I Am Clay
“Behold, as the clay is in the potter's hand, so are ye in mine hand, O house of Israel.”
— Jeremiah 18:6 (KJV)
I've been thinking a lot lately about what God is doing in my life.
Not just about what He's doing for me, but what He's doing with me.
Because these past few months have been some of the most physically difficult months I've ever experienced. And yet, in the middle of all this pain, I've been watching things happen in my life that seem to be drawing me closer to Him.
Doors are opening. Conversations are happening. Relationships are changing. My writing is reaching people.
And I'm still trying to understand where all of this is leading.
But maybe that's the point.
Clay doesn't get to decide what the Potter is making.
It simply remains in His hands.
The Body I'm Living In
It's been more than three months since the automobile accident on July 6, 2026.
Three months of neck pain, back pain, dizziness, pressure behind my eyes, blurred vision, and sensations around the base of my skull that have been difficult to explain.
There have been days when I've felt like I was making progress, only to wake up the next morning feeling like I was starting all over again.
The stiffness. The burning. The grinding. The exhaustion.
It's been a lot.
At one point, I began feeling a grinding sensation around the area where my skull meets my upper spine. I started pressing around that area, trying to figure out what I was feeling, and eventually experienced a significant pop.
It felt as though something that had been sitting improperly had finally moved back into place.
And afterward, I began noticing changes in the symptoms that had been troubling me for months.
When I described what had happened to a doctor, including the symptoms I'd been experiencing and what I'd physically felt, he examined the area himself. Based on his examination and what I described, he told me that my explanation sounded consistent with what had happened.
I've had CT scans, a CT angiogram to look for possible blood vessel injuries, and MRIs.
Thankfully, the angiogram didn't reveal the vascular problem they were looking for.
The cervical MRI did show disc problems, including a 2-millimeter protrusion at C3–C4 and a 3-millimeter protrusion at C5–C6, both pressing against the thecal sac. There was also narrowing of the disc space at C5–C6.
But I've continued having symptoms around the base of my skull, and further imaging of that upper area, including the occipital region and C1, has been discussed.
I'm still looking for answers.
Yesterday, Friday, October 23, I went to therapy again. My neurological rehabilitation appointment, which had originally been scheduled earlier, was moved to Monday.
During therapy, I was on a cervical decompression table, followed by lumbar decompression, and then a flexion-distraction table. I also received a chiropractic adjustment.
Although some of the treatment brought relief, my back has remained incredibly tight.
Last night, I was working on it myself with a lacrosse ball, a peanut ball, and a massage gun, trying to get some of those stubborn muscles to loosen up.
Sometimes I can feel them release.
Sometimes the relief lasts.
Sometimes it doesn't.
I've also been developing a gentle morning and evening mobility routine, trying to do something constructive for my body without overdoing it.
Monday, I have more appointments, including neurological rehabilitation and therapy. Friday, October 30, I return to pain management.
There's also been concern about whether I may have suffered a concussion in the accident.
So I'm still trying to understand what's happening with my body.
But at least things are moving.
Not as quickly as I'd like, but they're moving.
And so am I.
Even when it hurts.
Doors I Didn't Expect
Something else has been happening during this recovery.
I've been feeling increasingly drawn toward serving God in ways that go beyond writing.
Not long ago, after leaving therapy, I found myself stopping by Grace Point Church in Portland to speak with Pastor Hunter.
I wanted to see how I could help.
Honestly, I had something pretty simple in mind.
Cleaning.
I figured I could help clean the church, take care of things around the building, and do whatever needed to be done.
So I filled out a volunteer application online.
Then I received a call from Melissa at the church.
She wanted to clarify something.
Was I interested in helping with cleaning, or was I interested in student ministry?
Apparently, student ministry had been selected on my application.
Now, whether I clicked the wrong thing or selected it without thinking much about it, I couldn't tell you.
But there it was.
And suddenly, I found myself considering something I hadn't originally gone there to do.
Working with young people.
Helping them learn about God.
Being involved in their lives in a meaningful way.
Am I ready for something like that?
I don't know.
I still have so much to learn myself.
But perhaps being willing to serve doesn't mean having all the answers.
Perhaps it means being willing to learn while serving.
Pastor Hunter also set aside a book called The Four Priorities for us to study together.
And on top of all of this, I've been accepted into Stark College & Seminary.
So now I'm looking at my life and realizing that several things seem to be moving in the same direction.
My studies.
My writing.
My church involvement.
My relationship with God.
I don't know exactly what He's preparing me for.
But I want to remain willing.
A Beautiful Transition
Thursday, October 22, I found out I had another problem to deal with.
My car.
My mechanic friend, Skyler, discovered that the rear passenger-side wheel hub was damaged. He sent me a video showing just how bad it was, with the rear wheel practically dangling from the car.
He warned me not to drive it because the wheel could potentially come off.
So that was that.
No driving.
The replacement part was ordered, but it wasn't expected until Monday or Tuesday.
Then Friday, I stopped at Subway to get something to eat.
I wanted an Italian Trio wrap, along with chips and a drink. I was also getting two additional Italian Trio wraps for my loved ones.
But when I tried to pay, my debit card was declined.
I had another card I could use, but it wasn't one I wanted to spend money from. So I decided against getting the chips and drink and purchased only the three Italian Trio wraps.
I didn't want to spend any more than I had to.
Later, I was at a friend's office and tried to buy a Payday candy bar from a vending machine.
Declined again.
I ended up using cash to get the candy and some water.
And yes, I know. Being diabetic, a candy bar isn't exactly the smartest choice.
But that's what happened.
This morning, Saturday, October 24, I called the bank and found out that my debit card had been suspended because of suspected fraudulent activity.
I needed a replacement.
But my car wasn't safe to drive.
So I got on my bicycle.
With my neck hurting.
With my back hurting.
With everything I've been dealing with physically.
And I rode to the bank.
Now, there's something about the person I spoke with at the bank that makes this story especially meaningful.
Almost two years ago, shortly after my mother passed away, my father and I had an unpleasant encounter with this same representative.
It wasn’t a good interaction. Maybe she was going through something herself. I don’t know. At the time, I wasn’t pleased with how things went.
Someone else eventually stepped in to help us.
But later, she apologized.
And over time, whenever I would see her, things became friendlier between us.
Today, though, something different happened.
We started talking.
Not just about banking.
About life.
About God.
About faith.
About writing.
And what began as a conversation about replacing my debit card turned into something genuinely meaningful.
I learned that she's been keeping journals since she was sixteen years old.
She's been writing for years, and she's also working on a fiction book.
She told me about a time when she'd reached a point in her writing where she wasn't sure how to continue. She prayed about it, asking God for guidance, and afterward, she felt that He had given her what she needed to write.
The words began flowing. She wrote several pages and was able to finish a chapter she'd been struggling to complete.
I could appreciate that, especially as someone who writes myself.
I told her about my own writing, including my books and some of the screenplays I've been working on. I also shared my blog with her, and she said she was going to check it out, along with my books.
For anyone interested, you can explore my books and creative projects here:
I explained that I call my blog My Human Xperience because I believe we're spirits, or souls, if you want to call them that, having a human experience.
She shared that she felt the same way, and we began talking about how remarkable it is that we're all having our own human experiences while interacting with other souls who are experiencing life in their own ways.
And the conversation just went from there.
We really did have a lot to talk about, unexpectedly.
I also told her that if she ever wanted help getting her own writing published, I'd be happy to help.
What started as a trip to replace my debit card had turned into a conversation about writing, faith, life, and what it means to be human.
And somewhere in the middle of that conversation, we started talking about how our relationship had begun.
I told her, “Isn't it crazy how this started? It started off sloppy.”
And it did.
But look at where it led.
She told me that our original encounter had actually changed something in her for the better.
And I found myself thinking about how much both of us may have grown since then.
Separately.
In our own lives.
Through our own experiences.
And now, here we were, encouraging one another.
I told her something else that I've come to believe.
The devil is a gatekeeper.
Because think about how easily resentment can keep people apart.
One bad encounter.
One misunderstanding.
One unpleasant memory.
And we decide that's all there is to another person.
We close the door.
We never find out what might have been on the other side of it.
But today, I was reminded of something Scripture says:
“Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend.”
— Proverbs 27:17 (KJV)
We talked about our faith, the things we've experienced, and what we hope to do with our lives.
And I left that bank feeling encouraged.
Not because my circumstances had suddenly changed.
My neck still hurt.
My back still hurt.
My car was still broken.
But something good had come out of an ordinary errand.
Something that began with an unpleasant encounter nearly two years ago had become a beautiful transition.
Before I left, she had one more thing she wanted to tell me.
She said she believed God wanted her to deliver a message to me.
That things were going to start changing for the better. That I was going to recover. And that things were going to begin happening for me spiritually.
She told me that once those things started happening, they were going to take off “full throttle.”
Those were her words.
I don't know exactly what the future holds, or how or when any of those things might unfold. But I appreciated what she shared with me, and I took her words to heart.
And to think, all I went to the bank for was a new card.
Reaching Others Through My Testimony
Throughout my recovery, friends have reached out to check on me, wish me well, and let me know they're praying for me.
I appreciate every one of them.
Some have also shared how my blog entries, and the experiences I've been writing about, have encouraged them to draw closer to God.
Others have told me they're coming to Christ.
And there's someone very dear to me, someone who's been part of my life, who has shared that my story has helped her come to Christ.
That means a great deal to me because of how important she is in my life.
I hope God continues to use me as an instrument in her spiritual journey, encouraging her as she grows closer to Him.
I'm sharing my experiences, my struggles, my faith, and what I'm learning along the way.
If those words are helping someone strengthen their relationship with God or turn toward Christ, then I give God the glory.
I believe He's using what I'm going through to reach other people, even while He's still working on me.
And one of the friends I've been talking with about all of this is my brother Chris.
My Brother Chris
When I got home from the bank today, I responded to a message Chris had sent earlier.
He'd been checking on my recovery, offering prayers, and encouraging me about my writing.
I asked him to give me a call.
And just a little while ago, we talked.
We talked about what I've been going through, about suffering, and about how God can work through the trials in our lives.
I told Chris that sometimes we try so hard to figure out why something is happening to us.
We search for a hidden meaning.
A reason.
A purpose.
And maybe sometimes there is one.
But maybe sometimes we're simply experiencing the trials that Scripture already tells us we'll face.
Maybe the lesson isn't always about discovering why we're suffering.
Maybe it's about learning how to remain faithful while we suffer.
How to find joy in the middle of it.
How to trust God even when we don't understand what's happening.
Chris told me something that meant a lot.
He said I have a gift for reaching people through my words.
For drawing people in.
For touching their souls.
And I appreciated that.
But I told him that whatever ability I have comes from God.
I'm just the instrument.
The words may come through me, but I don't want the glory for what God is doing with them.
Chris told me that he listens to my blog entries while he's on the road working.
And he talked about something I'd written in my previous entry, These Human Bodies: Just Passing Through.
There was a part where I spoke about wanting God Himself.
Not a boat.
Not a helicopter.
Not medicine.
Not the things He could give me.
Just Him.
And that stayed with Chris.
He understood what I meant.
We talked about how easy it can be to approach God because we need something.
Healing.
Money.
Help.
A way out of trouble.
And there's nothing wrong with bringing our needs before Him.
But what happens when we begin to want Him simply because He's God?
Because we love Him?
Because we want to know Him?
Not because of what He can provide.
That was the heart of what I'd been trying to express.
And hearing Chris talk about how those words affected him meant a great deal to me.
Because he's not just reading something I wrote.
He's thinking about his own relationship with God.
And we're able to talk about those things together.
Two friends.
Two imperfect human beings.
Trying to grow closer to our Creator.
Faith, Medicine, and Discernment
During our conversation, I also talked with Chris about something I've been wrestling with personally.
Faith and healing.
For more than a week now, I've gone without the pain medications, muscle relaxers, and anti-inflammatory medicines I'd previously been using.
That has been a personal decision connected to my desire to place my trust in God.
But I've also been thinking deeply about what faith really means when it comes to medical treatment.
Because I believe God can heal.
I believe He can do things beyond our understanding.
But I also believe doctors, medicine, and the knowledge we've been given can be gifts from Him.
And that raises an important question.
How do we know when we're exercising faith, and when we might be misunderstanding what God is asking of us?
I think about my father's adoptive father, Guillermo Aleman.
From what I've been told, he refused medication for a condition the family believed could have been treated.
He believed in God.
He believed in healing.
But he died.
And I know that experience deeply affected my father.
I've been thinking about that lately.
Not because I know what was in my grandfather's heart.
I don't.
And I can't say why he made the decisions he made.
But it makes me think about the importance of discernment.
Of seeking God's wisdom rather than simply assuming that one decision demonstrates more faith than another.
Maybe accepting medical treatment doesn't mean we're trusting God any less.
Maybe sometimes it's one of the ways God provides help.
I want to talk with my father about that.
Because I think there's something important there for both of us.
Faith isn't about proving something to God.
It's about trusting Him.
And trusting Him also means being willing to seek wisdom.
The Miracles Chris Remembers
Chris also shared some experiences from his own life that have stayed with him.
He told me about his former wife, Laura, and a pregnancy when they believed they'd lost their baby.
According to Chris, a medical procedure had already been scheduled after they were told there had been a miscarriage.
But before that procedure went forward, a heartbeat was discovered.
That child was Mikayla.
And today, she's nineteen years old.
Chris remembers that experience as a miracle.
He also talked about another pregnancy, when there had been concern that his son Joshua might have Down syndrome.
Chris prayed.
And when Joshua was born, he did not have the condition they had been concerned about.
Those experiences have remained part of Chris's understanding of God's presence in his life.
And as he shared them with me, I could hear how much they meant to him.
We talked about faith, about the experiences we've lived through, and about the way our understanding of God changes as we grow older.
Chris and Laura are no longer married, but they're on civil terms.
Life has taken its turns.
Relationships have changed.
And yet, there are still things worth remembering with gratitude.
Chris mentioned that he might call me again later this evening.
And I hope he does.
Because conversations like these are worth having.
Still Trying to Move Forward
Tomorrow is Sunday.
I'd like to go to Grace Point Church.
But I don't know how I'm going to feel physically.
And with my car out of commission, I'd have to find a ride.
I've thought about asking someone from the church if they could pick me up and bring me home afterward.
But I also worry about getting somewhere and then feeling too bad to stay.
There's another commitment I've been thinking about as well.
A friend of mine and his family are attending the final day of a cultural festival, and I've offered to help with some office work while they're away.
They're good people.
I've grown to care about them.
And I want to be helpful.
Although I have to admit, I'm also waiting on some naan bread and chicken curry.
You know who you are.
Don't think I forgot.
But joking aside, I'm still trying to figure out what my body can handle.
Even walking around the front yard can hurt.
Riding my bicycle to the bank hurt.
Sitting at an office for an extended period can hurt.
And sometimes, even when I'm doing something I enjoy, the pain is still there.
I want to help at church.
I want to be involved in student ministry if that's where I'm needed.
I want to keep studying.
I want to keep writing.
I want to keep moving forward with my life.
But I also need my body to cooperate.
Monday brings more appointments.
More therapy.
More neurological evaluation.
And hopefully, more answers about the symptoms I've been dealing with since July.
It's been more than three months.
And I'm tired.
Physically tired.
Mentally tired.
Sometimes emotionally tired.
But I haven't given up.
The Potter's Hands
When I look back over everything that's happened lately, I see so many different parts of my life moving at once.
My recovery.
My faith.
My writing.
My education.
My involvement with the church.
My friendships.
The people who have been encouraged by my testimony.
The person very dear to me whose journey toward Christ means so much.
The unexpected conversation at the bank.
The conversation with Chris.
All of these things are happening while I'm still dealing with pain and uncertainty.
And maybe that's what keeps bringing me back to the image of the Potter and the clay.
Clay doesn't know what it's becoming.
It doesn't know what the finished vessel will look like.
It doesn't know how long the process will take.
It only knows the hands that are shaping it.
And I don't know exactly what God is making of my life.
I don't know why some things have been so painful.
I don't know when my body will feel normal again.
I don't know what opportunities will come from the doors that are opening.
But I want to remain in His hands.
If He wants to use my writing to encourage someone, let Him use it.
If He wants to use my experiences to help someone find their way to Christ, let Him use them.
If He wants to teach me through the people I encounter, let me be willing to learn.
And if He's preparing me to serve in ways I haven't imagined, I pray that I'll have the courage and wisdom to follow Him.
Right now, I feel optimistic.
But I also know I'm not out of the woods yet.
I can still feel something going on at the back of my neck, around the base of my skull, that just doesn't feel right. And I can only pray that things get better, that God heals me.
In the meantime, I'm going to keep growing closer to Him. I'm going to keep doing what I need to do to build that relationship, strengthen my faith, and trust Him through whatever comes next.
I can want healing.
I can plead for it.
I can beg for it.
I can desire it with everything I have.
And perhaps my prayers will be answered in the way I'm hoping.
But ultimately, it's all on His time.
Not mine.
He's always on time.
Always on time, all the time.
And whatever comes next, I know whose hands I'm in.
I'm in the hands of the Artist.
I am clay.
A moment of faith. An invitation to know Christ.
Are You Saved? ♥
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