Everyday

I die daily.

1 Corinthians 15:31

The Apostle Paul said this in his letter to the Corinth church. In other versions it reads, "I face death daily." 

Me too, Paul. Me too.

I die daily to the desire to quit. I die daily to the nagging feeling in my gut telling me to stay in bed. I die daily to pushing everyone I know and need away. I die daily to going back into my clam shell. I die daily to the tapes in my head that replay arguments I've won and lost. I die daily to self talk that tells me I'm lazy and stupid and ugly. I die daily to the voice that tells me my life is not worth living. I die to what I am inclined to think and do and desire in the depression.

That's a lot of dying there. A lot of death. 

And with it comes my choice to live. To not just breathe and do but to just be and in that being to be me. I get to live. And see the sun and sea and grass and trees and clouds and... breathe.

For real. This is what I get to breathe and drink in.

I live and I run and I dance and I write. I read and I talk and I eat and I sleep and I dream. I raise babies and love my husband and deepen relationships.

And in that being I'm creating who I want to be. 

I want to be the mom who volunteers and lets the church's toddler class play (too) loudly. I want to be the wife who remembers her husband's favorite foods. I want to be the mom who lets her boy be wild and her girl be mild. I want to be the woman who is creative and engaging. I want to be the friend who washes the feet of those she loves. 

And in all fairness: I am that woman.

And everyday I choose. I either dwell and die in the past and the hurts and the depression or I die to the past and the hurts and the depression. Yes, they are still there: I don't deny their existence. That's why I face death daily (sometimes minute by minute). And I choose who and what dies within me. And I choose who and what lives within me.

And it's a fight to the death and a victory to the living. 

I fight death by living now. I choose it: intentionally, thoughtfully, willfully, thankfully, and prayerfully albeit not perfectly. And it feels like a fight to the death and then to the life.

I die (proverbially) so that I can live (in actuality). 

I live. 

And it's worth the fight to live.

Questions, comments, or feedback? Feel free to communicate via email at ladyscholarheidiva@gmail.com or right here on the blog.