What is it that us humans so easily forget about our
mortality? We strive to push harder, become
stronger, build higher, and achieve greater excellence. These are the power words we want to flourish
our resumes with. We try to defy the hours
of the day by minimizing sleep and maximizing our caffeine consumption. We think that if we can just ignore these
signs of being flesh and blood that daily grows older and weaker and more
vulnerable, perhaps we will beat the odds.
But the odds are 0. We are born,
we live, we die. These bones will not
defy death.
Now you may ask, why such pessism? Should we not embrace the life that we
have? Absolutely. But I am reminded in these moments that we
can not fully embrace life without countering it with death. It is in these moments that my back aches
from a knot that spontaneously appeared.
Last week it was right low back, today it is my left shoulder. I am training for this feat of
accomplishment: a 30 KM run around the lake in the mountainous trails. It is arduous, but I am committed. I will
do this. And then my body reminds me, I
am flesh and blood and I am innately a weak and vulnerable being. I am 30 years old; young, but not that young
guess what? I’m getting older every day.
Which means it is likely that these sorts of ailments will only become
more frequent. I try to be healthy and I
stay fit; but that only goes so far.
Yesterday I could not even lift my daughter. My daughter who I painfully and beautifully
gave birth too in the most incredible physical feat of all, only 6 months ago.
It is in having my daughter that I am reminded of the
dependency bell curve of life. We start
dependent and we end in some level of dependency too. I was pushing my daughter in a stroller when
I was running this past week and a middle-age man commented about how we start as
we end. From diapers to incontinence
supplies. From stroller to
wheelchair. And sadly as I am starting
to feed my daughter solid foods and she opens wide to tell me she’s ready for
more, I am reminded of feeding my grandmother her meals in the end stages of
her Alzheimer-ridden life.
I am near the height of the bell-curve and that is why it is
so demoralizing that I have an injury.
For the most part this body does me so well. I am near the height of the bell curve and so
I do not let death hold much real estate in my mind. Foolishly, I was near whimsical during my own
mother’s recent health ordeal. She was
diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 7 months pregnant. But, immediately she was given the assurance
that it was not life-threatening. What
an assurance that was! However, in the
knowledge of medicine having my mom’s case under control I selfishly found
myself thus annoyed that her health would delay her ability to come and visit
me and our first born baby. Annoyed not
at my mother, but at the situation.
Annoyed. I balk at that now as I
am reminded of the fragility of life. My
mother too, is not that far from the height of the bell curve of life (though
granted on the other side of it); but her life is still delicate, just like
mine and just like my daughter’s.
When we acknowledge death, life in and of itself becomes
fragile. So today I am grateful for the
lives around me, for the life within me.
And as disappointed as I was that I could not do my training trail run
yesterday and my hopefulness for, but uncertainty of completing the trail race
itself, I am thankful for the reminder that each action of life from
conceiving, to breathing, to sharing life with cherished family, to running up
mountainsides is a gift. Just as I am
thankful for the spiritual and emotional life that Jesus gives, so too, I am
thankful for the physical breath God has given these lungs.
Genesis 2:7
“And the LORD God formed a man’s body from the dust of the
ground and breathed into it the breath of life.
And man became a living person.”
John 10:10
[Jesus says] “I came so they can have real and eternal life,
more and better life than they ever dreamed of.”
Psalm 39:4-7
“LORD, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.
Remind me that my days are numbered, and that my life is
fleeing away.
My life is no longer than the width of my hand.
An entire lifetime is just a moment to you;
Human existence is but a breath.
We are merely moving shadows,
And all our busy rushing ends in nothing.
We heap up wealth for someone else to spend.
And so, Lord, where do I put my hope?
My only hope is in you.”
So I will probably continue to push, become, build and
achieve. But I hope my new “life-resume”
will begin a little more like this: Cheryl Rostek is an accomplished
appreciator of every opportunity she is
given and that she creates to cherish the God-given life within her and
surrounding her.
Cheesy? Yeah. But you
get my point. Now go hug someone you
love.
