 16 and 20 years old.  He could have, but He didn’t.  In the swirl of emotions following our rescue, the way it felt to see a helicopter with men smiling and waving over us, the way it felt to be helped onto that helicopter, flown to a hospital, exiting to microphones from multiple news agencies in our faces; the way it felt to see our parents for the first time, and our siblings; to be interviewed on the Today Show.  I remember in the wake of all of that publicity returning back to my high school, walking the halls and being FULLY alive.  I could hardly handle the way it pierced me, I wanted to jump up and down and shake people and scream at everyone, “We are ALIVE, you guys!?!  This is insane.  Don’t you get it?  We all have been given ANOTHER DAY.”  We all sort of know that each day is a gift, but I can’t tell you what it felt like to know that God wanted us alive.  He chose to let us have another day, another embrace with our family, another breath.  Here we are, fifteen years later.  My sister and I both graduated high school, college, got married, have had three children each.  Life has gone on, God has granted us more time, and our hearts are mindful of the miracle that this is.  When we forget, our little “snowcave anniversary” comes up, year after year on February 12th, and we remember.