A re-post from 2 years back, slightly modified.
It still speaks.
“Our scars remind us that the past is real..” – Papa Roach
I remember the exact moment – driving down the road – when that song came on & I was so struck by the lyrics.
(Yes I am a rocker at heart..)
And consequently, a post was born.
I can be inspired by just about anything.
What of scars anyway?
In order for there to be a scar there must have been a wound first. Over time it begins to heal but eventually leaves a trace behind of what was.
Some scars are bigger than others – some more jagged, longer, shorter. Each tells a story – some of bravery, heroism, cancer, addiction, mistakes, blunders, attacks.
Some are there because the person just wanted to inflict a greater pain to mask the one they are internally drowning in.
We all have them in varying degrees.
I have 3 on my abdomen from a shooting accident when I was a wee 11 years young that came within centimeters of taking my life.
One on my right thumb where my Dad slammed the car door on my hand when I was trying to get out.
And a chicken pox scar under my left eye & on my chest.
To name a few.
The internal scars, the ones unseen to the naked eye –
Those are my worst ones.
Scars of feeling abandoned, rape, molestation, promiscuity, the abyss of shame, verbal & physical abuse, drug abuse. Of feeling rejected & un-loved & frankly, bat-sh*t crazy sometimes. And believing no one understands.
Of unrequited love. Of feeling completely alone in the dark, no matter how much light & people were around me.
Once more, to name a few.
I look back on my life & all I have endured –
And it amazes me that I am still here.
I am truly a walking miracle.
Bedraggled at times, but a miracle nonetheless.
Only God gets the credit for it-
He made me, He saved me, He keeps me. I take no credit.
I do not deserve any of it.
In fact, when people tell me “Bonnie, you deserve (this) or (that)….” I can’t ever agree. It’s my belief that anything good in me or in my life is God. The rest is just rubbish. That’s how I feel.
Please don’t leave comments telling me otherwise. *Big hug*..
Regardless, the salve of His great love for me –
The scars He bore for me – they have bound up my wounds.
His mercy has drowned my shame.
His grace enables me to keep getting up, to have hope even when it runs down to almost zero sometimes.
His grace also takes the ashes of experience & turns them for good –
In lending a shoulder or hand to the lost & dying inside.
To somehow help turn scars into badges of beauty, victory, triumph & gratitude.
Scars. I am thankful for all of mine. Every. Single. One.
Much love & transformation to yours,
(image courtesy of screenhunter)