Monday, May 6, 2013

The Greatest Tool I Own.

I know it's been quiet on here. I can tell you exactly how long it's been quiet, because it is also exactly how long I've been in a battle with my body.

It's like when the electric windows in your car work every day, and then suddenly on a sub-zero day in January you can't get you driver-side window to go back up.  All you can think about is wanting that window to work again, because the wind whipping across your face is torture, and you suddenly begin to realize how you've been taking that working window for granted every day that it worked properly since you've had the car.  You didn't know how important it's successful function was until it stopped.

Or when your washing machine stops washing.
Or your refrigerator stops refrigerating.
Or when your electricity shuts off.

The things you take for granted, but need to work in order for your life to go smoothly - to go as planned.

I took my body for granted until this past week. It started out as a dull ache that I was sure was going to go away, and ended with me not being able to eat anything for days without wanting to curl up into a ball a shut out the world.  It consumed me. Then it one night it finally broke me as I sobbed in Dustin's arms as I promised to go to the doctor again in the morning.  I'm not the type of person that sobs in Dustin's arms very often.  And I didn't keep my promise, something that I still sort of regret, even as my body makes improvements.

My body has always been pretty good to me, but when it suddenly stops working it doesn't take long for a sense of desperation and helplessness to sneak in.

So I will start showing my body a little more respect.  A little more love.  A little more TLC - Because it really is the greatest tool I own. 

As I sit here moving slowly and gingerly between my laptop and flipping pancakes for my children, I hereby swear to thank God for my health every day that I have it. 
And the health of my husband who stands at this moment waiting to run his leg of a marathon.
And the health of my children who are switching between giggles and screams in the next room.

And, I will allow myself to sob in Dustin's arms more often, because it really is the best medicine.