I enjoy “March Madness,” following my favorite basketball teams to whatever heights they can reach. I’m in awe of the physicality of these athletes, of being able to tell their bodies what to do in a nanosecond and the body obeys!
I can only imagine being able to leap after a hard pass and that miraculous collaboration of the whole body with itself, the confident certainty and corresponding amazement when you know that your shot is going just where you intended.
My grandchildren are all ridiculous athletes and I’m giddily proud of their collective prowess. They certainly didn’t get that piece of DNA from me! Nevertheless, I marvel at their abilities. My oldest granddaughter is a crazy good softball pitcher. Just last week, she pitched a no-hitter and her team won the game 19 to 0 against a large metropolitan school a lot bigger than hers.
When she was a little girl, in the beginning of her softball playing, I asked her a question. “What is your favorite part of pitching?”
She paused, concentrating, then responded with assurance. “I can tell my body what to do and it does it!”
What a phenomenal celebratory concept! I’ve thought about our exchange many times through the years as I battle the physical challenges of a chronic illness. All this to say, that I want to talk about the blessing of physical uniqueness and the holy sacrament that is mediated through it. We spend so much time beating up on our bodies’ limitations that we forget that they are the exquisite vehicles of our souls.
Let that thought find a soft spot to land in your meditations. I love my physical life, its sensibilities and all its implications. It’s taken me a long, long time to settle into this outlook. Celebrate, don’t denigrate your particular physicalness!
How will you celebrate your physical self today?
You knew me thoroughly; my bones were not hidden from you, when I was made in secret and sewed together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw me when I was inside the womb.