Broken Bodies

Life is a balance act. Juggling time, commitments, expectations, and relationships is like the man on the street corner spinning one, two, three, four, five balls into the air. Faster and faster they spin, one wrong move and they all come tumbling down. A persons health is like that too. The difficult thing is you can't see the juggling act. It happens without knowing it is going on. Heart beating pulsing out blood. Lungs expanding drawing life giving oxygen into the body. Cells, tissues, organs transferring waste, regulating, keeping this fragile frame of a human being in balance. Alive. Sometimes like with certain types of cancer you have no idea anything is going wrong. It is a bit unnerving when you discover that the body is not in balance, not working as it should. I received a call yesterday late in the day from my oncology nurse. She said my blood results from earlier in the day came back. My white blood cell count is dangerously low. At that time in the treatment cycle my counts should be at least 500. Yesterday they were at 250. What? But I feel fine. I have energy. I look good. A bit tired but who would not be after a 13 hour work day. It is as if my body had betrayed me again. First the cancer now this. A white blood cell count as low as 250 places me in danger of infection. The simple common cold could send my fragile immune system into collapse. The nurse suggested not being around people. Good luck with that, I work in Human Resources. I train staff. I teach at a community college. Suggestions were to disinfect everything and wear a mask. I am not ready for a mask yet. I have prepared myself for hair loss, possible sterility, endless tests, being pierced in the chest to access a buried port under my skin, toxic chemicals slowly being injected into my body, nausea, rash, etc, but not a mask. My mind shudders with the thought. My heart screams.....but that will make me look like I am sick. What a stupid thought. I am sick! The mind is a fickle animal. It languishes in a state of denial even when there is no room to hide from the stark reality of life. I am not ready for a mask. I have emotionally faced cancer, at least the word, that dreaded term, the "C" word. I have obviously not completely processed the reality that I am sick. Or at least could become even more sick. Foolishness. Today I am a bit angry with my body. This cursed flesh that I have struggled with all my life. So I lift my hands to the heavens, to the architect of the skies. My Redeemer. Master surgeon of the heart. My God. I am in His hands. His will. His Plan. I rest here. I was drawn to the following scripture. It is good medicine for a broken body. Paul writes to the Corinthian church: " (1) For we know that when this tent we live in now is taken down-when we die and leave these bodies-we will have wonderful new bodies in heaven, homes that will be ours forevermore, made for us by God himself, and not by human hands. (2) How weary we grow of our present bodies. That is why we look forward eagerly to the day when we shall have heavenly bodies which we shall put on like new clothes. (3) For we shall not be merely spirits without bodies. (4) These earthly bodies make us groan and sigh, but we wouldn't like to think of dying and having no bodies at all. We want to slip into our new bodies so that these dying bodies will, as it were, be swallowed up by everlasting life. (5) This is what God has prepared for us and, as a guarantee, he has given us his Holy Spirit." 2 Corinthians 5:1-5.