The Blessing of a Broken Body

This morning, I read I Corinthians 11:23-26 as I took communion by myself. (Today I used Ritz crackers and cranberry juice because I didn’t want to crack open a full bottle of red wine.) As usual, I broke the cracker in half, as I do with my wafers when I’m in a church setting. I know it’s just symbolism, but by breaking the wafer myself, I feel I am acknowledging the role I played in the suffering of the savior.

I know a little something about broken bodies. I am not at my healthiest. I have multiple systems in my body that are not functioning as they should be. My knee might give out at any given moment. I need new glasses, and those are just the things I’m comfortable enough to share. It’s been just a few years since my last emergency surgery, and I am always aware that it could happen again. My body might not be completely broken down, but it is headed that direction. Sadly, I had friends who didn’t even make it to adulthood, so I know it is a blessing to be able to be in my body, as frail as it, and to be in my right mind enough that I recognize it’s frailty.

I am so much more dependent on the Divine in times of my own weakness. I have never called out to God more earnestly than from a hospital bed, or on the floor which has far too often been the case. The only other times I have called on God with such fervor is in times of grief.

I knew today would be hard for me. For the last few years, I’ve been one of my mother’s caregivers. (Huge shout out to my aunt who has been the primary caregiver for the last couple of years, and to my little sister who has stepped up in a major way these last few months.) Anyway, we are preparing to move her to a nursing home because she needs more care than we can provide. In January, she caught COVID and she has never fully recovered. Watching a loved ones body break down doesn’t feel like a blessing at all. There have been tears, swear words, and some stuff I’m too embarrassed to even write.

I am grateful today, for my mother’s body even in its weakened state. I am grateful for feet that that tread paths so that my way might be easier. I am grateful for her kind and open heart. Though I didn’t inherit those traits, I benefit from them more times than I can count. I am grateful that I can use whatever strength I do have to help care for her in her time of need.

Dealing with my mom’s health issues has taught me to be patient and prayerful. It has reminded me that God’s grace is sufficient, that his mercy endures forever, and his truth endures to all generations. The blessing of a broken body is that even it can be used for the glory of God. So I will give thanks and do what I can while I can. I do so in service to the one whose body is broken before me, and in remembrance of the one whose body was broken for me, in hopes that I make them both proud.