The Post-Pregnant Body and Me

My body bear the marks of motherhood: pale skin, extra weight, dark circles under my eyes, and stretch marks. I miss my pre-pregnant body. I wonder, when will she return?  If she does, will she remember herself? Will she be more, less, or just the same self?

When I met my sister for a brief hour trip at the mall, she lamented she use to be an extra small.  I tell her, I use to be an extra small too!!

I whine to my husband, "see this belly, it use to be flat and you could see my muscle". He sheepishly smiles, "mine use to be too". He smiles at me as if he doesn't see this post-pregnant body. When my son smiles his toothless grin, he also doesn't see this post-pregnant body. My mother, on the other hand, is another matter.

It is just me (and my mother).  I want that body back, partly for practical reasons: it cost a fortune to replace a work wardrobe and partly for vanity and self-esteem - I like its strength and vitality.

But I won't wage war on this post-pregnant body. I won't declare it disgusting or obese.   This body is still me.  It has given birth and I will treat her gently, take her on walks, and when I have enough sleep I will once again do drills, long bike rides, and hikes.  This body is the only one I have and it houses the spirit of my being.

She will likely still have marks, indeed she may gain more throughout the years, but the marks are from carrying my son and he is beautiful to me.

The Nobodies: Powerlessness and Power

The nobodies have bodies, just unrecognized, ignored, and without a voice - powerless.  They are considered failures, addicts, shy, ugly, mentally ill, socially awkward,  stupid, diseased, and maybe even disabled. They are people that, for whatever reason, don't seem to fit into society.  Others don't want to claim them as friends or family. The only person who so vocally claims them as a friend is Jesus.

"Come to me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" Matt 11:28. He's the only one who wants these nobodies: prostitutes, tax collectors, widows, fishermen, the lame, and the ill - the rabble of his time.

Sometimes these nobodies gather in churches, but they are frequently ignored.  In a church full of God's people, of Christians who claim to follow Jesus, the nobodies are only somebodies to Jesus. Sometimes they quietly arrive just before the sermon starts and quickly leave just as it ends. I have seen this and sometimes I have been this. They awkwardly stand as if on an iceberg willing it to fall into the sea of mingling, happy faces, willing the conversation tide to flow towards them, yet fearing its waves crashing upon their anxious bodies: what will I say?  And in the turmoil of their minds, they feel the wall of difference rising like an iron curtain, covering their souls. Sometimes they commune with Jesus in whispers, in solitude, but not alone.  Unbeknownst to them, NEVER ALONE.

They believe they have no talent: without eloquent words, mild manners, or acceptable appearance or smell.  They believe because they are convinced by all the things they lack; they too see the vast difference between themselves and everyone else. The embarrassment of proper attire, speech, conduct, mannerisms, and the failure of their lives are as plain to them as it is to you and me.

So like Moses, they retreat into the desert with no-one to judge their inadequacies. Sometimes this desert is a scorching barren land of self-loathing and condemnation, a dangerous and horrible place  of torment.  Sometimes it is a place of quiet solitude with only one voice, the voice that matters most, God himself.

The church is full of broken people: some recognizing their need for a saviour; some wanting adoration; some just wanting to be apart of something; and others preying on the weak. There are wolves among the flock, but this is no surprise. The nobodies belong to this social organization, silent and hanging on the fringe just as they are in the rest of society. The churched may reach out in an effort to be polite, to demonstrate love, they will themselves to say hello, to recognize their humanity, if only for a moment. Inevitably though, they rush back into their busy lives, escaping from the desert of the nobodies. 

Only Jesus stays. Only he comforts. Only he understands so very well the life of the nobody. 

Today's Lists

It's 9:30AM.  I already have spit-up on my t-shirt; it was clean 10 minutes ago.

My list today consists of:

Phone calls

Laundry

Bills

Clean kitchen

Working with my son on his crawling. 

The list is long. My personal list today is:

Have some quiet time.

Eat healthy

Drink lots of water

God be in my day. God be my grace. If my list should not be checked, help me to start all  over again.