The breathe in my lungs, such a natural thing. In out. In out. In out… wait, something isn’t right, in… help but nobody is here, out… I felt this before, do not resist do knot resissttee nt fiht it the words go jumbled the time ceases to move in out in out in out in out inbout inofuehwbf don’t panic don’t panic … head hazy, going dark, panic, I can’t do this, I can’t I can’t I can’t


In the silent racing, in the space between, I hear His voice.

Amidst the sheer panic, the resistance is futile yet I am a stubborn woman, “I have to control this, I’ve felt this before and I managed it”.


Let. Go.

A calm begins to wash me clean, though the breathe is still rising and falling too rapidly for comfort, not deep enough to feel it down in my diagram, shallow but so heavy, labored – panic.

Christina, just. Breathe. Yahweh, in out, My Holy name. In – yah, out – weh. Over again, you can do it. Again, again again again.

No, fighting back, control this, it isn’t up to anyone but me.

Stop. No.

It is up to God.

Every breathe, every cursed thought, every longing, every dream, every feeling, and yes, every single breathe – it is His.

But I cannot do this Father. It hurts, it hurts, don’t you see I am panicking, don’t you see what I have to lose? What am I to do?

My heart, Father, it beats too quickly, might explode from my chest. My heart, God, it breaks and I cannot catch my breathe.

How is this Your plan?

My child, you’ve forgotten. I parted the Seas, I set the captives free. I laid my hands on dead lips and from my power life restored. I gave you my Son, and look what He has done, and you – feeble mortal woman, dare question that I cannot do THIS?

How highly you believe yourself to be, how mighty, that you can control this, and yet cry out to Me to save you when you won’t let go.

I am at once condemned and then set free, in a moment, between shallow breathes.

This is not the end. Do not listen to that voice that tells you I cannot deliver you, do not give in to fear, my child.


I work all things for good, and your broken heart is not the end, it is only the beginning.

Stand up, child, and go on.

I know it hurts. I’ve felt this before when the mobs cast lots for my robes, when the thorny crown sunk heavy into my brow, when the nails pierced my flesh.

I could not breathe. In out inoutinout innnn …. out …

Death was not the end.

I did this for you.

What have you to fear when death is defeated? You cannot catch your breathe, so reach out for My stronger arms, and rest here. Rest though it hurts, trust, though you are afraid.

Stand up, child, and take one more step.

In faith, not in fear.

Please, I welcome your thoughts, perspective, and new ideas on anything I have written here!

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