I've been thinking about my body lately. Which, to be honest, feels a little strange to admit.
The past two years, and especially this past year, have been so darn physical. The process of having a baby and nurturing a baby, at times, made me feel like all I was, was a body. It was a huge adjustment from living as missionaries in Uganda. My life had direct purpose in Uganda. I used my brain to teach students every day. I seemed to be an active player; it was easy to explain how my role fit in the unfurling of God's kingdom. We wrote newsletters, for goodness' sake!
I remember lying in the bath in the weeks after Hudson's birth feeling like I'd been put on a shelf. I seemed to be on a time-out from real purpose, real work. I was on a treadmill of bodily functions -- his and mine -- and it felt like I was consumed by it all. I had to fight with my mind, tear it off of the topics of milk supply and baby eczema and how many dirty diapers a newborn should have in a day. I would rip it away from these things it clung to like Velcro, and turn it in the direction of God. Okay, five minutes in prayer rattling off about things I feel like have nothing to do with me, then back to devouring baby books.
Lying in the bath that day, I felt God remind me of His love for me. His delight in me, His joy in my joy, His love not tied to a list of things I have "accomplished" in a day. Then I felt him gently reprimand me.
You see this journey of motherhood as separate from Me, as in competition with "spiritual matters." Who do you think created it?
Hm, good point. I began to see the two as connected. I began to turn the one in the direction of the other. My challenges and questions became things I could actually pray about it. New things I learned about my body and my baby's body could be directed into praise to our Creator.
A few things brought this all to mind again lately. Reading a book where the author talks about how yoga helped her reconcile herself to her body, helped her to heal after being ravaged by bulimia and a warped view of sexuality. Listening to a message this morning about God's definition of beauty compared to this world's. Reading a Time article last night -- "The Goddess Myth" -- criticizing this earthy ideal that mothers are being held to. The writer claimed that the pressure to embrace natural childbirth and breastfeeding is hurting mothers. I don't want to add to that pressure or paint a fantasy. A lot of days, being a new mom is boring and repetitive. Other days it's really hard. But, having said that, I have been caught by the beauty in this process. Surrendering to the processes of pregnancy, normal infant development, breastfeeding ... It has freed me to find joy in this season. Becoming more attached to my baby, not less attached, has been the best thing for my postpartum mental health. My body has taught me a lot in the past year, and even though it looks different than it once did, I love it more than I ever have.
I had always thought of that verse, about our bodies being temples of the Holy Spirit, to mean that our bodies house the Holy Spirit. But today, I'm thinking about the way temples around the world have been built. Every little bit of architecture, every bit of the design, has meaning. Sweeping, majestic cathedrals are meant to stir you to worship. As Christians, our bodies not only house the Holy Spirit; they also give us endless material to be freshly awed by the imprint of our Creator.
This body
I'm seeing it in a new light
Holding it out
Separate from me.
This time I don't see
All the things that I would change
All the things that don't match
The girls in the magazines.
This time I'm looking with awe
Wonder
Gratitude at this design.
This body, at this season,
Is the
Centre of my home.
Everyone circles around it
This body hold us
Together.
My husband desires this body
Returns to this body
It keeps us close.
My baby needs this body
Nourished by this bdy
It binds us close.
These arms,
These hands,
These breasts,
This warmth
Are the comfort
The solace
Of my family.
Before words could be understood,
Before smiles could be shared,
This body was my son's
First definition
Of love.
This body moves to rhythms I can't understand.
This body creates
This body grows
This family
Shaped by
This body.
At the steps of this temple
I worship.
This body is beautiful.
October 2017
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