A scar is born

Oh the culdesac... who wouldn't want to grow up living near the culdesac? At any moment you could meet a new friend, start up a game of kickball, break out the sidewalk chalk or just spin around for no reason.  For her, it was the perfect place to master the art of the life without training wheels.  When she woke up that morning, it was already decided what she would do.  She had HER plan... it would be easy - it had to be... after all, the 26 other neighborhood kids could do it perfectly, and without problems. 

The wound.

There she went, one time around - a little wobbly - but still... she was doing it!  

Then it happened - the tumble seemed to happen in slow motion.  At first, she had to blink her eyes to make sure it really had just happened.  The knee hit the ground first, followed by the palms of her hands.  Somehow, the hands made it out out ok, but the knee... that's a different story.  In the initial shock of it all, there wasn't any pain.  The pain wasn't real until she looked down.  The sight of blood, gravel and open flesh opened the floodgates, and the tears fell.  Would the tears ever stop? Her cry went out for anyone - but mostly for the one she loves most.

The sting.

A few hours go by, and more time goes between the tears.  But - there are still tears.  And almost, for a second there - being engulfed with a song and a favorite snack - she forgets what happened.  Until - with a swift turn from the chair - the knee bumps the table; and then comes the sting.  Immediately, all of the pain rushes right back.  The evening moves ahead as planned - but she knows what lies ahead.  The part of the evening she used to look forward to most - is now what she dreads more than anything - bath time.  She thinks to herself while squeezing her mom's hand: "Should I lower the knee gently - or should I dunk it real fast?"  Either way, the sting will be fierce and will do nothing more but remind her of the fall she wishes she could forget.  More tears fall. and fall.  Why does it have to sting?  Will the pain ever stop?

The scab.

Some days pass, and the knee has seen it's share of boo-boo kisses, band-aids and bath-time stings.  She looks down and realizes it's been awhile since she thought about that fall that met her knee.  She notices something else when she looks down.  A hard 'shell' has now covered what the gravel tore open.  The blood that caused the first tears to fall has combined with other fluids to form a protective barrier - the scab.  "What an ugly mess!", she thinks.  But little does she know that below the surface, the wound is being allowed to heal, vessels are being repaired and infection is being killed.  Her mom reminds her time and time again to leave the scab alone - it will go away when the time is right.  "Pulling a scab off before it's ready will lengthen the healing process" mom says.  So she just kept reminding herself:  "There is a reason for this - there IS a reason for this".  Days go by until finally, one morning, the covers are pulled back and the scab is gone. "Oh no" she screamed.  What now?

The scar. 

She looked at the fresh pink skin that had formed under where the scab had spent it's days.  The pain-marked spot on her knee stood out from all the other skin around it.  Her mom had told her there would most likely be a scar.  And a scar there was.  Gone were the days of her flawless past and un-touched skin.  She went from being the girl who had never experienced anything to the girl who had overcome something.  Her scar had given her a story.  And four months later she realized why.  The door flung open and in ran a bleeding elbow, a horrific cry and a little sister who didn't know what to do.  Moments later... there were hugs, dried up tears and words of comfort from a sister who had once fallen too, and she could hardly believe herself as the words came out - but it was life-lived truth as she said it... "I know that it hurts now, but it's going to be okay".  A glance down at her own knee now scarred, she thought, yes - it won't ever be the same, but it WILL be okay.  

 .....

Years will follow with more wounds followed by stings followed by scabs and then left with scars - but in those healing moments - even the pain-filled-will-this-ever-stop moments there's a pen writing a story.  

I started this post two years ago and kept getting frustrated because I couldn't get past 'the sting'.  I had endless words to describe 'the wound' and 'the sting' - but I couldn't go any farther than that.  

Until this morning.  

When I realized as my own tears fell - Two years ago, I couldn't write anything farther than the sting because I hadn't yet healed past that point.  As I finally finish this 2 year long post - I can say that I've learned that - every wound has a process.  A time where it stings, a time of band-aids and nurturing and protection over what was cut open... but - when the time comes, a scar will remain, and I wonder... what if the only 'bad scars' are the ones that we let shame us?  

Because, if my scars tell a story and your scars tell a story and there is STILL power in the blood and the word of our testimony - then together we can share our scars and tell our stories to those who may have just been wounded.  

We can tell our stories to those who think that 'the sting' will never go away, and we can tell them through our tear-filled-hugs, and chicken noodle soup, and our prayers and our hands-held-tight and say without saying: it may not ever be the same, but it will be okay and I will NOT let you go through this alone.

Maybe that's where healing scars are born???

Be blessed.