I remember peeing on the strip and thinking, “please God no!
Not yet! I’m tired, I’m stressed, I’m weak, Not another one right now.”
I chose me, not baby.
The test was negative, my
immediate relief replaced facing my heart condition in that moment.
That is until it slammed me in the face at the most unlikely
of moments…
Right after I watched one of those horrific Planned
Parenthood videos. The one where they mention all the baby ‘parts’ that day
being all mixed up in a huge trash bag...
death, evil, destruction, darkness, disgust
the
kind that evokes tears, churns tummies, and brandishes weapons.
Then I remembered it…
I too, in a moment of
desperation said. “I choose me, not baby”
I am not comparing them. I am
straight up calling them the SAME THING.
Sin. The sickness unto death.
My time, my plan, my health, my
idea of ‘good timing’, over trust, over surrender, over faith. I chose me over the possibility of a life other than my own, a life
that will take, and need, and cry.
I can’t tell you how many times a week this happens, the symptoms of this death are all over my life.
“I choose me”
In my marriage, in my motherhood, in my alone time.
The pulling, the CONSTANT
pulling, of my life towards myself, like a tug of war game between me vs. God. Control
vs. Surrender. Comfort vs. Service. Death vs. Life.
My mind, my will cannot curb my
appetite for more me. Because my mind and will are controlled by me.The more I eat the more I want.
“Who can rescue me from this
body of death?
Who can rescue this world from such death?
11And if the Spirit of him who
raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, he who raised Christ from the dead
will also give life to your mortal bodies because of his Spirit who lives in
you.”
Our mortal bodies.
Our mortal, dying bodies
Our ravenously selfish Tuesday afternoons,
Our flesh…can have life.
