Scars

So, one close friend who read the post before last (“The Hardest Parts of Life”) said that it sounded like I really needed therapy/counseling. I had two immediate thoughts. The first was, “Yes, of course, I do! Don’t we all?!” And the second was, “What do you think my writing is?!” I said in the “Welcome” post on my blog that my primary reason for sharing what I write is to encourage people to give God a chance. Another reason, though, for the actual writing itself is much more selfish–writing is therapy for me.

I’m starting to believe more and more that some things are just always going to be painful down here, no matter how much we have of any type of “therapy.” This doesn’t mean that life does not get better though, that certain “big” and ugly things continue to overwhelm us in the same way; but it does mean that some scars will always be visible down here. Aren’t we told that even Jesus himself has scars in Heaven? So, having a few such marks on our bodies and/or our souls puts us in great company indeed.

Within the past week or so, I’ve asked for two things from anyone who has elected to read what I write and thus become part of the story I’m living out down here (that God’s living out through me really). The last thing I asked for was prayer for my high school friend who has been diagnosed with cancer of the kidneys and pancreas; and many, many of you have indicated that you read my plea for prayer and are lifting him up. Thank you! He too read the post and texted me to let me know how very much it means to him to be remembered right now.

The other thing that I asked you for was a response to my upcoming publication regarding suicide. Though none of you has yet responded publicly since that post, several of you did before. And several others of you have talked with me privately about how very much this subject needs to be addressed. I so appreciate all of your thoughts and encouragement. Just yesterday, I spoke with a lovely young woman who also lost her father to suicide. I felt an immediate connection with her, and I was so very thankful that I didn’t do what I’ve so often chosen to do in the past–I’ve chosen to not tell people how my own dad actually died. It just seemed easier to keep the manner of his death tucked out of sight.

I saw a very modern and concrete example just this morning of how we often feel forced to hide things that might make those around us feel less than comfortable. When I was at Starbuck’s really early this morning for my customary Chai tea, I noticed that my favorite barista had what looked like medical tape on her arm. I was shocked by her response when I referenced her arm and asked her if she was okay. She told me that she is actually required to cover up her tattoo while she’s at work. (Wow! Aren’t coffeehouses supposed to be rather progressive?) As I thought more about this, I couldn’t help but think about how so many of us tend to hide certain things about ourselves–especially if/when we’re in “proper” places (e.g. the Church). The track of “What would people really think of me?” can cripple us all.

And yes, I know that tattoos aren’t really scars, but the people I know who have them got them because there’s something special that they wanted to always remember down here; and they were willing to invest a certain amount of money, time and even pain to help ensure they never forget to remember. And our scars really do the same thing–they help us to never, ever forget. A really good friend texted me just a few weeks ago and told me about a song by Mandisa called “What Scars Are For.” I love Mandisa and could not wait to look up this song; and now that I’ve heard it, I listen to it several times each day. It’s pretty awesome too that this song is on her “Overcomer” CD, since the video of the song “Overcomer” features people who have overcome great physical battles; one person highlighted in the video is cancer survior and Olympic figure skater Scott Hamilton who has inspired many, including me, through his scars.

And my own scars are proof that my outspoken friend was right–I do need therapy, lots of it. And for any inquiring minds, yes, many years ago I did have what this world would call “formal” therapy, as in weekly (at times daily) sit-downs that in retrospect make me think of one of my favorite T.V. characters of all time–Monk. But, the greatest therapy I’ve discovered yet has been the unconditional love and acceptance of my God; his Grace, embodied in Christ, is the only thing that makes my scars beautiful and that makes it really hard for me to regret even one of them.

(By the way, Mandisa’s song “Dear John” is on the same CD and is really awesome too–check it out!)