Scars

Scars.  We all have them.  Some have amazing stories.  

Like the one on my face, just above my eyebrow:  got that one by being a genius and blindly carrying two milk jugs, tripping over the raised root of a tree, and landing my face smack-dab on the corner of a picnic table.  THAT is a story. Such grace.  

Then there's the scar I have on the back of my heel after my foot got stuck trying to enter a friend's home to teach piano lessons.  Takes REAL talent to get your foot stuck in an open door.  

Then there are the not-so-fun scars...

...like the one I have inside my hair line where my body donated its own skin graft to complete my new eye implant.  That's a funny one that forms a weird lump on my head, and messes with the part in my hair.  For the most part, though, it's pretty hidden.  Until I get a haircut.  

....or the six, new ones I picked up this Spring when the surgeon repaired my esophagus.  Sadly, they don't even form some sort of cool shape.  It would have been nice to be sporting at least a dot-to-dot shape that at least resembled a constellation.  

....or the giant one that stretches across my abdomen.  That scar joined my body a dozen year ago today, after endometriosis decided that it wanted to literally stick around EVERYWHERE inside my body.  The pain was unbearable, and a total hysterectomy was the only viable answer, thus the 7-inch scar that runs along my pelvic bone. 

Honestly, though, it's the scars that you do NOT see on my body that are messing with my head and heart today.  Internal scars, where deep wounds have yet to heal.  Scars that come from still dealing with the griefs found within, and wrestled with each day.  Especially today.

These are the scars that aren't as easily pointed to. 

These are the scars that can't be compared with others.  

These are the scars that don't come with entertaining anecdotes.  

Scars that remind you that carrying a baby wasn't your lot in life.  

Scars that pinch your last nerve when another friend announces their pregnancy.

Scars that form lumps in your throat as you figure out how not to choke up when sadness rushes over you.  Again.  And again.  UGH.  

My heart was all over the place, especially on the anniversary of my surgery.  It's just not an easy day.  Some years, I can acknowledge this death date in my story, and grieve no deeper than on ordinary days.  This year?  Yikes.  I have a feeling it's because I'm run-down and still recovering, and have even more marks of health-scares on my body.  I just felt the loss all that much more.  Rather thankful I wasn't alone today.    

External scars give you a chance to tell your story - they almost invite the conversation.  Something is seen, something is reacted to, something is explained.  It's not that easy when the scars of your life have placed their mark on you.  Honestly, that's it:  you're marked.  You're marked forever, and your life will always be different.  You learn to live with the scar....it's just not always the best feeling.  

Now, the Child of God in me KNOWS that I'm also marked with the cross of Christ forever.  

Got it. No reminders needed there.  I'll happily take THOSE marks.

But when the little child sitting on my lap nuzzles into me....and then calls someone else "Mom", that's the scar that cuts the deepest.  

Lord, let this day be over and bring new hope tomorrow.  Amen.