Scars

We all have them. Some of us more than others. Some are unnoticeable. Some are eyesores. Some are cool designs and we've tried to replicate them so we're symmetrical (what?! who's done that?!). Some we forget about until someone points them out, but usually we remember. We remember what happened, where it happened, who pushed you down the stairs, and why you were fighting next to the stairs in the first place.

I have a ton of scars--mostly because I'm semi-accident prone and played too many sports. But I remember what my scars are from. Left elbow--Chibi-K race when I was maybe 5 years old and I tripped out of the starting line and all the kids behind me ran over me (there's a video to prove it). Right pinky knuckle--bike ride with Mom before school and I hit a garden hose and ate it in a housing development driveway. Strange webbing between left thumb and left pointer finger--palm fraun (frawn?) accident in 4th grade (don't ask).

I recently had an accident...in my shower. And by recently, I mean it's been 3.5 weeks. I managed to gouge out a chunk of my left pinky knuckle one Wednesday night while showering. It bled...a lot. It was deep. It hurt. I taped more wads of tissue paper to the back of my left hand than I have in the year that I've lived here. It bled for a couple days. I lathered it in Neosporin and slapped a Bandaid on before I went to work every morning. My Bible study prayed over my wound. Finally after a week, a scab formed.

I'm a scab picker. I don't know why, but I do. I know most people think it's gross, and it is, and it probably is the reason why I have so many scars to begin with. But I knew this wound was deep. In fact, for 10 days, every time I took the bandage off to take a shower it would bleed, like it knew that's where it had been ripped apart. I decided to be patient and let it heal. I was careful not to snag it on shirts and jackets. I always put a bandage on it before I put my work gloves on to help Pegleg with the gardening. But it still hurt and was still tender, and I noticed it all the time.

The scab finally fell off though. I looked at the scab this morning at church wondering when it would fall off. I pushed on the top of the scab and the wound was still tender. I let it be. While I was sitting on my couch reading my Kindle after a long Sunday, I looked down and noticed the scab was gone. I didn't notice it fell off, but my wound is finally healed.

I have wounds on my heart. We all do. Some have taken longer to heal than others. Some are still quite fresh, painful, and fleshy. Some are scabbing over, and we're doing everything we possibly can to keep the scab from being ripped off. Some are infected, and bitterness and anger and despair have surfaced. Some are scars--reminding us the wound happened and sometimes it still hurts but usually reminds us to not be so careless next time.

I think wounds on the heart, like the one on my hand from my freak shower accident, take time to heal. Heart wounds take time and patience. They take prayer. They take bandaids in the forms of hugs from your closest friends and shoulders to cry on so hard that sometimes you get your snot all over their shoulder and new jacket. They take begging Jesus to take away the infection and to erase the memories of the wound and the pain and everything associated with it. They often take many nights of tear-soaked pillows wondering when or if it'll ever stop hurting.

But wounds heal. They do. Not because I forced my left hand to form a scab and send little white blood cells and other biological things to mend the flesh. I never told my hand to stop bleeding after 3 days. It healed on its own because that's what wounds do.

I have heart wounds that are still healing. And this week, I know that one wound in particular is pretty sensitive. I am reminded this week that wound happened and it still hurts, but healing will come. I know healing is coming and it's happening, but the wound still hurts years later. I am aware there will be lots of tears this week and nights curled up in a ball begging Jesus to make it all go away. I know my heart is healing and I'm in a much better place now than I was when I first allowed Jesus to begin healing my heart. 1 Peter 2:24 says, "By His wounds you have been healed." Present perfect progressive tense (have been healed) describes an action (healing) that began in the past, continues in the present, and may continue into the future. I know healing will come because healing started and continues today and will continue tomorrow. And this heart wound will one day be a scar, and I will remember how my Healer healed my heart.

"Scars also remind us that healing is possible, healing happened, and healing is freely given."--a sister's comment on my Facebook status