I didn’t know that watching the Hunger Games would make me have deep thoughts.
If I would have known that I would have watched Step Up 2: A Dance Revolution.
But there’s this part in the Hunger Games where a little girl dies, and it left me wondering about my own mortality.
Being reminded of my mortality makes me feel creepy, it feels like my arm is in the other room waving at the neighbors, while my body is on the couch reading a book. It feels unnatural and despondent. But the reality is…
I’m going to die someday.
My husband is going to die someday.
My children (gulp) are going to die someday.
Our temporariness is what knits us together, makes us human.
My uncle died of suicide a few weeks ago. His life was marked by sin and destruction. He did unspeakable things, he was severely disturbed, and I honestly think the world is better off without him in it. I got the phone call on my way to a play date. I didn’t stop driving, I didn’t cry, I was in shock, but only because the word suicide creates a ripple down my spine that makes me feel weird and uncomfortable, and now how am I supposed to explain this phone call to my children who are sitting quietly in the backseat flipping the pages of dinosaur books, and eating cheese?
His life was not memorialized by our family.
He killed himself,
And we all shuffled on.
We didn’t even pause.
I want to create a life that demands a pause. That screams for it. I want dancing and celebration to be my life’s theme. And I want my children’s eyes to forever sparkle with the memories that we’ve created together.
I believe I am going to heaven when I die, I believe that there is a kingdom waiting for me, a kingdom filled with unrelenting love, with beauty so striking that I will have no choice but to be constantly arrested with astoundment, and out of my lips, I will sing songs of glory and everything around me will be good and pure.
When I remind myself of these things my life seems more purposeful, and the other little stuff falls away, it peels off, and hits the ground with a shatter. Sometimes I get so caught up in what I buy, or what I eat, Facebook, and mommy politics, picking a stupid fight with my husband, but all of it really doesn’t matter.
“We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea.” C.S. Lewis
I suppose I should be thanking the Hunger Games and my uncle for reminding me what life is about. Right now, it’s about bringing up these children of mine, that will loose teeth, grow tall, tell me stories with their tiny voices, that will eventually deepen with age and experience. My life is about kissing their ouchies, reading them poetry that makes them dream in technicolor, teaching them about God, and throwing dance parties in the living room.
Ultimately, I’m entrusting them with my legacy.