Our Scars Are Beautiful

Often it feels as though this journey is a constant downhill battle, that for every win there are still a remaining twenty problems, and those problems seem to outweigh the win. It’s a fight just to notice the one jewel within the pile of coal, no matter how bright it shines! My husband is a lot better at the positivity than I am, he’ll celebrate over the small win and pray encouragingly for all that’s left to be healed. We’ve faced a wide variety of symptoms this month, many of them new and scary. I had no idea terms such as “depersonalization” and “derealization” were even popular symptoms, and that they’d leave us both scared and confused while joined with fitful sleeps, night sweats, lyme rage, kidney and lung problems on top of the usual heap of trouble. I’ve started making a motivation wall in our room so I can still see the progress even if my mind can’t.

And the truth is, my mind struggles to carry the rest of my fighting body–in fact it often lays down low right beside it. And this is huge…this fight is definitely just as much mental as it is physical. I wish someone would have warned me just how heavy it is for your mind to carry, how you’d question what was a nightmare and what was real, how the unanswered questions would wreak havoc in all the parts of your brain.

What will the residual parts of your character show after the heavy and the hard shake out everything you thought was lasting? What do you do when your mind–the most powerful and influential part of your being–faces battles of its own? How the heck do you build character when it feels like there are no building blocks to work with??

We need community. We were designed to interact and share closeness with others. We need the encouragement, the spurring on, the understanding, the advice, and the helping.

We need healthy relationships to help further our healthy selves.

And we need the stories of others to get through the struggles of ours. 

And these stories….all these stories we carry around with us, are seeped into our hearts on the inside and shown blatantly through our wrinkles and scars on the outside.

People often try to hide their scars, classifying them in the same category as their other imperfections. Some try their best to keep them completely covered.

Our scars show we lived.

They show we survived.

They show we were saved.

Whether they are ones worn on the outside or the inside, they prove we’ve made it through. 

How many people can be helped if you shared even a section of your scar? Maybe even your deepest one…the one with the greatest depth of pain…will create the greatest depth between you and another? Or maybe even show the depth of the Greatest Grace?

Vulnerability precedes connection, and connection precedes community and support.

And don’t mistake this for “sharing too much.” Vulnerability…in the right way, in the right place… can look a lot like a life laid out to show what He’s done. It’s less about exposing than it is about admitting…admitting that yes, I too, am a lot like you. Or yes, I too have run the race you’re entering. Sharing your stories can be the difference between a cheerleader on the sidelines and a partner running beside you saying…I know.

Our scars serve a purpose. 

…no one remains unscathed. We’re all a lot more alike than we are different.

Our scars serve a purpose. 

…and more often reach others way more than our smiles do.

Our scars serve a purpose. 

…our stories bring understanding, and maybe even a light, to others.

Our scars serve a purpose. 

…how many lives can we add to from what was lost from ours?

 

How many people could be encouraged by your candor, and supported through your story?

The deepest scars might be the ones you’ll find that change the most lives. Their depth matches the depth in that person’s heart, in their story, and in their purpose.

Our scars are beautiful.

 

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