Something inside me is coming alive again.
It’s November 30th and the wind bites as leaves are whisked to and fro around me, tumbling along the side of the street like a Solstice dance. I can feel Winter approaching, the season most associated with death, strangely bringing new life to my body. There’s a spring in my step I have not had in months, years, and in my mind’s eye I see a rush of new cells cascading through my veins, remaking themselves healthier, stronger. They say the body regenerates itself every seven years, though scientific validity of this claim is arguable. What is known, however, is that various cells of the body do in fact regenerate in specified intervals. The liver, for example, is said to regenerate every six weeks and the skin every thirty-five days. To quote one of my favorite authors, “you are not who you once were,” even several months ago.
And tonight I feel it. I feel this change palpably, and every cell in my being wants to shout for joy, wants to celebrate this giant shift from just merely existing to truly living once again.
I pick up speed, walk like I’m late to a wedding, and feel the surge of energy propel me forward. In perfect cue, I look up and there above me in the fading hours of daylight are a flock of Canadian geese in perfect formation. It is almost other worldly, this avian visage, and I can’t help but let a W-O-W slip off my tongue. I watch them soar and feel my heart rise out of my chest, as if it was apt to join them.
The sight of these beautiful creatures revives my soul, reminding me that we were made for higher things. We weren’t made to be caged; to our prisons of work, of sickness, of demands, of status. We were made to be free, to frolic and play and wonder at the world, to watch every sunset and be awake at every sunrise. To live amongst the wild, in harmony with nature, the beasts and verdure of that first garden.
But all is not right in the world. And our bodies waste as the world around us slowly dies as well. These pockets of beauty, the woods by my house, the spaces of green, are quickly dwindling away. And sightings like tonight will grow rarer, I fear, in the coming years. There is so much death that surrounds us in this modern age. We can feel the whole earth groaning for renewal, rebirth.
What is happening inside my body is a miracle, nothing less. And I see little miracles almost daily if I keep my eyes open in wonder, looking for the extraordinary in this world.
Something inside me tells me this is right, that we are correct to expect renewal, or more accurately, restoration; it is hardwired into our nature to do so, designed by our Creator before the fall ever took place. It was God’s plan all along to remake what He first spoke into existence. His word spoke light, day, essence into being. And all the rest of creation followed suit. Beauty erupted from nothing, life was formed out of newly spoken earth, temptation entered, sin came, man fell, death ensued. We have been toiling and striving since, yet something deep within us has always been bent on becoming new, resetting and perfecting what has withered.
The leaves on my ivy houseplant shrivel, turn brown, and wilt every several days. I trim these deadened pieces, pruning what is no longer viable, and watch and wait for new shoots to sprout forth. And just like clockwork, they do. God in His unending mercy and compassion wrote regeneration into the creation He bore, wove it into our genetic code, the DNA of our cells. We were made to want it, to pursue it, to yearn after it. I know that this urge, this forward fight for full healing can only be from Him, His Spirit within me wanting to be made new, again and again.
And the same Spirit that raised Christ Jesus from the dead will bring life to our mortal bodies. I can feel it. His Spirit inside of me bringing me new life, flooding my bloodstream with His life, with healing that cannot be explained by any other way. Not by the vitamins, herbs, food, or other supplements or treatments I have pumped my body full of for the past year and a half. No, no, this influx of life can only be traced back to the Giver of life Himself. There is no other way, no other explanation. No one and nothing else can give reason for this rapid reversal of a body that just a few months ago felt as if it was on a fast path of decay, hastening to the grave. It can only be Him, this true Restorer, Remaker, Renewer, Reviver God I owe my life to. I stand in awe and do my best not to let myself overlook or forget. To etch this into my heart, put the words down on paper and spread it around, lest I let another day go by and not take time to marvel and give thanks.
And in just a breath’s span the geese are out of sight and the pink sky turns to grey and I am left gazing up, trying not to let go of the moment. And I don’t let go, but grasp on even tighter, ever more resolved to believe that the best is yet to come. Because no matter the age we might wear, or the years we might have lost, there lives a God above who makes all things new. Let my own life be a testament to this power and truth.