Are You Dead Yet?

Unless you are 10 years of age or younger, a nap is a beautiful thing. Truly, there is nothing like falling asleep on my favorite sofa. Perhaps a nice comfortable spot on the floor, in the sunshine spread eagle as if to absorb every last moment of peace that a nap can bring. Some people collect memories of mountaintop experiences: climbing Everest, Bungee jumping a New Zealand Gorge, finishing a novel; I collect these things (not those exact things) but I also have a sorting house in my head of my favorite places that I have taken naps. Usually, I recall beaches or grass patches in front of a famous building (I know, I'm a bit of a dullard at times). One of my favorite naps I ever took caused me to wake up laughing. I was laughing, not because the dream was funny, but how I awoke.
Christine, the girls and I lived in Fort Smith, Arkansas for a year. The residence provided for my internship was large, airy and full of windows. The bedroom Christine an I shared was wood paneled and dark - perfect for night sleeping. But, my favorite room to nap in, though, was called the cloud room. Across the ceiling, a previous resident had painted it blue with cottonball-like clouds scattered across. Two whole sides of the room were panes of glass and as I would settle down for a nap, like a dog trying to find a comfortable spot, I felt like I was preparing to sleep outdoors.
Time doesn't exist during naps, but as I was swirling to the top to awake, I felt a tugging at my hand. I don't normally sleep on my back, but on this occasion not only was I on my back but one of my arms was hanging off the side of the bed. At first I thought I was dreaming - perhaps my arm had fallen asleep and was beginning to twitch. But, the longer I swam to the surface of reality, I realized this was no twitch but a constant pressure. Just before I opened my eyes I felt two little hands pressed on my face and a little push of air in my ear.
Then a voice, "Daddy, are you dead yet?"
I grabbed Greta, who was then two years of age, and began to tickle her. Not only was I awake, but when I tickle the girls, I feel and remember that I am alive. Greta, although perhaps she wondered if I truly had perished in the middle of a blissful dream, was simply asking me if I was ready to play - to be alive with her.
There are many who walk through life as if asleep. Sometimes I am one of those - days take on a monotony; hours lull me into passivity. At certain times, I am simply unaware of what just happened. Startled out of a strange reverie, I have blinked and the whole world has changed. I open my eyes and I am married and have three children. I own my own house (kind of). My children continue to stretch inches every day, it seems. I spend minutes, hours and days at work and sometimes I wonder if I will ever get close to catching up (in some ways, I hope not). I am no longer an impetuous child, a boisterous teen, a rebellious twenty-something or whatever I was a few years ago. I have those memories; I import them everyday to help me function with the world, I mix them with the dreams of the future but now, now! I must live - in the present. I am not dead yet. I am alive! Have you ever stood on the bank of lake and screamed at the top of your lungs "I AM ALIVE!"?
Yeah, me neither - but it's about time I do that.
Question for you - are you dead yet? When you open your eyes tomorrow morning or after a pleasant nap, how will your life have changed? Is there a piece open for rejuvenation in your family life? Is there a spot to meditate on what God is doing in your life - how the Holy Spirit will help shape your decision making to allow you move. Life is about movement - not just physical but emotional and spiritual also. Is there a place where you can be happy in yourself?
Question: Are you dead yet? Not yet. Not yet.
Move.