Maybe you've been there — it's easier to say "no" to something when it's not right in front of you. If I don't want to spend money, I avoid shopping. If I'm cutting back on sugar, I skip the donut shop. And if I'm trying to quit soda, I don't keep any in the house. Keeping temptation out of sight makes it easier to resist.
But sometimes life doesn't give you that option. Sometimes, what you long for is right there — close enough to hurt but forever out of reach.
I've practiced fasting off and on for years. It's taught me much about myself, especially how weak my self-control can be. When I choose to give something up, I can prepare for it. I can plan ahead, adjust my schedule, and mentally brace myself for the challenge.
But there's a big difference between choosing to go without and being forced to.
Grieving Texa feels like a mix of both. I never chose this. I wasn't warned or given time to prepare. Her death was thrust on me, and now I live every day surrounded by reminders of her. Memories, her belongings, and even little moments that bring her to mind are always there. And no matter how much I long for her, I can't have her back.
Every day, I stand at that crossroads of desire and reality. It takes everything I've got to get up and keep going.
This is the most brutal fast I've ever endured. But I hold on to God's promises that He's making all things new — even now. And I cling to the hope that resurrection will have the final word.
