why I love my body

[background:  reading Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts and being challenged to cultivate gratitude not just for life's warm fuzzies, but also for the very things that frustrate and disgruntle me.  Therefore, this post.]

I love my body ...

… because God made it, and what he makes is good.

… because my Farmer loves it.

… because four of the people I love most in the world have been nourished and given birth to by this body.

… for the hugs and smiles it can give to my children.

… because my “babies” need it, like a mother ship to which they return with regularity.

… for the interesting thoughts its brain can think.

… for the food that satisfies my family, made by these hands.

… because these arms have carried and comforted my little ones (not to mention given my Farmer a good run for his money, so he says, at arm-wrestling).

… for the bottoms wiped, knots untied, noses blown, toys mended, and tears dried by these fingers.

… for the songs this voice can sing.

… for these eyes that see so much, and take it in.

… for ears to hear the laughter, and the cries.

… for the strength in these legs, to walk, and walk, and walk – in the woods with my Farmer, at a park with my children, or in labor awaiting delivery.

… because without it, what would my soul wear?