The Blessing of Life

 Gavin has been asking for a massage for several weeks now. He is finding that playing basketball uses muscles that video games do not.  So I set up my yoga studio with blankets and foam pads, lotions and oils, incense and Alanis Morrissette's new meditation album playing in the background.  I was thinking, "Man, this is a hell of a setup. I wish someone would give me a massage!" 

 

He reluctantly came in and gave up his phone, but within a short time was breathing relaxed breaths in deep rest. As I massaged his hands a smile crossed my lips, for these hands used to be so small and now are much larger than my own. As I massaged his legs, I recalled rubbing these chubby, stubby baby legs that are now long, lanky, and hairy.   And just like the sinful woman in Luke 7 who massaged Jesus's feet, a tear fell from my eyes to his toes, and I remembered holding these tiny bean shaped feet that have now grown into man size feet. 

I paused to thank God for the blessing of being a mother and for the opportunity to have my heart broken open with love for a teenager that at times, in all honesty, has the power to make me regret my decision to parent.  

I also pause to thank God for the blessing of being allowed to age, not all of us are allowed that privilege.  Grateful that we have had this opportunity to grow and learn and most importantly reflect on the lessons from our trials and tribulations.  Grateful for the privilege to be human and experience love and loss, as hard at times as both may be. Grateful for the privilege to grow old.  For every gray hair, every wrinkle, every inch of sagging skin is a memory of the love and loss we were blessed to consume in our glorious lifetime.  Aging, with all its aches and pains, and its ability to make us reluctant to view our own reflections in a mirror, are truly a gift from God.  

Thank You for the blessing of this life and every opportunity I get to live it with you.