Friends, its been a difficult week here in Texas and I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge what our bodies have been through. If you also are in Texas, I hope this finds you well and with things beginning to look like normal. If you’re not, know that whether we lost power or not, this week was hard. So hard. And we ask that you keep us in your prayers as we put things back together.
My family was lucky. We never lost power and the worst thing we dealt with was Austin’s truck getting stuck at the bottom of our icy road and one frozen water line. But so many had such a hard week, and are still recovering. We all felt vulnerable and frayed.
I realized as the sun came out and we thawed and we hunted for groceries and we rationed water that my body was telling me something and I needed to listen.
Listening to my body does not come easy. Purity culture taught me that my body was suspect and my feelings weren’t trustworthy. But God doesn’t ask us not to be human.
At the end of a stressful week where our bodily security was our main concern, I listened to and trusted what my body was telling me. She told me that I had held tension in so many places in my body, almost holding my breath all week. She told me that I had spent the week consumed with getting information on how to get through this, what to do if different things happened, and making sure my people were okay. I was distant from my body. She wanted me to come back.
I made bread.
I chose to knead the dough with my hands because I wanted to feel it. Each push and roll settling me back into my body, my hands grounding me back to myself. While it rose, I went outside. Felt the warm sun through my jacket and cold wind on my face, slushed through melting snow on the road and listened to birds and found that my body had tears to let go of. My first instinct was to push it aside, we were fine, what did I have to cry about? I should be thankful. But instead I listened to my body. I walked as far as she wanted to walk, as fast as she wanted to go. The mailman and I exchanged big smiles, both glad to be through the storm.
I came back home greeted by the warm scent of bread baking. I pulled it out of the oven, sliced into it, slathered it with butter and my family and I ate, reminded of who and where we are, reminded of the Supper we share when we gather as a Body. I’m here.
God cares about our bodies. God cares that we care for each other’s bodies, even the tiny body, a robin, my girls and I rescued from the snow during the storm. We gave it food and a warm place to rest and watched her fly away the next day, revived - alive - because we cared for her body. Is this not the Body in all it’s fragile mortal glory?
We are bodily creatures with bodily needs and God cares about it all. I think our job is to care too. So much of embodying the Gospel means caring for bodies. Sometimes a winter storm reminds you exactly how much care we really do need.
Take care of yourself today.
First, if you are in Texas, are you okay? I hope this finds you well on your way back to normal. Take a moment to listen to your body. What is your body holding after this week (let’s face it, after this year)? How might you engage your senses to settle yourself back into your body? How might you begin to listen to your body? Listen to this prayer from my friend Morgan.