My blessed body (a new adventure)

35 years  and two weeks ago I was given a very special gift. I was given the gift of a physical body. My *patriarchal blessing tells me that I shouted for joy at the prospect of receiving a physical body. When I first heard that as an almost 15 year-old girl, I remember being surprised that I shouted for joy. Joy? Really? Over something so trivial as a physical body? You see I was never really that into my body. I think I have felt like my body was something to be ashamed of, something that weighed me down and held me back. I had never really seen it as a blessing. I would say that I have always seen myself as a very spiritual person. I am not saying that I have always been in tune or made perfect choices. I have always known though, that I have a Father in Heaven that created me. He created all of me.

My coming into this world was met with a lot of excitement from my family. I was the first girl after 4 boys. For my 35^th birthday my mom sent me some memories of my birth, I would like to share part of her writings.

“When you were born Tiffany, our whole world rejoiced. I didn’t believe I would ever get a little girl after four little boys, so I prepared myself by planning for another boy, and even though we would have been pleased with another boy, it seemed unbelievable to have a little girl. The delivery room was silent as you were born—everyone knew this mom had four boys and the suspense produced almost a breathless silence. As you entered this life, the doctor said something like, ‘will you look at that!’ I said, ‘What is it?’ No one answered. ‘What is it?’ I asked again. No comment. I looked up at Dad and he was crying. The silence continued. Finally Dad choked out, ‘it’s a little girl.’ Of course it was hard to believe, but a new, joyful adventure had commenced.”

Oh my goodness! My little Amelia does look like me!

Soon after the joy there was worry and angst. I got very ill. I had a really high fever without an explanation as to why. The doctors kept me at the hospital to run a bunch of tests. One of these tests was a painful spinal tap. They wouldn’t allow my parents to be in the room—sending them away to walk the halls. My mom writes, “My anxiety level was high, but there was a little relief when no abnormalities were found. However, they insisted on keeping you a couple of days in the hospital and wouldn’t allow me to spend the night, so I got up in the middle of the night at least once each night and drove to the hospital so I could nurse you. I spent much of those couple of days going back and forth to the hospital to feed and cuddle you, and I spent much time on my knees pleading with the Lord to ‘please make her better.’”   It was after my mother submitted her will to the Father, my condition improved. I love this line from her memoir, “What was His plan for her? Could it be different than mine?”

As I read this, I was struck with the thought—“What is His plan for me? Could it be different than mine?” I am sure that most of us, which believe in God, have had this thought 1,000 times. What is His plan for me? How is it different than my own? I believe God has a plan for me, and it is much different than the plan I had had for myself.

Right now I know that part of His plan is for me to learn how to take care of, and heal my physical body. There is a lot for me to learn as I have never been one that even took much thought about my body. Honestly, it has only ever been a source of shame and embarrassment. Maybe it was my rough introduction to a physical body. Maybe somehow when I got sick as a new infant, I somehow was turned off to the whole pain and suffering aspect and it caused me to be turned off to the whole physical body experience in general.

I had never appreciated all of the amazing things my physical body can do. I have had many experiences lately that have helped me to realize that I have been approaching my health problems the wrong way. Taking care of myself has always felt like a punishment. Yet, in reality, it is an amazing blessing. Having a physical body—no matter the shape and the limitations is a blessing. It isn’t God that teaches me to hate my body—it is the one “person” that can never have one—Satan.

So I am approaching this from a new angle—one of gratitude. President Howard W. Hunter said, “Happiness is found along the way of this journey.” I am also not trying really hard not to be ashamed or embarrassed. That is one of the reasons why I have chosen to share this journey with “the world” via my blog. Another reason is that I am hoping to get help and encouragement from my support group. But most of all, I am also hoping that sharing my healing, epiphanies, and struggles will help others. Not only those that suffer from body hatred, but I am hoping that others will liken my circumstances unto theirs and glean hope and encouragement. I try to write with the Spirit and I know that Spirit can help us all in our unique trials. So if I say something that strikes a chord, please share it! 

(I wrote this weeks ago. I have been so scared to committing to share this journey. Every day I get an impression that I need to start sharing this journey. Every day I chicken out. I promised myself that today would be the day. So folks . . . here it is! My first post in my new series—My blessed body)

*check out the Latter-day Lingo page for definitions for any words that may be unfamiliar.