Why you should love the body you have
Several weeks ago, Mr. Schrock and I escaped the confines of *The Three and took off a-runnin’ for a solid 12 days in paradise. Literally.
It was on a bright, sun-drenched island in the Caribbean that we honeymooned for a second time, leaving our cares behind, relaxing so thoroughly that I actually heard myself say, “What four boys? What mortgage?” It was heaven on earth.
Heaven, with clear, blue waters and white, white sand.
Anyway. It was right there on that scrap of land that the Holy Spirit alerted me to the movements of my heart. For sittin’ there with that endless parade of humanity, I found myself slidin’ to envy, to comparin’. Of myself to other women.
Oh, yuck.
When I drilled down beneath the surface, this is what I found. “It isn’t fair.” It was followed, then, by vague feelings of despair. “It isn’t fair, and it will never change.” For how I am made is something I cannot control.
Floatin’ in that clear, shadin’ to green, shadin’ to blue ocean water, I said, “Papa, talk to me.” And this is what He said.
“Maybe it isn’t about whether or not I’m fair…but whether or not I’m good.” Whoa. And hashtag boom! It’s always, I’ve found, “boomtime” with Him.
But He wasn’t finished. “So you get to be the judge of what is best?” I just love Him for the gentle way He speaks to me, even when it’s hard, unpleasant things.
“That makes you the judge of Me.” Man, Papa’s bringin’ it. He’s nailin’ me down, but with so much love and no condemnation. (This is why I can love Him; why I trust Him.)
I realized right there in warm ocean waters, powdery sand beneath my feet, that I had judged Him from my own very blurry perspective. Through my own clouded and foggy lens. That I had judged myself and the others around me from a perspective that was not His. And I repented.
It was on the heels of this lesson on envy that He taught me something else, and it helped me. When I would see a woman walking by who was younger, more curvaceous, unmarked by birthing and gravity, Truth would speak, and it sounded like this: “But her body didn’t give birth to my four sons. Her breasts didn’t nurture and sustain my four precious infants. Mine did. The body that Papa gave me is powerful. It’s brought forth life! My body has fulfilled its Designer’s intent.” And peace and joy would rain, gentle life-drops, on my heart.
Girls, let me tell you that God can use anything He wants, anytime He wants, in any place that He wants, to teach us what we need to know. To show us Who He is. For when we returned from the island, guess what He sent to further this work in my heart and mind?
One morning, as I was savoring my caramel-flavored coffee and the sunshine out on my beloved *BOS, I glanced up at our flowering bush…
And saw a hummingbird. It darted from one bloom to another, sipping nectar in morning’s light. For brief seconds, it hung, wings blurring, receiving food from Papa’s hand. Grace on the wing.
“I’m a hummingbird!” This glorious light dawned, and my heart went running to meet it. “I am not a peacock. I’m a hummingbird. I am small. I’m quick. I dart here, dart there. I live in a state of grace.” Grace, suspended on His wings.
Now, you. If you’ve been hatin’ yourself for the way that you look; hatin’ the way that you’re made, it’s time to stop. Time to stop envyin’ another. Time to stop judgin’ yourself, and judgin’ God.
It’s time to repent for insulting your Maker. It’s time to accept your own gift. Your own body.
If you are a peacock, embrace it. If you are a robin, that, too. Just as you would never dash to the floor a piece of pottery designed by clumsy, young hands, fashioned with love just for you, so you should not spit on His work. For you are HIS workmanship, He’s the Potter, you’re the clay.
Your body and mind and spirit and heart can birth life that no one else offers. Same is true for the girls that you’re hatin’.
Love the gift. Love the Giver. Love each other. That’s the cure.
If I can, I know you can, too.
Warmly,
Rhonda, who says that coffee is her particular nectar
*The Three – the three acres that have been home for four boys, two parents, umpteen wheels, a swing set, a tire swing, a horse swing, a picnic table, a trampoline, a fire pit, a large garden, and dog who was also a boy (hear me sigh)
*BOS – Bright Orange Swing