A very dear friend just found out that she has skin cancer and will have surgery in two months or whenever the first available appointment opens up. Still in the post pregnancy recovery phase she learned this information shortly after delivering baby number 5. I wondered if she felt overwhelmed by this added complication or betrayed by her body.
My thoughts have turned and returned to how easily we take our bodies for granted. For the most part we expect them to function well, and for the most part they do, but, at some point everyone has to come to terms with the fact that our physical self is subject to failure.
I first came face to face with this during my third pregnancy. If you ask me now, I will tell you that I have four children. What I generally don’t mention is that I’ve been pregnant seven times. After my first two children were born I was expecting baby number three. During my 20 week ultrasound the radiologist could not find a heartbeat, the baby had died. My body, which I had assumed would continue to produce healthy offspring, had failed in its job and hadn’t even bothered to let me know. I felt betrayed and disconnected as the tiny child that had been a part of me was laid in my hand so I could say goodbye. Shouldn’t I have some control over what happens with my body? Shouldn’t I know when things aren’t going right?
About a year later I was again five months along in expecting another child when I awoke sobbing during the night from a dream. The dream was inconsequential but from it I knew that my body had failed again and that the child I was carrying had died. This time my body let me know. In my sorrow I cried out in prayer, seeking understanding as to why I needed to go through this experience once more. I knew the process, I knew the pain, I knew what I was going to have to do and I didn’t want to do it. Was there any way this trial could be removed from me?
The answers I received are sacred to me, a conversation between myself and God. The words of Christ, “Let me not shrink,” became significant as my understanding was enlightened about what Jesus meant. Let me not cower, resist, hide from this task. Let me not grow smaller or less significant by holding back what I have to offer. Let me not be afraid to face the difficult things my life will bring. Let me not give up. The Savior asked for strength to do what he needed to do. I pleaded for the same strength and for His strength and found respite from my sorrow in sleep.
The following morning I woke with a hymn in my mind. Although I couldn’t name the song it was a familiar tune and the words were clear and personal…
Fear not, I am with thee, Oh be not dismayed. For I am thy God and will still give thee aid. I’ll strengthen thee and help thee and cause thee to stand. Upheld by my omnipotent hand.
In every condition, in sickness, in health, in poverty’s vale or abounding in wealth. At home or abroad, on the land or the sea, as thy days may demand so thy succor shall be.
It took me several days to figure out the name of the song and to find it in our church hymnbook, but the message sustained me as I confirmed with the doctors what I already knew and went through the same heartbreaking processes and procedures to deliver another lost child.
Sooner or later we all face the fact that we have limited control over our bodies despite feelings of invincibility as a youth, and that our physical self is only a part of who we are. The list of possible bodily betrayals is almost infinite, baldness, losing vision or hearing, knees giving out, disease, injury, amputation, paralysis, reduced energy, weight gain, heart problems, diabetes, dry skin, zits, cancer, gastric reflux, sinus problems and on and on. The funny thing is that we always seem to be surprised when something goes wrong, as if our essential self still expects our bodies to match the vigor of our spirits, despite advancing years or physical neglect. Still, our bodies are what we have for the time being and ultimately the only thing we can offer for their untrustworthiness is forgiveness, because we need it.
As I continue to improve how I care for my body, especially being gentle with the hurt, damaged or failing parts, I find that healing occurs within me and throughout my life and words like ‘broken’ or ‘defective’ no longer seem accurate in my self talk. By embracing the gift of the totality of our lives, including problems, failures, illness, and sorrow, and by relying on God to make up for our lack, I believe that we can be now, more than ever, whole. A scripture I found recently sums up my hope — Therefore, dearly beloved… let us cheerfully do all things that lie in our power; and then may we stand still, with the utmost assurance, to see the salvation of God, and for his arm to be revealed. Doctrine & Covenants 123:17
