Muscle Mass

        Take care of your body with steadfast fidelity.
        The soul must see through these eyes,
         and, if they are dim, the whole world is clouded. 
                                      - Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

It was back to the church of the broken.  Different location.  Same religion. This time
it was for me, not my son. Somehow, in the
year of one-darn-thing-after-another, I left a colonoscopy with terrible groin pain.  My whole world was clouded by a growing fear that a sudden, unexpected stab of pain might take me down.  And so I came to physical therapy twice a week to clear my soul eyes which appeared to be connected to my hip bone.

The church of the broken is a friendly place. The members smile at each other as they arrive in the waiting room.  Familiarity quickly develops. Without exchanging information, we all understand what we have in common, and we all have hope that our faith shall heal us.

The receptionist is this church’s greeter.  She recognizes each of us as we enter through the automatic doors.  She waves at each of us as we arrive, and from behind the glass she mouths: “I’ll check you in.” This is not a place where people can stand in a line to wait.

There is something holy about mending the human body.  Perhaps that is the proof that our bodies are tied to our souls.  And in this particular church, there is something awesome about the officiant who performs my services.  He wears no fancy robes.  No bells sound his arrival.  No incense forms a fragrant cloud that precedes him.  The door to the inner sanctum opens, and he steps out.  Dressed in black scrubs and athletic shoes, he calls my name.  I notice his broad smile, his straight white teeth, and his strong hands.  He is radiant and his skin appears to be the color of kindness as he holds the door open for me to pass.

Over the weeks, this priest’s gentle sermons are about comfort and support, form and function, strength and flexibility, limitations and possibilities.  He makes me a believer.  I do my at-home exercises religiously.  My hip pain is relieved, and my leg gets stronger. 

But what really heals my soul and lingers in my ears is the way this priest speaks of his wife and three young children, of their fairy gardens, yes days, and trips to the zoo.  His love for his family is so deep, expressed so naturally and so earnestly that I feel like I am listening in on someone’s sacred prayers.  I am certain that this man knows God, and God knows him--and his wife and children too.  How special they must be to be loved so deeply, so openly, so honestly.  His life is a prayer for them.

The experience feels so wondrous, so moving that I want to call his family and tell them the good news, what I have overheard.  I want to be certain that in in the ups and downs of life, when hardships come, they will never be doubters.  I want them to know that this is the kind of love that raised Lazarus from the dead. 

I came to this church of the broken to fix my damaged leg, but I find healing in another part of me, the part of my soul that has been gravely injured by our current social, political, and media climate.  And so, I share the good news with you today: Love lives! 
 

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