Breathing is Good

I never realized how beautiful it is to be able to breathe normally until last night, when I couldn't.
Maybe it was some sort of virus brewing since my first signs of a cough on Saturday. Maybe I overexerted myself doing something.
(In retrospect, maybe going iceskating wasn't such a good idea? Oh well, it was such a good time that I don't regret it.)
Whatever it was, I couldn't breathe last night without my lungs hurting like I'd stuck them in a freezer, where they were burning with the cold. It's one of the worst kinds of pains ever, because if you hold your breath, it hurts too in a different way, and you'll probably die. So you're in anguish every few seconds, either way.
It kept me up until roughly five in the morning. The most annoying part of not being able to sleep was that "Come Home" by OneRepublic was stuck in my head. The same song, all night. And my breathing didn't match with the rhythm. Gah.
I was only able to fall asleep when I deliberately pushed the song out of my head and replaced it with another. Or perhaps it wasn't exactly me who replaced it. I had been praying for much of the night--ranging from friends and family to babblings about my life, but by that time it had turned into a desperate repeating of God, I just want to stop hurting, stop the hurting, stop the hurting.
And it was this song that popped into my head:

My heart is filled with a thousand songs
Proclaiming the glories of Calvary
With every breath, Lord how I long
To sing of Jesus who died for me
Lord take me deeper into the glories of Calvary

I had to stop and think about that. With every breath? Is this perfect for my situation or what?
But...do I really long to sing of Jesus who died for me? When was the last time I longed to sing about this wonderful gift? When did I cease to be constantly amazed that the very Son of God would die for me?
My greatest problem has already been taken care of, when my sins were nailed to the cross with Him and were thus atoned for.

Sinners find eternal joy in the triumph of your wounds
By our Savior's crimson flow, holy wrath has been removed

What a miracle that I can even speak to God now, that He is my Father and listens to me.
I lay there thinking about the glories of Calvary, and though the pain in my lungs was still there, I didn't mind it as much. I finally slept with those thoughts on my heart.

I am mostly okay now. My breathing is good and doesn't hurt too much anymore. I don't, however, want to leave the sharp, clear view of the gospel that came with the pain.
A thousand songs I would sing.

And I really did want to sing, but I've lost my voice D: