She woke up and realized that there was no life left in her. It had happened gradually and she hadn’t noticed until now. She wasn’t really dead -- at least in the physical sense of that word. Her heart was still pumping blood through her veins and breath was still flowing in and out of her lungs. But something important inside her had died and she could no longer really count herself among the living.

How in heaven’s name had it come to this? Well, OK, she had to admit that whatever was going on had certainly not happened “in heaven’s name.” But how had it happened? Her thoughts drifted back over the past few months and then the past few years and then back over her entire life. And slowly things began to come into focus. What was the phrase she had heard -- the little deaths we experience in the course of our living. That is what this felt like -- the little deaths of her life had been piling up until finally she found herself laying here feeling dead.

As she reflected on this list of “little deaths” she became aware that she wasn’t trying to feel sorry for herself and she wasn’t trying to blame anyone. They were the things that happen in life -- not just to her but to everyone. But this particular list had happened to her and they had taken their toll on her spirit. Each time a little piece of her had died, there was that much less of her to carry on with the business of living. It wasn’t anything visible from the outside. Her family and friends would be surprised to discover that she was having this experience. She was surprised herself. She had never thought about the need to deal with such things at the time -- you just pick yourself up and go on with life. At least that’s what she had always told herself. But now what was she supposed to do -- she had no life left to pick up.

And so she lay there and cataloged the journey which had led her to this moment -- the history of her own personal little deaths. There had been the divorce, of course. Though almost 10 years in the past now, it certainly had to be counted among the significant losses in her life. So much of herself had been tied up in that relationship -- so many of her hopes and dreams. It had taken a long time to even begin seeing light and color in the world again. How much of her had died during that time? And there were the actual deaths which had occurred as well -- her parents; her friends who had been struck down by cancer, heart attack, AIDS; her brother in that senseless car accident. Looking back on it now, she could see that with each death a part of her had died as well. And there was more. It wasn’t just the big events like divorce and death. It was the “little” things as well. There were the small betrayals which happened along the way. Just last week she had overheard her friend at work gossiping about her. She had told herself it was no big deal, but a little piece of trust had died. How often had that happened over the years? There was her physical condition. She was in pretty good shape for the most part -- but the nagging twinges of arthritis were beginning to keep her from the things she had always enjoyed. Her image of herself as a healthy, active person no longer matched reality. And another piece of her died. Then there was her job. How long had it been since she had really enjoyed it? When had she started to feel so trapped? She was spending 40 hours a week going through the motions, but her heart wasn’t in it anymore. And the list went on and on. Some things were “big” and some were “small,” but when combined together all these “little deaths” had drained the life out of her just as surely as if she’d actually died.

She found herself thinking about the story of the prodigal son. Church had always been central in her life, so biblical images often helped to shape the ways in which she thought about life. The prodigal had come to his senses in that far off country only to realize that his life was over. For all intents and purposes he was dead. That’s what she felt like now. And then, as her mind wandered and pondered, she caught a glimpse of light in her darkness. At first she didn’t even recognize it for what it was, but slowly she discovered that the light was growing. It started as she thought back to the previous Sunday at church. It had been Easter, with all the grandeur which that celebration brings -- wonderful music, extra people, and the message of resurrection. God’s gift of new life. That’s how she understood resurrection. It was something she had always believed and, to her surprise, found that she believed even now. Of course God would give us new life. But she realized that for her resurrection had always been about what happens when we die -- when our heart stops beating and our breathing ceases. Then God raises us to new life in heaven -- whatever that means and whatever that looks like. But what if there is more to it? What if God’s gift of new life is also for the “little deaths” we experience while we are still breathing? What if resurrection isn’t just for later, but is also for right here and right now? What if she didn’t have to stay dead? And that’s when the poem popped into her head. She couldn’t remember where or when she had heard it, but it certainly seemed to hold the message she needed to hear.

What was it she had read in Robert Capon’s book? She couldn’t remember exactly, but the gist of it had been that there was only one condition attached to God’s gift of resurrection -- it only works on dead people. To receive God’s gift, you simply have to admit you are dead. Well, she definitely qualified.

And so began her journey out of darkness and back to the light. It didn’t happen all at once. Indeed, there would be lots of times when it seemed painfully slow. In many ways nothing changed. All of the past events remained. And there were still new “little deaths” to be experienced along the way. But in some deep and significant way which she found difficult to describe, everything changed. She came to recognize a new truth -- a different way of perceiving life. Just as death at the end of life was not the final word, neither were the “little deaths” along the way. They were painful. Sometimes they were life-changing. But they no longer held the power to leave her life-less. How could she stay dead when the God of all life was all around her and, indeed, within her, surrounding her with such abundant and wonderful gifts. There were the gifts she could point to -- family and friends who, though flawed in their own ways, loved her and cared about her; a world filled with beauty; a body which, though less than completely healthy, could still accomplish a great deal; the church where she could fellowship and worship and serve. And there was the gift she could not point to so easily, but could experience nonetheless -- God’s spirit of life flowing through her just as surely as the blood in her veins. Death was still there and she would still experience it -- in little ways everyday and in the not-so-little way at the end of her days. But now she understood that God would not leave her dead -- not now, not later, not ever. She could live with that. She found herself smiling as she climbed out of bed into the new day. Jesus is here and he wants to resurrect somebody!