Incarnate

The first intense round of chemo for my friend has blasted the leukemia cells. He received word last Friday that the cancer cells are gone. This was incredible, heartening news. He still has a road ahead, but this was a huge hurdle cleared.

Of course, as too many of you who read this know all too well, the slaughter of the cancer comes at the cost of many good, noble, well-intentioned cells who were doing their jobs just fine, thank you. So my friend is incredibly weak and incomprehensibly vulnerable. He has no white blood cells to fight against infection. He has no platelets to clot the blood if he is injured. A common cold or a misstep could turn serious.

I bang my shins on something just about every day. I get tiny paper cuts all too frequently. When I look down at my legs while riding the exercise bike or preparing to jump in the pool, I see the little bumps and bruises I collect in every day life. I never thought before about how many things in my body need to be working right in order for those bruises to appear. Vessels need to be clogged by platelets. A parameter is set up. The platelets say that the wound can go this far, but no further.

And as my hand grabs a door handle and then I push back hair from my eyes, I expose myself to a kabillion little germs that set my immune system in motion. As someone who suffers from (too many) allergies and has to get shots to train my immune system to calm down, I am all too aware of the work of my white blood cells. Maybe I could loan some to my friend and we'd both be better off!

When I ponder these things, I realize how dangerous it is to live in this world in these fragile bodies and at the same time I marvel at what these bodies can do. This morning, I went surfing (I'm in California, at present) and my body simultaneously helped me balance on the board, warmed my hands and feet against the 60 degree water (the rest of me was in a wet suit and just fine), and kept me attune to the presence of other surfers all while processing the granola bar I'd had on the drive down to the water.

Later this week I'll watch my friend Scott ride in the Tour of California, a week-long bicycle race. Last night I heard amazing music produced by human voices singing a capella in the Cathedral of Los Angeles.

All of these things we humans can do. If we're healthy.

And so while I waited between sets this morning, I sat on my board and I prayed for my friend. I prayed for the singers and the cyclists and the surfers. I prayed for all of us incarnate beings, who are fearfully and wonderfully made. And I prayed in awe and in thanksgiving for a God who was willing to take on flesh and become like one of us--fragile and fearfully made--so that he could heal all our diseases and redeem our lives from the pit.

Blessed be his holy name.