I am Marta.
I am an imperfect person made perfect through the grace of God.
I am eight inches of hair lying on the beauty salon floor.
I am the Caribou Coffee shop on Highway 65.
I am the white 2004 Buick LaSabre named Donald, whose battery is not underneath the hood but in the backseat.
I am the stained glass windows in LaGrave CRC.
I am the creek that runs behind my grandparents’ house.
I am a necklace made of two nails, soldered together to form an Ichthys.
I am a thunderstorm in Holland, Michigan summer of 2007.
I am the nights spent in my kitchen with my dad teaching me how to box out.
I am dozens of letters I never had the courage to send.
I am May 8, 2009, the day I said my first swear word out loud.
I am skype calls from Minneapolis to Sioux Center, and then eventually Sioux Center to Johannesburg, and Sioux Center to Nicaragua.
I am six million stars.
I am a job interview in Aaron Baart’s office.
I am the carpet squares in Trinity Reformed Church.
I am seat 23A from LAX to FSD.
I am a man telling me that my story mattered in the middle of a 4.87 million square foot building that was designed to tell me otherwise.
I am the cross made of wood from an old barn that hangs in the Worship Arts Room at Dordt College.
I am a forgiven sinner made whole through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.
I am Marta.