If you read my recent post about how cancer has recently touched my family a second time, you know why my giving thanks for health is so important.
However, if I’m completely honest, I’m not always shouting out my thanks for my body and my health. More often, I can be heard grumbling about the backaches while picking up toys from the floor, the joint pain from knees that creek while climbing stairs, and the newly found gray hairs (seriously, where did those come from?!) sprouting from the crown of my head. We won’t even touch on the weight creeping up, the need for reading glasses, and the insomnia that comes and goes.
Truthfully, there are days I wonder what the plus is for aging another year!
Then, I hear my daughter giggle or watch her ride her bike, and I am reminded how absolutely blessed I am to be healthy. When I think of my pregnancy, I am abundantly grateful for what my body accomplished, and all the things I struggle with seem secondary to the fact that I have given birth to such a precious gift.
No, my body hasn’t returned to its pre-baby shape, but having a crooked belly button is like my badge of honor. I was an older, first-time mom, and every time I look at my beautiful daughter, see her smile, and witness her kindness, I give thanks that I was able to carry her almost to term and bring her into the world, healthy and whole.
I am thankful for the bones that make up the skeleton of my body. When I was five, I broke my collar bone on the school playground. I had decided that I was invincible and was trying to show a little boy I could hang from the monkey bars without hands…but, I forgot to lock my feet, so the ground and I had a quick meeting. The ground won its position. I was in a sling for 6-8 weeks. The miracle of how bones heal was a lesson in cause and effect for my young mind.
I am thankful for my skin, all its freckles and its wrinkles. When I was four, I ran across a church stage to get a piece of gum from my Dad, who was playing his trumpet at a holiday dress rehearsal. I tripped on a piece of rug and my forehead decided to greet the corner of the piano with a forceful hello. To this day, I hate needles from the memory of them stitching my head, awake and screaming. However, my six stitches are a reminder to me of how God gave us a covering that can be mended, and the remaining scar is a story I can share with my child about God’s amazing healing power.
I am thankful for every breath I take each new morning. I am thankful for each step I can take chasing after my daughter. I am thankful for hands that can cook Thanksgiving dinner for my family. I am thankful for ears that can enjoy my favorite jazz music. I am thankful for my eyes, though aging, that can enjoy my favorite pastime of reading. I am thankful for a tongue that can taste my favorite icy, cold beverage on a hot, summer day. I am thankful for the naturally, curly hair that people identify me with, and that I can wear in a variety of creative ways.
God created this body, my body, in His image. And, while I may not like all its parts, and I may struggle with specific pieces, ultimately He created me as He wants me to be. He knows every hair, every wrinkle, every pore, every blood vessel. He made me, and I thank Him for residing in this physical temple he made just for me.
I am definitely thankful to my Creator every day for blessing me with life and health.