[ the death of self ]

   It was like there were two different people living within her body.

   The one who wanted to stay selfishly in the comfortable, familiar life. The one who wanted to run home to her parent's house and stay in her basement and curl up on her bed, eat Goldfish and watch movies. The one who wanted to defy the obvious path that was set before her.

   Then there was the one who wanted to leave everything behind, dare to step into the new, be this radical person. The one who wanted to go out into the world, meet new people, learn about and experience new cultures, do whatever came her way. The one who definitely wanted to follow the calling placed on her life and put her focus where it should be.

   So many thoughts. Too many thoughts.

   Confusion clouded her mind and refused to go away.

   Homesickness crowded in. Fear. Doubt. They all gathered together and began poisoning her emotions and thoughts with suffocation.

   Trapped.

   Between two different people and yet the same person.

   The voices of those close beckoned her to see the truth: that it would be okay.

   Why is this so hard, her thoughts scream. I know I said I wanted to follow You, whatever the cost, and actually give up my life for You, but this sucks.

   All the while, feeling His gentle yet firm presence. As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn't ignore His calling.

   Dying to self. Giving up those desires she wants for herself and going for the higher prize instead. Knowing that the decisions she makes now will determine and affect those made later. Knowing that His plans are ultimately always and forever will be better than any she could come up with.

   Regardless of what her mind was screaming at her, and what her heart was trying to direct her to -- she knew, deep down there somewhere, where she needed to go.

   She stubbornly fought it off as long as she could, but in the end, she knew she had to give in. Give into His grace, His mercy, His love.

   His peace.

   The sun dimmed to the dying light of the evening barely glancing upon the floor. Heart pounding, feet aching, sweat dripping. Now a mood switch from the upbeat to the heartfelt -- worship music in the background.

   "You make all things work together for my good.."

   A conversation running through her head, one she had with her mom years ago, discussing the topic of suicide. She recalls her mom saying that "God never gives us more than we can handle."

   The realization hits, the tears pour, the frustration reaches a breaking point.

   And she dances.

   The emotions, the crazed thoughts that were running amok -- everything slowed to a slowed rate, where things made more sense.

   Peace.

   And understanding.

   He really wouldn't give her more than she could handle.

   He really had the best for her.

   His sacrifice is more than she could ever imagine, and if she did, then giving up her life would have been nothing. The selfishness of herself began to become more apparent. She realized the part of her that wanted to stay the same was beyond foolish, it was lifeless. The drama that had been ensuing within her own mind took on the role of a ridiculous soap opera rather than a documentary.

   She began to understand the weight and the meaning of her decision -- but this time, it was okay. She knew that despite the pain, despite the needed crushing of self -- He would be there the entire time, guiding her.

   She knew she would never be happy doing her own way. The only fulfillment and satisfaction would come from doing His complete will. Not half of it. No half-assing. No half-heartedness.

   He will never give her more than she can handle.