The Test of Appreciation and Self-Care

Every decade has its challenges, as my skin refuses to keep its elasticity and my hair refuses to stay in its follicle, my body parts refuse to defy gravity, and my bones think they are supposed to grind together. What am I to do with eyes that weaken and ears that have lost their way?

Proper energy levels have refused my best wishes, and my feet wish they hadn’t danced barefoot on concrete floors decades ago. I take a moment to reflect on where this body is going to take me—If I cooperate with it, that is.

Within my Christian religious paradigm, I believe that as part of our decision to choose mortality and the creation plan of the Gods, we were given assignments, responsibilities, and choices. Perhaps it was explained to us that we would be given a body, one that would be an eternal blessing because it would be a great instructor in our first lessons in the development of our creative abilities.

I also believe that as part of our agreement to take on this fleshy, unfamiliar package, it would mean that we would be assigned a unique set of molecules that would be exclusively ours—forever. The agreement may have included a promise to love, appreciate and care for that bundle of cells until our mortal death.

When we die, no matter how we die, eaten by a shark, blown up in some ghastly event, or succumbing to a slow destructive disease, our particular molecules cannot be destroyed—ever, because the great plan calls for the promise of an all-inclusive resurrection. Our assigned cell package will be called forth from the great realm of the creative forces and, by the unfathomable miracle of resurrection, will be transformed into an eternal being of flesh and bones to live eternally in whatever kingdom of Light we have obeyed and imbued into those molecules.

But before that great day, we will endure the grueling trial of passing the test called Appreciation and Self-care, as agreed to long ago. Appreciation for every wrinkle, deficiency, extra fat cell, painful joint, chronic disease, flaming nerve ending, crooked nose, and malfunctioning brain synapsis—and care for that very bundle of bone, blood, and sinew.

I believe that we may be asked at some point how we cared for that particular group of living cells we were entrusted with. How did we allow our thoughts to derail our body’s struggle to heal both physically and mentally? How stubborn were we about giving up that food or drink, behavior, or harmful substance?

So many of us have just followed the mind coping strategies hoping that all would be well—until we got sick enough—that’s it—that’s always it when the pain of living in a body that is sick enough or we get close enough to the inevitable death time. Then we may make a mad dash into self-care, trying to stop the unstoppable tide.

What if we were to embrace these wonky masses of molecules and at least see them as our friends instead of something to be endured? What if we realized early on, or even right now, that we are blessed beyond our current understanding and that, in fact, we, each one of us—warts and all—are the envy of Satan and his sorry cohorts? They will never have resurrection and the joy of their redemption.

No matter what decade we are in, I promise that the next bodily decade will be more difficult unless we make some changes in our current mindset about the care and love of our own assigned molecules. Merely contemplating these things may bring added light to our minds and, thus, our remarkable bundle of cells—the first test of our creative abilities.