Breath and Life
Recently I’ve been listening to a lot of soundtracks.
Why?
Well, because I feel like I’m listening to epic things–and they make me feel like I’m living an epic life.
Somehow they turn what is ordinary into moments that are extraordinary.
As I’m sitting here typing, I’m listening to Audiomachine. I recently discovered it.
It is quite literally just epic soundtracks for movies, commercials, and tv shows.
Ridiculously good.
My favorite album by them right now is “Tree of Life.”
Maybe I’m enamored by it because of the ebb and flow of heartache and joy. They flow together seamlessly.
Maybe it has something to do with the album name.
Whatever the reason, I just love it. I love sitting here listening to it.
I love listening to it as I work away at what seems like, sometimes, a pointless job or doing mindless tasks.
The past few weeks I’ve been learning a lot about life.
The Lord has been teaching me a lot through my aunt’s death.
This quote keeps popping up into my head:
“Life is not measured by the breaths you take. But by the moments that take your breath away.”
I’ve been thinking a lot about that.
How I can get so caught up in the ordinary–the mundane–and then I stop fighting for the extraordinary. I stop fighting to see the Lord move and work. And instead I become complacent and apathetic to what He wants to accomplish in and through me.
Our lives should be a series of moments that take our breath away.
Now that can look very different moment by moment.
Sometimes we can be taken away with joy and laughter.
But on the flip side, we can be taken away with sadness and sorrow.
Life wasn’t meant to be one constant stream of one particular emotion.
It was meant to be filled with a vast array of all different emotions that can take our breath away.
It’s been three years since my dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer with unknown origin.
And I still remember the days after that news–how it felt like someone kept punching me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of my lungs.
The fear, the anxiety, the sadness that I had to wade through over the next several months (and that I still do) were so real.
They took my breath away.
And I will forever remember those days–navigating those uncharted waters, and trying to be real with how I was feeling.
Even though it was an awful situation, I was allowing the Lord to teach me how to live an extraordinary life in those moments.
He was giving me permission to feel the full weight of my emotions.
And He was saying that it’s okay.
The moments that help define us–that help shape who we are–are not always positive experience. The moments that take our breath away are not always going to be happy and joyful.
That statement is hard to write. But it’s even harder to believe.
Deep down I want all my defining moments to be good ones. I want them to be filled with laughter and joy.
But.
That’s just not what happens.
Now, death isn’t my favorite subject. But I’m learning to be more free in talking about it–in sharing about my grieving process.
Because these have been moments have have taken my breath away.
They have become part of my story.
They have become extraordinary moments of my life.
Why?
Because they have taught me how to keep chasing after life.
But not just the mundane.
But the extraordinary.
Chasing after the Lord and all He has for me.
I can honestly say that life becomes much sweeter as you keep walking through the pain.
You learn what makes your life even more extraordinary, and you keep chasing those things.
You learn to savor the little moments.
You learn that it was actually the pain you experienced that brought you closer to the Father’s heart.
It’s not easy.
But it’s worth it.
Keep fighting through the pain.
Let Papa bind you up and carry you.
Let Him show you how life keeps moving forward, and that your pain is worthwhile, that He can work it together for some purpose you don’t see yet.
