Scars

All the inspiration and motivation in the world can’t take away the pain I feel. Sure, it might mask it or even temporarily replace it, but it can’t heal it. “Fake it ‘til you make it,” I do. And as easy as I pretend it to be, it’s not. Yes, I’m a very positive, happy-go-lucky, optimistic, faith-bound person, but that doesn’t mean that the pain isn’t very real. Every day.

“Scars remind us where we’ve been. They don’t have to dictate where we’re going.” Ain’t that the truth. But how many people know the story behind those scars? “Not all scars show. Not all wounds heal. Sometimes you can’t see the pain someone feels.”

“God will not look you over for medals, degrees or diplomas, but for scars.” God must have always been able to see me then. I do believe that God never lets me out of his site. Never once has He left my side, or abandoned me. He has watched over me more any parent has. He’s protected me and kept me safe more than I could ever do for myself. I’ve always considered myself a good-luck charm; all this time I should have been giving God the credit. I don’t understand what’s so special about me, but it seems to run in the family. Blessed is what I really am, not lucky. Lucky is just the word I use to explain God’s magic.

God is the only one who can take away my pain, but I’m not sure if that’s what he is supposed to do. He wants me to heal on my own. What good are scars if you never learn? Repetition leads to open wounds and blood loss - death. Scars save and heal those wounds, but they kept the pain inside along with the blood. The pain has to go somewhere. Give it to God, so He can take it away, right? Give it to God, and God will return it with strength. As strong as I am, there was a price to pay. A reasonable, just, fair price, worth the cost. But I still had to pay. And pay I did. Pay I may always do.

Strength for pain? I’d say that’s better than any Black Friday deal out there.