scars

When my daughter was barely 2 yrs old, she took off at her best toddling speed on an unfortunately gravelly path.  Before her grandmother could catch her, she had tumbled face forward.  Shaken to see her innocent face smeared with blood, dirt & tears, I was quickly summoned.  As I held her to assess the damage, her little hands tried to rub away the pain of an open gash between her upper lip & her nose.

 

Too eager to play to get fully cleaned up from dinner before the frolicking began, reflex now sent her hands to the wound, grimy with dirt and remains of spaghetti sauce.

 

Other than not being able to prevent this pain in the first place, the most difficult thing for me was having to gently pry her little hands away from the injury.  I tried to explain as best I could in two year old terms that we needed to clean the wound & not to hurt it more.  I secured her arms as she bravely allowed the nurse to disinfect the area & apply a “butterfly” bandage.  Tears finally stalled when she saw her face with the butterfly “mustache” in the mirror.  Amused, she smiled at herself, which stretched at the gap above her lip, re-activating the pain, beginning the crying & hand restraint all over again.

 

As difficult as that was, I sensed God speaking to me & showing me a lesson in it.

Like a download of understanding, I could sense His compassion toward me, toward us, His kids.  I saw how I had been the child, hurting & trying with my own inadequate hands to fix my pain, often exposing myself to more injury & infection.  Less trusting than my daughter had been, I had even flailed out, hurting others in my attempts to “help” myself.

 

I saw His constraining love as a parent. Suddenly I could appreciate the necessity of Him asking of me what I might be too limited to comprehend in this earthly realm; to trust Him in the process beyond my natural impulse to fix things according to my own understanding.

 

Born this side of heaven while made for glorious eternity, life can seem unfair.  My biggest battles seem to be curbing my childish attempts to manage my own impulses… anger, selfishness, envy, pride, lust, gluttony… Thankfully, even through the pain I have caused myself & others, His longsuffering nature still beckons me to return my focus to Him.  The more times I opt to be still, look to Him, & wait to see Him work, His healing comes to my body & soul.  His purposes become more & more clear.

 

A dozen years later after the incident, my daughter is left with little more than a small scar that I see as a “beauty mark” above her lip.  This & many other scars in my own life remind me of the understanding I received in those moments, the message He has now, several times over, written on me.  I am getting more used to being still & allowing Him to comfort & secure me.  He has cleaned & dressed many wounds in me, & drawn my sight to a higher place from which to see the healing taking place, to see Him work.  I am beginning to see His reflection, a new creation, the new me! …With some beautiful scars, & stories of healing to tell…

 

Respectfully,

RMH