Blog : Give Me Grace

Or didn’t you realize that your body is a sacred place, the place of the Holy Spirit? Don’t you see that you can’t live however you please, squandering what God paid such a high price for? The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body.

1 Corinthians 6:19 The Message

“A violinist had a violin, a painter his palette. All I had was myself. I was the instrument that I must care for.” 

― Josephine Baker

“Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the LORD.” – Psalm 31:24

She was the most beautiful thing on 125th Street that morning. Before the street came alive with every activity, I watched her walk from one avenue to the next, to the next. She seemed tired at first, her head held low draped in a black veil and tunic, the frayed edges of a tattered scapular, giving away perhaps, her many years of service. She was a nun. Accepting the help of a cane sometimes graciously, other times begrudgingly, she made her way from west to east. Her body told a story of a woman not ready to give up. She was, like I’ve said, the most beautiful and encouraging sight. I imagined her life of faith in the steps she took. I could see – her God was real.

I didn’t get her name. But I told her so.

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I love running. Well let me backtrack a minute. I love how running makes me feel. I never thought I would. I am the anti-runner. I loathe the track but I’m entering my 3rd week of training for a 5k with C25k.  It’s hard to believe, even for me,  but I love it and look forward to it – mostly because it’s producing the results I want.

It’s my way of mixing this aging process up. Trying new things to keep my body and mind motivated to move.

I hear my 10th grade math teacher firm and clear “do what you have to do so you can do what you want to do.” She gazed pointedly but patiently in my direction after sharing with my mother the news of my dismal performance that semester.  The message was clear …. Just do it.

I wanted to spend my days dancing but a recent increase in classes at the studio produced a C in geometry. Something had to give. If I wanted different results, I’d have to do things differently.

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I’ve always been happy in my head. It’s why physical expressions like ballet and yoga appeal to me.  Writing takes me there, but for long periods of time with no physical activity. Often I’m seated in my minivan during alternate side street parking in NYC, or on a bench in a cold rink. Other times I’m laid low in the cushions of our loved well couch… late into the night. Writing has been wonderful – a beautiful way to express myself. But it’s encouraged a more sedentary lifestyle.

I struggle with this. Aging is all well and good but I want to do it gracefully.

I’ve given every excuse for not getting up, not doing something about the gradual sense of soul creeping relinquishment pursuing me.

“I’m getting older.” “I don’t have time.” “It won’t work.”  “I don’t want to work that hard.” “My bodies been through enough, surely there’s grace for my ever-expanding mommy love parts.”

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On my run the other day I had a talk with myself about getting older. I thought about my body’s response to time, the difference between aging and being/living old.  What does/will it look like on me?

Getting old means giving up, letting go. A heart softened, atrophied from lack of courageous use.  It’s wondering what’s the point of trying. Getting comfortable in that . It’s quitting. It’s settling in to a recycled response, to every question or thought of trying – “Why bother?” It’s being fearful of tangible, undeniable changes. It’s losing my imagination, my body as a useful tool and temple. It’s the opposite of courage. It’s thinking I can’t and forgetting to try. Getting old is becoming fearful. Getting old means losing hope. There’s a world of difference between aging and getting old.

Hope is remaking myself every day. It’s the gentle dance of walking and running. Pacing myself in the in-between. It’s the glory of an exhale. It’s surrendering to the healing work of recovery.

I can’t help viewing this from a dancers perspective. Our bodies physical expression and manifestation are specific creative realities of a very purposeful God.  Design ,technique, form and function, economy, reconstruction, reproduction, restoration, repetition . Do it. Do it again. Do it differently. Do it.

For now it’s getting my run in – 3 days a week, and late night improv sessions to music from Listener, it’s different – hard edged and holy – I like it. (thanks for introducing me to new music Erika Morrison).

Celebrate the power of your temple. Celebrate the freedom of the gospel, His word and spirit – living in you.

We have every reason to try. Moving well through every season helps us release regret over things we’ve lost and find hope in a future filled with grace.

It’s never too late to try. Faithful people believe. It is worth trying … to strengthen and protect the gentle things inside, to turn our thinking upside down with the imaginings and possibility of a flower, to watch for hope in a garden, to pour faith in the walls of a crumbling building. The real world value of replacing a roof is encouraging. Most things can be made new or improved … particularly our faith in the process.

Here’s to aging well.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

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