a love story: the life before the life
Warning! The following post is some serious bean-spilling. It’s my business. Please consider yourself forewarned and proceed with caution. I wasn’t messing around when I said I was about to shuck off some fears with the word of my testimony. It’s going down here every Tuesday. Shoot me an email about it if you want. I’m not doing this just to hear my own head rattle. Here goes the first installment:
A LOVE STORY: THE LIFE BEFORE THE LIFE
I take taekwondo and become good at meditation. One gives us a word – “Strength,” and we visualize, hone in, and manage control of the idea, which manifests itself physically as we practice.
At this point, I know I’m pregnant, and I still do 200 crunches a day. I hold my Bible against my chest. Everything is secret. I will never be good.
The thing about abortion is that many, many women have them. Your closest friends. And they don’t tell you. We can carry grief like a tight lead jacket under our prettiest blouses and never say a thing.
It doesn’t compare to all my addictions, the moment on the secret-table when I know it’s over and is sin. My lights go out, and I near the end of my own death march.
A month later the sun blares in on morning, and I see a zombie in the mirror, and I can’t walk anymore. I put my hands to the floor and lie on my side. I think each breath is my last. I wait for the tunnel, because I know I’m lying at God’s mercy.
Giving God an ultimatum is risky, but I have nothing to lose, so there I ask – do I die or do You live? And here I gasp my first real breath, as if I’ve been swimming up and up from an ear-popping deep. I finally breathe. My body warms and fills with holy wine. I’ve drunk my only favorite cup, and I’m Eve again, naked in her garden. When He breathes, I recognize his smell.
Continue reading the story HERE.