The most dangerous woman on earth is the woman who has reckoned with her own death. All women die; few women ever really

live

.*

Finding out that you have a terminal illness is possibly the worst moment of a person's life, to be sitting there, on the edge of the doctor's hard plastic office chair and hear her say in a low voice, "I'm very sorry." In that moment, is it life that flashes before your eyes? Or is it death?-- death flashing before your eyes?

But why should she be so very sorry? You're dying. I'm dying. We're all dying. Forever walking toward the grave, though lifted up by life and living all along the way. . . . I know I don't have to wait for the sympathetic murmur of a physician for this. My death sentence came when I took my first breath, 26 years ago. Death will come. I know it will.

So now I am free. I am free to live

recklessly

. I can throw my life into other people, throw my life away for the poor or the proud or the mean or the hungry. I can be used up for the Gospel, poured out on the feet of the King, washed away by ridiculous acts of grace. I am free to be dangerous, a dangerous woman.

*John Eldredge's words: "The most dangerous man on earth is the man who has reckoned with his own death. All men die; few men ever really

live

." But I can't ever hope to be a dangerous man; I hope instead to be a very dangerous woman.

moves and removes