Yay for bodies!

I have been blessed with a body. Sure I have frizzy hair that has a frightening resemblance to a dishwater-colored bush, skin that somehow manages to be both oily and dry, short stubby legs, a rather unfortunate mole right on my chin, scrawny stick arms, and hind-quarters that are awkwardly out of proportion to the rest of my body, but still I am grateful for my body. I love the way it moves--the perfect symmetry of ambulation, the glide of tendons and skin over swollen knuckles, and the continuous swell and deflation of lungs 8 to 20 times per minute of every day. I love the tension of a stretch and the ache of a workout. I love the freedom to get from one place to another without setup or facilitation, the confidence of balance and stability that I don't have to even think about. I love the feeling of the world passing on either side as I run or swim or dance or walk or skip or spin toward my future. The healthy human heart pumps nearly 700,000 gallons of blood per year, the average kidney filters 45 gallons a day, the average 80 year old has walked a total of 108,131 miles--that's equal to walking around the equator 4.3 times. Those are amazing numbers! The human body really is an amazing gift and while I don't always treasure or even appreciate mine, I am certainly grateful for it. 

I work every day with people whose bodies don't work quite like mine. They don't have the ability to pump 700,000 gallons of blood a year or walk with symmetry and safety, they lack the freedom to move their body smoothly and easily from one place to another and often lack the confidence to try. I work with people in constant pain and with limited abilities, people who have to work much harder and still have less success to do the same things I do. When surrounded by a background like this how can I be anything but grateful and awed by God's gift of a mortal body and even more grateful for the impending resurrection when we will all walk and move and succeed together? I think too, as part of being grateful and as part of being cautions that I can maintain my freedom, symmetry, and safety I will continue to move--to dance and play and work and run and smile and stretch and contract. I want to get every one of my 108,131 miles in after all.