“I love you so much that I would die for you.” I caught myself thinking this about my wife and kids a couple of months ago. I imagined having to jump on a grenade or take down a home invader or catch a bullet at a robbery. Could I actually do it if push came to shove? I hope so. That’s the type of husband, father, and man I want to be. As I’m thinking about dying to protect the people I love most, I had another thought: “Aidan, would you die 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 for them?” That answer, perhaps surprisingly, felt harder to answer. What does that mean, to die to yourself? It means sacrificing something. It means not getting your way. It means voluntarily making life more difficult or more stressful or more busy or less happy. It means making yourself NOT the centre of your world. It means giving up your pride. It might mean embarrassing yourself. It means there is a cost you must pay. The more I turned over the idea of dying for someone, the more I realized that, in some ways, giving up your life in an instant may actually be easier. See, that’s just an isolated, single heroic act. But dying to yourself for others? That’s a thing you do over and over. It’s a pattern. It is not one death, it is many deaths. It is a voluntarily, willful giving up of yourself. It is a day-in and day-out thing that most people won’t notice. You might get written up in the newspaper for dying for someone, but fewer people may ever see you dying to yourself for someone else. As this idea has permeated my thoughts, I sketched it out and contemplated it further. I’m still exploring what it means; still fumbling doing it. But I’ll keep trying. Every day, I hope to honestly say I am dying to my old way of doing things. I am choosing to die to myself for the sake of those dearest to me.