Health Musings

Years ago I heard someone ask a question that has quietly followed me ever since:

Is this a problem to be solved, or a tension to be managed?

Lately I’ve been wondering if health belongs more in the second category.

Like most of us, I want to get rid of the pain. End the crisis. Get back to normal.

But perhaps being human has never meant arriving at a place where our bodies ask nothing of us.

Maybe our bodies are not our enemies.

Maybe they’re our companions.

Their symptoms can feel frightening, but they can also become invitations—calling our attention to places that need care, rest, wisdom, or healing.

This season has reminded me how quickly we reach for certainty. We search for the perfect diet, the perfect supplement, the perfect medication, the perfect protocol. And I understand why.

We’re reaching for safety.

There is so much wisdom available today, and I’m grateful for it. Good physicians. Thoughtful practitioners. Nutrition. Medication. Movement. Prayer. Mindfulness. Every one of them has something to offer.

But no one else lives inside your body.

Each of us has to receive wisdom, then listen carefully as it passes through the unique filter of our own mind, body, and spirit.

Perhaps that’s where discernment quietly grows.

More and more, I’m convinced that gratitude may be one of the greatest healing practices we have.

Gratitude for access.

Access to nourishing food.

Access to medication when we need it.

Access to compassionate medical teams.

Access to people who teach us to breathe a little deeper and hold life a little more gently.

Sometimes gratitude means eating the chocolate cake without guilt.

Sometimes gratitude means leaving it on the plate because your body is asking for something different.

Either way, gratitude is still leading.

This health journey has humbled me.

I’ve always wanted to encourage others by sharing what has helped me. I still do. But I’ve also learned that physical crisis asks for a kind of surrender that information alone cannot provide.

Seasons change.

Bodies change.

Healing changes.

So my prayer is simply this:

May we honor the path we’re on.

May we be gentle with ourselves.

May we remember that we can be both strong and frail, full of faith and full of questions, all at the same time.

One last thought.

It’s easy to focus on the cost of medications, appointments, supplements, and healthy food.

I’m choosing instead to be grateful that I have access to them.

And what a gift that the cards my friends and family have been purchasing have helped make some of that possible.

Sometimes healing looks like medicine.

Sometimes it looks like community.

And sometimes they’re one and the same.