I was on the line this past week at the NYC Passport Agency … more than 2 hours in 90 degree August weather … Not fun! Realized that sometimes life becomes less about living and more about waiting … So tired of waiting!
A complete stranger noticed my scar on my back, near my right shoulder blade. They asked me what happened. I was surprised because it’s been a part of me for 40+ years – I forget it’s there. I had my first cancerous tumors at six months old. Forty years ago, no one was thinking beyond me getting healthier and growing old – not worrying about scars and plastic surgery. This stranger mentioned I should look into scar revision surgery. I politely listened to them. But in my head I am thinking please leave me alone. My scars are mine and they tell my story. Some days they bring me comfort and remind me how much I have gone through and of my strength.
The quote by Steve Maraboli – resonates: My scars tell a story. They are a reminder of times when life tried to break me, but failed.
My life has been hard. It still is – most days. I deal with sadness, grief, pain, hurt, anger, loss … I struggle on a daily basis to get out of bed and just put one foot in front of the other, trying to find my purpose and my smile. I struggle to find the tenuous line between what hurts me and what heals me. I struggle in letting go of the past and keep moving forward.
So I need to see beauty in my scars. So many of us have scars – some visible, many not. Some are inside of us, some are on the outside prominently and permanently on display.
So I will show my scars … because I continue to fight and survive. I won’t hide my scars. They are my reminders that I am still alive. They serve as proof that God is forever healing me. And I will keep finding beauty in my life and sharing my story … with grace in my step and hope in my heart.