Monday, October 25, 2010

This Mama's Body

I complain to Chris about it. Some how I think it insults him, my constant worry over the softness this body has developed with the years.
I fuss to friends who join in the harassment of our bodies, bodies that have carried babies, that have rocked and held and nurtured life.
I worry to my doctor about the number on the scale remaining bigger than I like.

And I wonder how many more comments are going to be unnoticed by this little girl dancing in her underwear. When will I create a fear in her of the shape, size and function of her body. When will she say "I'm sorry I'm not as skinny (if one could ever call me skinny) as I once was."?

And I find that I am conspiring with the culture to make another girl, another woman, sorry for the body she has been given. That I am conspiring with the world to steal the beauty God has placed in her, because she is woman.

So in repentance, for the damage I have done to myself and the damage I have spoken into her life with my fussing, I count

::scars which brought forth life::
::strength to make a boy laugh while flying::
::swimming (of the Pilates kind) giggles::
::legs that carry us to water and leaves::
::arms to cuddle::
::softness to be cuddled into::
::hands to prepare nourishment::
::and to wipe tears::
::races run, puddles jumped in, tag played::
::seeing, hearing, smelling, touching, tasting, living::

Fearfully and wonderfully made.

Thank you, Mindi, for calling this to my attention.

holy experience


  1. Well, said, Sarah! Very well, said!
    Thank you.
    blessings and grace

  2. It's hard isn't it, not to criticize yourself? I keep having to remind myself that the extra fluff doesn't matter, and that God loves me for who I am inside. Thankfully Gwen straightened me out, and on the subject of my extra weight, my lips have been sealed . . .