This morning, one thought led to another. I heard the phrase, “Choose the hill you want to die on.” And it made me wonder: Is this really my hill? Some hills we choose. Some hills we inherit. And just because we inherited a hill doesn't mean we have to spend the rest of our lives standing on it. Then came another thought: Who says there is only one hill? Perhaps we don't just get to choose our hills. Perhaps we get to learn to live in the whole landscape. There are hills for perspective — but climbing them can be hard. There are valleys for restoration — but valleys can also feel dark and isolating. There are ridges for decisions — places where we can see different directions, but choosing can be uncomfortable. And there are paths for movement — sometimes exciting, sometimes rocky, sometimes slow, sometimes uncertain. None of these is entirely good or bad. Every part of the landscape carries both challenge and gift. And perhaps that's part of learning to build a life we love. Not creating a life without difficulty. Not trying to stay permanently on the highest hill. Not interpreting every valley as failure. Not believing that standing still means we're stuck. But becoming aware enough to experience the whole landscape. It reminded me of Psalm 18: “He brought me into a spacious place.” Maybe spaciousness isn't the absence of difficulty. Maybe it's the ability to see more than the one place we're currently standing. To gain perspective on the hill. To rest in the valley. To discern on the ridge. To keep walking the path. And to remember that no single part of the landscape is the whole of our life. Perhaps the question isn't: “Which hill am I willing to die on?” Perhaps it's: “What is worth standing for — and am I aware enough to keep living while I do?” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- @Surina Joubert This train of thought was ignited by your phrase: "Build the live you love...."