Lent Newsletter Excerpt | A Reflection on Being a Body (Poem)
Written by Leanne Bandstra
Introduction to A Reflection on Being a Body
An onset of acute illness as a teenager left me with lasting chronic illness, characterized by a lot of pain and fatigue. Over the past couple decades different diagnoses were layered upon each other, and it’s taken a lot of hard emotional and spiritual work to come to an understanding that my body is not working against me, but rather trying to tell me something and keep me safe. A recent study of The Wisdom of Your Body by Hillary McBride with my book club forced me to confront a lot of what I continued to push to the side – that I am my body and my body is me. Poetry is one way that I am able to express myself and find healing in that expression. As we enter into Lent, may you find healing and wholeness in the knowledge that Christ became flesh, just as you are flesh, and that your body is good, because it is where you reside.
Complicated.
Relationships with our bodies are
complicated.
How do you love your home,
when all you seem to know
is pain,
a house on fire,
walls caving in?
You feel
limited.
A world that says
you’re too old
or too young
not pretty enough
not strong enough
you don’t fit in enough
to keep up with what
the world
demands.
So you try to change your body,
or push it aside.
Mind over matter.
Body doesn’t matter.
Strive for more
produce more
ignore the pleas
of a body
that needs
rest.
Where is the breaking point?
Because this is unsustainable
and ideals are unattainable.
And did you ever stop
to consider that
maybe
all your body wants
is to be
your
friend?
Breathe.
Start with the breath.
Inhale the mystery
spanning all of human history
of bodies
created
animated
by the One
who made
everything.
Delighting in humans,
He called us very good.
When did we lose the connection
that we are a reflection
of the Creator
who became flesh
and lived as humans do?
God, a Living,
Breathing
Body.
So,
run your hands through warm sand.
Eat foods that make your taste buds sing.
Dance wildly to music that fills your soul with laughter.
And,
cling to those you love.
Weep when sorrow overwhelms you.
Yell, stomp, and protest when it’s all too much to bear.
So,
delight,
rejoice,
revel,
in being here
alive.
And,
when you can’t,
(because sometimes you can’t)
then simply
keep breathing,
being,
bearing witness
to all that it means
to be at home
in a
body.