He had scars from his wrist to his bicep. He wore them so proudly. Constant reminders of the dark past that are so easily seen in the light. Anyone who walked past knew those scars were the cuts of despair, hopelessness, and complete surrender to life. He didn’t hide them, though. A sleeveless shirt as almost to showcase the scars of a broken past.
I don’t know what he used to make those scars on his arms or why he was so desperately altering his body, but I got it.
Pain comes in all forms. Pain from other people’s words, pain from a physical aspect such as a fight or a fall, and pain from self harm. In my case, I caused pain on my body to tangible feel actual pain from the pain I was receiving verbally from people. Their words stung but when I would cut I could actually feel the pain.
This still doesn’t answer the question of how could I be jealous of a homeless man, though. Let me tell you. This guy had no place to live and was covered in scars, yet he welcomed us in to his “home” and smiled the whole time. I’m a coward. I got a tattoo to cover my scars because I couldn’t stand looking down and seeing them. I saw them when I paid at the cash register, doing arts and crafts at the preschool with kiddos, or anything with my left hand. I couldn’t handle the past so I chose to avoid it.
This guy wore his scars so well. He had a great attitude and his joy lifted my spirits as soon as I met him. I like to think the Lord showed me that he loves me no matter what. He loves me with scars on my body and he loves me with the tattoo that covers them. He loves me just as much as the homeless guy who can’t cover his scars. In that moment I realized he was homeless, hungry, and we couldn’t understand one word spoken by each other, but he was my brother. God loves him the same as he loves me and our scars (that can tell such a redemption story) united us.
Thanks for the heart check my Romanian brother! You’ll never know the impact you had on my life or how important and special the day was I met you!
