The older I get, the more betrayed I feel. By my body. This physical address of my soul. This house I wear like a turtle shell to carry me from here to there.
Yet it was just such a cover that Jesus squeezed into. Flesh. Of the most helpless variety.
And even now, it’s in these same human bodies that he still chooses to live.
So even though mine aches more than it used to, and doesn’t fit as tightly or move as fluidly, it’s still my instrument to use, to play in, to house him. (I need to be more thankful for this incredible gift despite its erosion; I’m working on it.)
May he awake anew in your body this Christmas as you remember his first morning waking in his own personal skin.
May he use your movements and words and heart to reach and touch others with his love.
May he give you a blessed and meaningful Christmas with family and friends.
Merry Christmas from my family to yours!