I have a lot of scars. You know, those discolored, ugly lines on your skin (not wrinkles) that form after a cut or a wound. Each one of them is tied to a memory. I was looking at one the other day and realized I really have a lot. Did that mean I was really clumsy? Did it mean I've had a very physical life? Was it self-abuse? Some of them I call "war wounds" and show them off. Others are hidden and no one ever sees them.
Let me tell you about a few. My very first one is on my right ankle. Its about 3.5 inches long. When I was 3 years old I was riding on the back of my mother's bike. This was before car seats and baby bike seats. My dress somehow got caught and as I was pulling it out I forgot about my feet. My right foot went into the spokes of the bicycle. It happened right in front of a neighbor's house that my mother knew. I vividly remember sitting on the edge of the sink and the water being blood red. I was rushed to the hospital where the wound was stitched up. I can still see eight little dots on either side of the cut from the sutures.
While I'm at my feet, there are three scars on my left foot. One at the base of my 4th toe where I did a somersault into a carpet tack. Second grade I think. One on the inside border where I walked into a drill my step-father left on the floor, and a fairly large scar on the top near my ankle from where my horse fell on me.
That's kind of a funny story. Some people came over, the day before 9th grade, that's freshman year of high school, my sister and I were asked to take their son or daughter horseback riding. I didn't want to go. I jumped on the yearling (maybe she was 2) with no saddle. Only the bridle and me in my flip-flops. The horse I was riding on, in the street, slipped on some rocks and fell, landing on my left leg. I was scraped up from knee to foot. I jumped back on the horse and we raced home. In the ER the doctor's were amazed nothing was broken. The doctor said there was a rock embedded in my foot. He holds up a bottle of something, said 'this is going to hurt' then started to pour the liquid. I didn't feel a thing. I recovered fully, but the memory lingers.
I have a scar below my right knee. Don't know from what. A scar on my right thigh from when my dog jumped into the pool and I was helping her out, one on my left from the cat. Two of my proudest visible scars are from C-sections. I have a scar on my back from jumping over a barbed wire fence, two on my abdomen from mole removal, another on my chin from mole removal. I have one on my left pinky from when my sister slammed a door on my hand and broke it, a long scar on my right pinky from a cat, and finally, I think, right index finger from broken glass.
I don't remember the pain of any of these wounds. Only the memories of the incidents remain. Some are vague, some are almost too vivid.
However, it's the scars you don't see that haunt me. Those scars are the ones where the pain is remembered more than the event that caused them. The invisible scars are the emotional scars that are not 'war wounds' and are difficult to deal with because we, I, typically do not talk about them. I can look back and laugh about the above scars because they were mostly accidents. Emotional scars only fade if we release them to the one who heals.
Some people have visible scars that are very much tied to the emotional ones. They are reminders of things in the past and often in the present. Whenever I see someone with those types of scars I often want to know, what's their story, how are they dealing with both the physical and the emotional.
Scars, both physical and emotional, are reminders. I'll never ride a horse barefoot again! I remember my children's birth every time I look in the mirror when getting dressed. My emotional scars remind me that the people who created those scars are also wounded creatures. Those scars help me remember to to love as I have been loved and to forgive as I have been forgiven. Have you ever wondered why Jesus, who brought himself back to life after being beaten and crucified on the cross, left the scars on his hands?
John 20:24 Now Thomas (also known as Didymus), one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. 25 So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he said to them, “Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”
Maybe those scars were left only for Thomas.
John 20:26 A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said,“Peace be with you!” 27 Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.” 28 Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God!”
29 Then Jesus told him, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”
Some people need a little reminder. I look at my scars differently now. Not only do they remind me of events in my life, they also remind me of Jesus. He was scarred so that I can live.
What do your scars mean to you?