I’m covered in bruises, scrapes, and dirt and I’m feeling more beautiful and alive then ever.
My body tells a story.
The story of ups and downs, of tears and laughter, & of long hard days and moments of pure innocent joy that explain more than words can.
The scrapes on my legs are from walking Water Buffalos through the rice paddies in the midday heat and jumping off rock quarries after a hard days work is done.
The bruises are from carrying many buckets of septic water around the farm to use as fertilizer every morning.
The dirt covering my body is from hours in the sun building a hut for a man who just got divorced and needs a place to stay.
The blisters on my hands are from cutting down bamboo trees with a machete to use as the foundation of the hut.
Paint covers my clothes from fixing up and painting an old run down house for a young man who got out of prison and needs a place to stay and open up his own mechanical shop at.
Ant bites cover my feet from carrying piles of wood infested with them from a mans’ yard so that he could plant a garden.
Sweat soaking my clothes from uprooting banana trees so that new growth can happen.
& the bug bites from endless nights worshiping a God that makes it all worth it.
So I’m proud of all the scrapes, bruises, and dirt that cover my body daily because it tells an amazing story that only God can dream up and write about.
& I am just grateful He picked me to be able to live it.
I wrote this last night as the rain was pounding on the tin roof. I wrote it because as I’m looking down at all my scrapes and scratches I am proud of what they mean, I’m proud that they mean I left my comforts to follow God and His plan. The dirt under my nails remind me of what’s important and the things I should value. I’m just proud of how dirty I am, how beat up I am and just how happy that makes me do know God is using me and my body to do His will. My hands are working for Him and when that’s the case you can’t ever not create something beautiful. So I wrote it because I was starting to feel self conscious about all the scratches and bruises I had all over my body, but then I started thinking about it and the marks became an honor for me to wear. God just changed my perspective on it all and I could see such beauty where once ashes laid. It’s never my story anyways because I’m just a tree in a story about a forest.
“He took two broken people and showed us the scars on His hands and whispered that it was okay if we had scars too, because the scars were always meant to draw us into His glory.” Katie Davis
