~ Isaiah 43:19
“Life is short.”
It’s a thing that we say when we don’t know what else to say – when the magnitude of the time we are given weighs heavily upon our hearts, particularly after someone’s life ends unexpectedly.
When we can’t fully accept or understand the whys and hows, and the wondering leads our thoughts in painful circles, we utter phrases like this in an attempt to find some resolve.
“Life is short.”
And it is. And it’s not. Life is life. It’s long when what lies before us is potential and opportunity, when we expectantly seek the future. It’s short when we find ourselves facing loss and grief head on, when we want more of what we can’t have.
“Life is short.”
In the past six months I’ve come to see my own life as much more than just the sum of its parts. More than time, more than joy, more than work, more than expectation. I’ve been actively pushing myself past forty-four years of self-imposed limitations created from fear, urging myself forward into unfamiliar spaces.
Two weeks ago I called my husband and cried as I described the joy I had in going to see a movie alone for the very first time. Tonight I went for a walk on College Ave. in the brisk night air after taking myself out for a fantastic Mediterranean dinner in the heart of Berkeley. Few would believe the anxiety I tackle, the exhausting negotiations I have with myself, the wall of fear I have to surmount to prompt such seemingly simple actions. But it’s the truth.
These days provoke me to live. There is no promise of longevity, but there is for abundance. I can’t count on a quantity of days or years but I can depend upon a renewing of my spirit.
“Life IS.”
This is the gift. God help me to live it, not quantify, criticize, compare, or neglect it.
Carrie Joy(ful) 