Our Human Bodies

My daughter (The Artsy One) has at times complained what a pain it is to have corporeal bodies.  I can see her point.

We have wrinkles and belly fat, not to mention love handles.  We live with sickness and disease, back aches and bad knees.  Not to mention food poisoning and other atrocities.  It often feels like our body systems are working against us rather than for us, and it is a rare and beautiful blessing to die in our sleep without pain; sadly, it doesn’t always happen that way.  A little deathbed morphine is not a bad thing.  But what a sad state we’d be in without these semi-functioning bodies of ours.

A baby snuggling against our bare skin – what joy and peace. Hugs and hand-holding with friends and families, and even people we’ve barely known for two minutes – basically strangers. The caress of a lover. Feeling beautiful or sexy in our own skin.  Sharing breakfast with a friend, or Thanksgiving around a table stretched to its fullest, with everyone crammed in.  Where would we be without feasting?  Without touching?

We wear our lives on our bodies, but you already know that. Smile lines and stretch marks from having our babies, or just from gaining and losing weight.  Our bodies might not be magazine-ready, but they are beautiful to those who know and love us, and who have lived with us through both the hard and the blissful times.  Can you image never feeling the wind in your hair as you stand on the beach? Yes, my body aches, but the pleasure of a long soak in an Epsom salt bath is lovely. The accomplishment – and fatigue – of heavy work (Yard work! Moving day!) or a good workout: as long as we’re not injured, it feels good to be utterly tired and to fall into bed for a good night’s sleep. And of course there is luscious chocolate.

Last night I had a dream (my dreams are mostly just weird) in which a man told me I had a great butt and breasts, and an ugly face – the last which I categorically reject.  I may not be classically beautiful, but my husband and kids and friends look at me and say that I am. I have my teeth.  My skin isn’t too wrinkly yet, particularly since I carry some extra weight and the fat fills out the wrinkles nicely. I still blush and bat my eyelashes at my husband. I laugh big and loud, and I love big and loud.  And my body - be it big or small, smelly or fresh, groomed or a mess – is how I do that. 

Of course there have to be awkward moments. When my body gurgles or makes other inappropriate noises. Or a bit of pee leaks because I’ve borne babies and laugh too hard (Yes I do Kagels and I've had the injections. Swimming really helps too). There was the time I was at the vet and realized my leggings were on backwards.  I asked for a couple of minutes in the room after the appointment; she looked at me questioningly and I explained.  She laughed and said she’d done that too. I love the laughter that comes with the awkwardness, and the comradery that we’re all living a little wacky.

Thanks be to God that he gives us real, beautiful, expressive, feeling bodies.  With them we experience joy and suffering, but isn’t that the stuff of life?

I will take the pain with the joy any day, and hopefully for many more years to come.  The bitterness makes the good moments all the sweeter. Frailty is the stuff of babies and grandparents and those who are suffering, and it is good to need to be gentle with others. But also to roughhouse and flop in the grass when we are younger.  I’ll take it all, because I'd rather be fully alive than a mere observer of all of this.

Today when your bones creak and your muscles ache, rejoice because you are living a life with a body that feels, and feeling is good.

Photo: UCLA Franklin D Murphy Sculpture Garden. Credit unknown. https://hammer.ucla.edu/collections/franklin-d-murphy-sculpture-garden