I have one on my chest from when I was a baby, I was born too fast and it left a hole in one of my lungs.
I have one on my left elbow from the time I decided to play Evil Knievel with my bike and a hill when I was 8.
I have one on my shin from slipping on the stairs of a diving board when I was 9.
I have one on my face from when I was 13; I got hit in the face with a golf club. Most can see a scrape but it’s actually a scar from where my stitches were.
I have another one right above my diving board scar. This one is from a train seat. It was dark, and in the aisle are seats you can sit at and watch out the window. The train came to an abrupt stop as I was walking back to my seat causing me to trip, and gauge my shin pretty bad. I thought it would heal on its own but now there is a pretty significant scar.
I spent years trying every cream I could get my hands on to lesson the severity of the one on my face considering it’s the first thing people see. But, the more scars I’ve gotten, the more I’ve come to realize what a testimony they are to my story; we each have our own scars that tell our own unique stories.
I have plenty on the inside, from a heartbreak when I was 18, from when I was bullied in middle school, lied to, from broken promises and secrets told that were not kept secrets.
In the moment, there was pain, but now all that is left is a memory.
My scars tell a story and so do yours. Don’t be ashamed or try to hide them, they are just evidence that whatever was trying to hurt us didn’t succeed.
Whether they are scars on the inside or visible to those around you, don’t be ashamed of them. They represent strength, bravery, and courage.
Everyone has scars.
Everyone has a story.
See the beauty in your scars and be encouraged that they are intricately woven into the story of your life.
He heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds
Psalm 147:3
