This Body...Revised

(This is the revised article of This Body.  To see the original post at Middle Places, go to http://middleplaces.com/2016/02/20/this-body/)

I am in this peculiar age of life.  I am no longer even near those twenty-something years.  And I have quite a few years before AARP comes knocking.  With the newlywed and baby years behind me and the retirement and grandbaby years way out in front of me, in the middle of these two places, I contemplate me.  My walk, my life, and unfortunately, my body.  This body is not what it used to be.  This body that has seen and held so much.

Like so many women I know, I have long struggled with body issues that provides great fodder for therapists.  I have stood naked in front of the mirror and felt disgust at the image glaring back at me, pointing out every scar and imperfection and wrinkle and roll.  I can no longer blame this on childhood experiences, I must now take responsibility for me.  I must look with fresh eyes.  To see.  To really see.  Not what others see.  Not what loved ones see.  Not the image that is compared, and ultimately fails to live up to societal and media standards.  But only to see.

To see what this body is…

And this morning, I woke up seeing it in a different light,  seeing it as this wonderful machine, full of grace and love and heartache and pain and ...LIFE.  So much life.

This body has created and held life in its womb for 3 years of its existence.  It has also seen death in that same womb and lived through it.

These breasts have sustained that little life, giving nourishment when at times it was too tired to give to its own nourishment.

These hands have held babies, so many babies.  These hands have wiped tears out of baby's’ eyes, others as well as her own baby.  Cradling babies as they have smiled for the first time, laughed for the first time.  These hands have tickled tiny feet and bellies.  These hands have pulled that wiggly tooth when the little hands just couldn’t.  These hands have stroked the hair out of a face to see the beauty of her child.  These hands have brushed hair and braided and straightened and fixed.  These hands have held little hands to provide security and comfort when crossing streets or going into school on that first day.  These hands have comforted during those teenage years, when no words could help.  These hands have pointed the way.  These hands have prepared so many meals, so many.
These hands have also prayed with her friends during times of loss and sorrow and rejoicing.  These hands have prayed for so many people.  These beautiful hands…

These feet ran when there was a child who had fallen, or had bad dreams, or needed me.  These feet have walked alongside a teetering child on his first bike ride.  These feet have kicked soccer balls and played kickball with giggling children.  These feet have paced the floor comforting a squalling child, or waiting on news from the doctor.  These feet have walked many trails in search of a glimpse of natures beauty. These beautiful feet…

These arms have been a resting place for many nights of sickness.  these arms have embraced when no words could comfort.  These arms have held babies on this hip, while cooking, walking, cleaning.  These arms have flailed in frustration. These arms have expressed love when no words could express the deep, deep affection.  These arms have pushed laughing children on swings.  These beautiful arms...

This belly has been a pillow so many nights when nothing else would do.

This lap has bounced babies and toddlers and held too big children with delight.

These eyes have cried tears. So many tears. Tears of sadness and joy, anger and frustration. The ones no one sees. Tears of pain. Tears of reconciliation. Tears of “I am screwing all of this up. I know I am.”  Tears of forgiveness. Tears of gratitude when hearing words of love.
These eyes beheld the joy stretching across her child’s face. These eyes locked gazes with the sweet baby at my breast. These eyes have looked into the eyes of her friend and have seen the pain she tries to hide.  These eyes have seen the beauty of a thousand amazing sunrises.  These beautiful eyes …



The beauty is this same body would do it all again for a thousand lifetimes.  It will pull itself out of bed in the morning, when it really doesn’t want to, doing it all again...and again...and again.  Embracing the imperfections it carries as a badge of honor, knowing that it has loved with every cell of its being.  It will see with amazement and newfound awe, and a renewed sense of gratitude at this life this body creates and lives.  It will honor itself in this journey of love and heartache and pain and joy.

This body...