Scars

 

               I woke up from a dream this morning that was pretty vivid. I was with two old friends, and for some reason I could see the top of their backs, I don’t remember what they were wearing exactly, but I could see scars, o. n both of them, on their backs. I couldn’t help but notice and wonder, and think, well, I guess we all have scars and things that make us… and at that moment one friend said, Stace, when are you going to show us your scars? I was taken aback, like, whoa did she read my mind, and on the spot I was thinking, I don’t think I have scars like yours, like on my back, so I was like, well, there’s a scar from where I had my tongue ring, if I can find it… I was wondering what she wanted me to show them, but also, part of me desperately wanted to show my scars, all of them, to be laid bare before people I trusted, to be known.

               Scars. All of us have them. Acne scars, stretch marks, deep gashes from childhood, surgical scars, you name it, someone has a scar from it. Even shark bites and bullet wounds and lightning strikes. Scars make us human. But, I want to focus on sharing some of my deeper, emotional scars. There’s plenty, I’m sure, that I could go into. I’ll stop with three though and go from there.

               I have scars from my dad committing suicide when I was six years old. Even though part of me wants to believe it was an accident, the evidence around him pointed to it having been planned. That’s pretty rough to think about, even now. Was I not worth it for him to stick around and be my daddy? It makes me question my worth, and my value to others. At points in my own life I’ve felt suicidal, and I can see how it could be a chain reaction within a family very easily. I grieve at different points, and I picked up grieving shortly after leaving the hospital this past February. I don’t know if I’ve fully processed yet what happened. In college one summer I spent a lot of time in counseling with someone at my church who helped me work through a lot. But, I needed a father in a different way as a college student than as I need one now, as almost 40 adult. So, a new season of grief makes sense. Anyhow, I think when someone you love dies, regardless of the cause, it leaves a scar. You miss that person terribly and life will never be the same from that point on.

               I have scars from my mom, as well. Not that she was a bad mom, she was a great mom in some ways, not perfect by any means, but just the right mom that I needed. But… my mom is handicapped, which wouldn’t be a big deal in itself, except honestly, it has handicapped my life as well. I’d planned on going to the foreign mission field for years, I’m actually willing to go and would go to places others haven’t been, but, I can’t just leave my mom by herself with no one to take care of her. I would have stayed in Colorado so much longer, maybe the rest of my life, if it hadn’t been that I would be leaving her alone all the time. It’s interesting, mom and I were talking about how things would be different if dad hadn’t died the other night. So many things, but, we don’t think she’d be as extremely bad physically, because she neglected herself in order to take care of my brother and I when we were young, and if dad had been around, he would not have allowed that to happen. And obviously he’d be here to take care of my mom, so I would be free to go wherever the Lord led. So… I guess the scars are from having to take care of my mom at such a young age, feeling like I’ve given up so many of my dreams to care for her.

               I lost a dear friendship somewhat recently.  Well, I guess two years ago is when things ended. She was a good friend. She was my best good friend, we weren’t best friends, even though I told her one time in the hospital she was my bestest bestest friend. We walked though many seasons of life together. Middle and high school, college, when we did different ministries for a year out of college, moving back to Winston-Salem together… I watched her grow in admiration at church, I was there for her meeting her husband, her marriage, her having her firstborn. She was there for three hospitalizations for me. I never thought there’d be a point we just wouldn’t be friends anymore. But, I had put her on a pedestal that was too high, and she was tired of trying to stay on it for me. The secular word is codependent… which I learned from my relationship with my mom, so scars blend into each other… the biblical term is idolatry. I put her friendship in the place of God, and she called me out for it being too unhealthy, and ended things.

               I didn’t take it well. Shortly after that, I went to a partial hospitalization program for five weeks. Well I had a lot of issues going on, my mom says she knew I’d needed help for a while. But, losing her was the icing on the cake, so to speak. It triggered all kinds of issues in me. Insecurities. I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to just completely let go of this one. It feels more like an open wound than a scar still. There’s so much I wish I could go back and re-do. It’s over now, though. I was thinking about how, there’s this guy I’d had a crush on for 11 years, and we were friends, good friends, and I kept waiting for him to make a move, and finally realized he doesn’t want me that way. (That might be another scar.) So I withdrew. You can’t force yourself on someone. I couldn’t force myself on him, and I can’t force myself on her.  Maybe what’s sad is, she’s someone I did trust to show my scars to, but now, the number of friends I have that I trust to share my scars with has dwindled to… I don’t know that I have any old friends left, telling people they got the MOTB makes things awkward, leaving your old church and community after years makes things awkward… I have one new friend from the partial hospitalization program I’ve kept up with that, both of us find ourselves in need of each other. So, that’s  at least one. I’ve got a few mentor figures at my church, but, not that I’m super close with yet. And you can never use silver to replace a gold friend. I can’t re-live those moments of my life with anyone else.

               Thankfully, I don’t bear my scars alone.

               ⁵ But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. Isaiah 53:5

               I think about the cost of the scars that Jesus bears, and I get overwhelmed. My sin alone seems too great a load for someone, and He took on the sins of the whole world on the cross. His scars are what bring us life.

               There is something very comforting about the God of the universe now abiding in us through the Holy Spirit and walking through our lives with us to heal us when we sustain the wounds life throws our way. We’re never alone in what we walk through. The things that hurt us the most now won’t always feel that way. But in the moment, they keep us leaning all the more closely upon Him to get through the pain. For that truth alone, for anything that keeps me relying more fully upon Christ, I am grateful for the scars. I look forward to one day not having any scars, but this side of eternity I’ll accept them with a heart of praise.

               And if you ask, I just might show you my scars.