for my body: confession # 2 {my grace is not sufficient}

Dear Body,

I wish I could make you well. I wish I could reach inside and set right the wrong things. I would soothe the sore places, infuse the tired places with new energy, destroy the dams that should never have been built. I would grab onto the good things you need and hang onto them for you until you were ready to receive them. I would mend what is ripped, I would remove those things that harm you, usher them out safely. I would give you what you craved but lacked. I would do it all.

But all I am permitted is to wait, hands tied.

You've spoken loudly in the past and while I couldn't understand what you said at first, you spoke at a decibel that could not be ignored; your sound reverberated through every cell. It took some time, but I learned how to hear and understand your words.

What I notice now is your profound silence; you speak in the tiniest whispers if at all. Perhaps you are finally hoarse with the shouting. I could not blame you. For a time I mistook this silence for wellness. Nothing was overtly wrong: no significant pain; there were no oozing sores or gaping wounds crying out for my attention. I was just tired, sapped. Sluggish. Who isn't? I was just missing cycles; hardly surprising given what you've endured these past two years.

It could have meant anything. It could have meant nothing.

But it meant something.

I went back to the naturopath, someone who trusts me and takes me seriously when I tell him: something's not right. Things are ... just ... off. Tests were ordered, blood taken. I found out how desperately you were lacking imporant vitamins, nutrition that is crucial, foundational for you. You had less than half of what you needed. Then I went back to my doctor for a regular check-up and told her some of these things too: tired. sluggish. missed cycles. More tests ordered. They took my blood again and told me the thyroid was still struggling, still slow. Still not producing enough, even after more than a year of daily remedies. Ultrasounds were ordered and revealed: polyps. cysts. Words I had heard but were never personal. Words that catch in my throat when I try to speak them.

You've been through so much; we've been through so much. I am eating well, taking my vitamins, exercising, getting sleep. I drink water, cleansing teas. I am mindful of you: listening, heeding your needs. And still, you are not well. You need things I cannot give: the ability to absorb, to produce, to release. It hurts me to know: I am not able.

My hands are tied. And so we move through the days together stilted and awkward, with a shortened step. And I wonder how long you have lacked and struggled. I wonder how -- or if -- you will ever fully recover. It makes me weep to know: it is not enough. for all my wishing and willing, I cannot make you well again.

There is nothing more I can do.

And so I will continue to do the things that lie within my abilities: I will eat well, drink water, sleep, take all the vitamins and supplements you need. I will keep listening, enlisting the support of those who are our advocates. I will put one foot in front of the other and I will breathe in and out. I will give you every good thing that lies within my power to give.

But the grace you require now is beyond my reach; the fulfillment of your needs lies beyond the boundaries of my ability. So we will sit together with hands open: able to surrender, able to receive, waiting patiently for something or for nothing: learning our limits and accepting them, and maybe learning grace yet again. Perhaps in the waiting, we will find that our hands are filled with something altogether unexpected and new.

... there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

The Apostle Paul, from the second letter to the Corinthian church

mood photo by kirsten.michelle

related post: for my body: {confession & reconciliation}