The very nature of scars indicates healing. No healing of a wound comes without some kind of scar. A little reminder of what once was. But, that's the key...it's what once WAS, not what IS. A scar shows where we were wounded. What we have lived through. That we survived.
It's not the scars that we should worry about. It's the places that don't heal. That get picked at. Reopened over and over. Become infected. Go untreated. Turn black. Smell. Die. Those are the places that threaten us. Our scars have pain now and then. They might be a blemish where there wasn't one, but they are HEALED places. And, with time, we live with them in their proper place....a memory, an experience, something that happened, or someone that happened.
The dangerous thing is not to have scars. Just like a six year old on a bike, we have to EXPECT scars. Owies. Falls. Spills. But, when they happen we have to go running to get them tended. Kissed. Cleaned. Bandaged. We have to take the time to let them heal.
But sometimes we feel like we deserve the owie. Or that we did something wrong. Or failed. Or woulda, coulda, shoulda. We pick at those owies. Make them bleed. Make them bigger. Maybe even mess with them long enough that a serious infection develops. Something that keeps us from healing. Unforgiveness. Depression. Sleeplessness. Drugs. Alcohol. Self mutilating. Anger.
All because we got an owie. A genuine, bona fide, painful owie....that we needed treatment for. That needed to heal.
I was always afraid of scars. Now, I think that they are the beauty marks of a life well lived. Indicative of healthy, forgiving living. I choose the scars. I choose to heal.
grace to you.
It's not the scars that we should worry about. It's the places that don't heal. That get picked at. Reopened over and over. Become infected. Go untreated. Turn black. Smell. Die. Those are the places that threaten us. Our scars have pain now and then. They might be a blemish where there wasn't one, but they are HEALED places. And, with time, we live with them in their proper place....a memory, an experience, something that happened, or someone that happened.
The dangerous thing is not to have scars. Just like a six year old on a bike, we have to EXPECT scars. Owies. Falls. Spills. But, when they happen we have to go running to get them tended. Kissed. Cleaned. Bandaged. We have to take the time to let them heal.
But sometimes we feel like we deserve the owie. Or that we did something wrong. Or failed. Or woulda, coulda, shoulda. We pick at those owies. Make them bleed. Make them bigger. Maybe even mess with them long enough that a serious infection develops. Something that keeps us from healing. Unforgiveness. Depression. Sleeplessness. Drugs. Alcohol. Self mutilating. Anger.
All because we got an owie. A genuine, bona fide, painful owie....that we needed treatment for. That needed to heal.
I was always afraid of scars. Now, I think that they are the beauty marks of a life well lived. Indicative of healthy, forgiving living. I choose the scars. I choose to heal.
grace to you.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Go ahead. Make my day. Leave me a comment.