I read this deal a while back that stunned me into a state quietude.  Which, if you ask the females in this house, may not be a bad thing. 

The piece was about a lady who was responding to remarks said regarding a public appearance she had made. (She was a celebrity)

The remarks were about the dress she wore, and how it did, or did not, accent her body. 

Then she made the remark that stunned me. 

She said something to this effect—“My body is not me.  I live inside it, but it doesn’t define who I am.  I have had to make peace with what my body is; it’s okay, but I’m not a part of it.”

I guess I’ve been utterly naïve.

Because, to be right honest here, I always thought me was me. 

All of me, that is.  My fingers, my hair or lack thereof, my knee that aches ‘most everyday, all of me. 

But according to this lady, (I can’t remember her name, thankfully) that’s not me. 

That’s my body. 

And, ping. 

Just like that, I’m absolved of any blame or responsibility.  Not so much for my body, but then, it surely can look out for and defend itself.

I suppose on my good days, if I have accepted and made peace with my body, then I could even take credit from some of the good things my body does. 

I suppose on my bad days, if I wish, I can find all sorts of things wrong with my body, and therefore prove that ‘it’ isn’t me, and that ‘it’ doesn’t need my attention on such a day.

Hmmm. 

I see some very real possibilities with this approach.  And maybe some disadvantages.

Let’s suppose the sweet daughter says,

“Can you fill my car up with gas, please?”

Me,

“Well, it just so happens that ‘I’ would be happy to do that for you.  But this ole body of mine just ain’t been cooperative today, and last I checked, it threw a hissy fit when I proposed any type of physical movements.  Sorry, looks like not today.”

Or, the good wife goes,

“Can you dump the cat litter box sometime today?”

Me,

“You know I’d do that any day for you, dear.  I’m obliged to skip out on it today though.  I heard my body having a conference with all members earlier and it seems it is holding a mutiny against me for the way I disregarded its desires yesterday.”

Or what about this angle—

Officer,

“Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?”

Me,

“Yes, I do in fact.  My leg knew I had an appointment that I was late for and it kept pushing on the accelerator.  I knew it wasn’t going to end well, kept trying to talk it down, but it wouldn’t listen.  I really can’t help what my body just did.  It was against my wishes; I’ll have you to know.”

Officer, looking at me narrowly,

“Sir, you can resolve this in court if you wish.  I’m writing you up for speeding and for contempt of the law.”  (if there is such a thing as contempt of the law)

I wonder.  If I took this thing to court, would it take two lawyers to defend my case?  One for my body, and one for me?  Probably only one, since I wasn’t involved, just my body was.  And I suppose, should I be asked to do my time in the pen, I could look on disdainfully at my body as it rots away and be thankful that at least I was innocent of such heinous crimes.

*****

I guess this isn’t anything new.  If I remember right, I read not so long ago about a certain man who was eating something he wasn’t supposed to, and when asked about it, said, “Um, er, well, you see it was like this.  The woman You gave me, made me eat it.”

You know what?  I wish we didn’t have to deal with this kind of thing.  The thing of making excuses and always trying to look and be right.

But it looks like since that man ate what that woman gave him back there, years ago now, that we as a human race have been struggling with it ever since.

It seems like it is so much baggage to maintain. 

Some folks use their dog as a scapegoat. 

Some repeatedly use their spouse, which infuriates me. 

Some even use God, making it look like they are super good folks and always do just what God says, but when they get pinned in a corner, then it’s God who told them or didn’t tell them what to do.

I had a friend tell me once, when I was facing some dire circumstances that were of my own making, that, “Really, facing the facts, even if the facts aren’t pleasant, brings its own bit of courage to deal with them.”

So, if I think about this correctly, if we don’t own up to our mistakes, or face the facts, then we are cowards. 

And we prefer to act helpless and stupid about it all.

Every last one of us.

Because we’ve all made excuses at some point or other.

And if we are really honest, those excuses are never really the whole truth, rather just enough of it to make us look good.  But looked at by themselves, those excuses appear for what they really are, just a bunch of flimsy, fishy words strung together that sound kinda right for the situation we are in.

An old minister once said, “An attitude becomes a spirit when we let it stand up and cry for itself.”

Now I don’t mean to get preachy here, but it seems to me that if we let our excuses stand up and try to do the talking for us, we’ve entered into a contract of sorts with a certain subtle one that began this whole process with our father and mother, back there in a garden.

If I’ve let myself make excuses, and entered into that contract, then it remains that unsigning that contract is going to be difficult. 

But it can be done. 

And the way to do it is so simple.  It’s the courage it takes that is hard.

The whole process is couched within one word.

Admit.