There are those encounters you have that breathe a flicker of life back into you. They rescucitate you always at the most significant of times.
I met up with Perry yesterday and he reminded me once again that I must inhale. Otherwise I'd exhume before my time.
I guess I've been holding my breathe. These days have been painful, being deconstructed. I feel like and am like a house that is being built down. What you would see are my skeletons. Yes. I am like the valley of the dry bones. Thinking that I am preserving life by holding it in, I contain staleness. Holding on so desperately to death when what I need is life. I need God's breathe in me. His life, not mine. So why am I being such an ass about this? Prolonging death instead of embracing the living?
I want to move on.
