I fell today (don't tell my Mom). Maybe not a huge deal for most people, but at 62 with RA, two artificial hips and two artificial knees, it was a huge deal.

As I crawled on my belly from my kitchen to my livingroom I realized a couple of things: First, I really need to clean my floors better. Second, I really don't want to die.

It's the second one that has me thinking today. I died once. Talked to dead relatives, etc. I was just about 17. After that, having seen and felt the evidence of heaven, I never really worried about dying. In fact, in the last 15 years of my miserable marriage, death seemed an easy way out. I never would have done anything to speed that inevitability, but I would have happily welcomed oblivion.

All together I went about 20 feet. 20 feet on my stomach, like a worm. I occasionally had to stop, and in those moments I would have to literally tell myself "Keep going, you're not going to die here."

It surprised me how much I meant it. After being in an emotional coma for almost two decades, I was NOT going to throw away my life. I was NOT going to quit on myself or give up.

I'm bruised and in a great deal of pain, but I am alive, thank you, God!
© Jodie S. Frink