“My scars tell a story. They are a reminder of times when life tried to break me, but failed. They are markings of where the structure of my character was welded.” Steve Maraboli.
Today I want to reflect on some of my scars. I have several scars in my body, and there is a story behind each one, a story of hurt, of pain of suffering and yes, a story of healing. These are four of my scars in chronological order.
My first scar is on the right side of my neck. I got this scar when I was a few months old. I don’t recall anything about this scar except what I am told.My second scar is on my left thigh. This scar is evidence of childhood rebellion. I was burnt by boiling water as a little girl at my grandparents’ place. I have been warned several times to stay away from the coal stove, and would not listen, so I got burned and had to experience first hand the excruciating pain of a burn wound.
My third scar is on my ankle, right between my lower leg and my foot. I got run over by a donkey cart, the ones that use to sell coal. I had followed my sister to the football game. After the game as we were walking home with some of her friends, that’s when the accident happened. We saw the donkey coming, everybody run away and being the chubby kid that I was I could not run as fast as others, so I found myself under the donkey cart. Its four wheels ran over my body, and the donkey putting its foot on my ankle.
Forth scar is on the middle figure on my right hand. It was my first year at vasity, I went to the bathroom to take a bath. I noticed the bathroom window was badly crack. As I was bathing, I realized there was so much steam in the bathroom, I reached out to open the window, as I was opening the window, it broke. Before I knew it my figure was bleeding profusely. The cut was pretty deep. I had to be taken to the hospital.
In the hospital they cleaned my wound, remove pieces of broken bottles from inside my flesh, stitched it and cover it. I watched closely as my wound healed before my eyes, with the pain getting better with each passing day. Indeed God made a human body amazingly resilient. When the healing was complete, a scar appeared.
These are my external scars, they were once painful, open wounds, but today, they hold nothing but beautiful memories. My scars serve as a reminder of the pain I had endured, but they are also a beautiful reminder of what I have survived.
In life we bear not only external scars but internal scars as well. I have scars in my soul and I have scars in my heart, evidence of the wounds that once raged with pain, and a soul that was once heavily bruised. When your soul has been heavily bruised you begin to feel like an outsider in my own life. Internal scars are harder to identify because they are no visible bruises, but the damage is there, buried deep down beneath the skin and the physical extremities.
Unlike external scars, internal scars affect us on a deeper level, and because we hide them, they take much longer to heal. I have learned never to be ashamed of the scars life left me because God has a purpose for my scars. Some of my scars are visible, some are invisible, some caused by others, some self-inflicted. But I have learned to embrace them all, because when I look at them today, I see the lesson they have taught me, the values they represent, the love they recall and the wisdom they bestowed. While my scars show where I have been, they do not dictate where I am going.
My scars are proof that God heals. He is Jehovah Rapha, the Lord my Healer, He turns bitter experiences and make them sweet. If He had allowed it to happen, He has some greater purpose behind it. When Jesus rose from the dead, He had scars in His hands as a testament of what He had conquered.
Today I look at myself in the mirror and I love what I see, I love the woman I have become and the scars that brought me to this place. My scars represent all those things that were meant to hurt me or destroy me, but instead, made me stronger. They tell a story and the ending of that story says “I survived.”