Last night, I was tired and headachy and sleepy, getting ready for bed, and the only thought that would stay in mind was this one:
That Jesus was born, lived and died as a man, not only to rescue us from ourselves. He brought us forgiveness, yes, resurrection and healing and wholeness. But first--he reminded us that life is worth living. That love is real (not sex, not wanting someone to love us, but the free exchange of caring for another, for one another) and what we were made for. That our physical bodies are a joy and a glory, as well as our souls; that both of them together was a worthy form for the Son of God to take. That Son of Man was a name he was willing (and proud) to wear.
May I remember this, on days when my body isn't well, or when my mind is heavy with sorrow and anger and disgust. May I remember how grateful I am for my being, all aspects of it. And how much it tickles me that He too loved to be hugged, to smell warm food, to taste sour and sweetness and salt.
How close He drew to me, to enable me to both draw close to Him, and to become fully who I am meant to be. Right now. Right here.