Paul talks about each of us being a part of the body of Christ. When I first heard this, my very literal mind thought of a person with several noses, mouths etc. It was a somewhat comical representation of what Paul was talking about. He does state that not everyone serves the same function within the body, but that everyone’s purpose is important and essential to the body.
My mind couldn’t stop thinking about this analogy. I kept wondering who was called to be the heart, the lungs, the liver, and the list continued. What was my function within the body of Christ? Obviously, I wasn’t a mouth, public speaking terrifies me. I could be a nose (mine own is big enough), but with my allergies, I wouldn’t make a very good nose. I mentally went over the list of favorable body parts that I could possibly be. I silently checked them off one by one. Then I went to the less savory body parts, all essential, yet not so glamourous. Finally, it dawned on me. I was the big toe on the body.
A somewhat ignored appendage that is noticed when the nail needs work or when you accidently run it into a door frame, but not really spectacular. I add balance and an occasional hang nail. And that was on a good day. What about my pinkie toe days? The ones where chair legs and large dogs constantly smash me, those times were worse.
Yesterday, I felt that my value within the body dropped beyond even pinkie toe status. I fell to appendix level. A worthless, superfluous organ that served no real function and caused considerable pain when inflamed.
The realization that I am not very good at something I really enjoy, writing; that I seem to have failed at my primary task, mothering; and I suck all the way around kept circling my head. Yes, yesterday was a very pouty day. I hate days like that when I seem to focus on so many little negatives until they become a big dollop of self-pity and stupidity.
My value and worth to God aren’t determined by my mood, thankfully. He sees me for who and what I am not by my emotionality. After all this time, you think that I would know that I need to press into him when I am having one of those days, but I hugged my hurt instead of my God. I cradled my grievances and catered to my whims instead of turning it over to the one who can help. I didn’t even phone a friend.
Days like yesterday are hiccups that occur far less frequently than they before my recommitment, and my old big toe parallel probably needs to be rethought. Clearly, he wasn’t referring to a real body but a metaphorical one.
My God consistently loves me even when I am unsure of my purpose. He knows where I fit in this world even when I don’t feel like I fit in at all. I guess my big toe days are there to remind me that I am his even when my moods fluctuate. And when I am not strong enough, my God is.
I am a Christian, a wife, a mom, and a part-time basket case who wants to be a full time writer.