Scars

I know. It's just about the most adorable little left foot you've ever seen. The toes, the shape, the tiny size...I couldn't agree more. I love love love those feet. 

See that little circular scar? She came like that. I don't know it's story. I have no idea. Maybe someone from New Day will read this and enlighten me, but until then I'm left to my imagination, which - if you've read this blog at all - you know, my imagination is top notch; dare I say, academy award winning (if there were such a category). 

I can't believe that today is the first time Grace ever noticed that scar on her foot. But today she did a double take, looked closer, asked me for a baby wipe and proceeded to begin trying, over and over again, to wipe it away. 

{tears} 

I sat mystified for a moment. Then pulled up my pant leg so that I could show her that I had one too. It's from a day when I was at my grandma's {I called her Putsy} house. I must have been about 11 almost 12. I know that because I was at her house while my younger brother was in Chicago at the children's hospital having a heart cath. He was a heart baby too. He was four, it was summertime, so that must mean I was 11 and almost 12. 

Anyway I tripped, and I fell on a wooden piece of trim that edged the patio stone slab, and gashed my knee wide open. It was the worst cut I had ever had. It bled and bled and my sweet grandma was so nurturing and tender with me and took good care of me. I remember the details so clearly, it may as well have been yesterday. I can hardly remember what I walk into Target for on any given day - but the day I got my scar - that I remember. 

Scars often have stories. Some bring back fond memories - others just the opposite. Some scars, we would love nothing more than to erase them and their story from memory. 

As Grace examined the scar on my knee I told her my scar story. I told her it was an owwa and my grandma helped me and it got better and now I have a scar just like she has, and it's ok. It's all better now. She kissed my knee, and gently stroked the scar, and then tried to wipe it off with her baby wipe. 

Icannoteven.

When that didn't work she went back to her foot. Wiping and wiping to no avail. 

"It's ok, I said. It's all better. It was an owwie but now it's better! Yay!"

"Yay!" She said clapping. 

For some, scars are painful reminders whether they be hysical scars, emotional scars, or spiritual scars. They leave a lasting mark of vulnerability, brokenness, perhaps loss. But every scar, whether we know their story or not, tells a story of healing and another chance, and growth. Healing should never be wiped away. Healing should always be celebrated. Scars don't appear moments or even days after a wound. It takes weeks, sometimes months for a scar's appearance to finalize and the healing to be complete. 

What does your scar's story remind you of? I hope it's one of healing and overcoming. I hope one day, the much larger scar on Grace's chest will remind her of the miracles in her story. I hope it will serve as a daily reminder that her life has purpose and value and worth. 

Maybe every scar should remind us that we have purpose and value and worth. 

"Yay"