It’s fully four inches long and runs from the center of my palm up the inside of my wrist, skimming the vein. Pooh, a part Siamese from years past, sat on the kitchen counter, focused on something invisible in the sink. So focused that when I picked him up, he went beserk. And I dripped blood everywhere.
I remember.
An inch long below my left knee and a couple of puncture wounds. From surgery due to a severed ACL–from a Cocoa Beach wave that knocked me off balance while I splashed in the shallows. We had just returned from a cruise and still had a couple days of vacation in Florida before we drove back to Michigan. Our car broke down on the way home and left us stranded in Kentucky for two extra days.
I remember.
On my belly. From an ovarian cyst. From reconstructive tubal surgery in our quest for a baby. From a tubal pregnancy. From which I came close to not surviving. Two of the scars run perpendicular to each other and remind me of a cross. I used to be able to see it better when I looked down. I also have scars from a gallbladder removal that remind me of the Grand Hotel and hiking around Mackinac Island and concern about every twinge of discomfort and my daughter’s phone call telling me I had an appointment with a surgeon.
I remember.
Still. All over. Especially on my legs. From liquid nitrogen spray. Memories of several trips to the dermatologist last year that left me looking like I had chicken pox. Skin lesions zapped, leaving–well, skin lesions. And the hole in my hairline from the excision of a blue nevus, and then a deeper excision.
I remember.
On my heart. From hurts endured. From hurts inflicted. That I allowed to be inflicted. Through decisions I made. Out of love and desperation. Yet out of stupidity. That caused life-changing scars for someone I love. Toughened scars. But tender still. Very tender. Memories I want to forget. Wipe away. But I can’t. And I weep sometimes in the night. And in the day.
I remember.
But I don’t want to.
On His back and on His head and in His wrists and in His feet and in His side. Inflicted from stupidity. And from greed. And from jealousy. And from hate. Yet self-inflicted. Out of love. Because He was desperate. For me.
He remembers.
Me.
Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King
I'm not going to go into any "scar" detail… physically and emotionally have piles upon piles, both given and received.
HOWEVER, one of my very favorite verses is the one you listed and I love it in the Amplified: Behold, I have indelibly imprinted (tattooed) a picture of you on the palm of each of My hands..
There are times when just knowing that is all I need to know.
I LOVE that version. That's so much for sharing it.
Such a beautiful post. Thanks so much for sharing your scars and reminding us about His scars. Humbling. Undeserving. Yet given as a gift.
I have one on my left elbow — where surgery was done to get at what might be bone cancer. I have one on my chin, where I fell in high school and had to get stitches. And one on my ankle from when I was 12 and a kid rammed my bike. But they're nothing in comparison.
wow, this is so great to read today! Thank you for this visit to your blog 🙂 I have felt vulnerable lately in the same areas of inner strength and so this is such a great reminder today at the right timing, to snuggle in closer to the One who completely understands! Big love, Jenn
@Lisa: Thank you. And yet even our scars are His gift to us.
@Glynn: Your chin scar reminds me of my son's. He got that one chinning himself on the dining room buffet. I remember the EMT in the ER making him sign (in his own scribble as he was a little tike) that he'd never chin himself again. That was one of many ER visits with both our kids.
Hi Jenn! I'm glad you stopped in today! I love His timing. And I love the snuggle time with Him, too! Hugs.
I have this scar… on my back, but you already know about that one.
This was a beautiful post. I loved the closing thoughts.
such a beautiful post…makes me feel guilty even mentioning my only real scar-a whitish patch of hairless skin just below my right knee from years of sliding while playing baseball…strawberries we called them back then because of the blood that festered from the abrasion. About the time they would crust over good I would slide again and tear it off. Now, all that's left is the empty patch where fruit once lived…miss those days…
@Duane: That scar is a holy scar.
http://duane-scott.net/in-case-you-missed-it/
@Jeff: Thanks.
Owwwie on the strawberry. I've seen some wicked slides lately. Do the big league guys wear something to protect themselves?
Joanne and I were discussing this verse just a couple of days ago and the beauty of His bearing our pain. My scars … a road map of mishap and recovery … sorta. Some scars hide irreversible damage.
Heck,
My nine year old son has sliding pants that he wears under his regular pants. they cover the backside well, but not the knees. Me? My parents couldn't afford regular britches much less the sliding pants:) I can hear my dad calling me "sissy pants" right now.
@Susan: I hear ya. So glad His grace provides a balm to soften the damage.
@Jeff: Or "sissy pantless." So the "big boys" must wear something–but it must be so hot! I don't know how they can stand to wear so much (even undershirts under their jerseys) and not totally pass out in 90-degree weather!
I'm covered with scars, from the strawberries Jeff mentioned (we got some of those on the same ballfield at the same time, I believe) to others. I used to hate them. Now I think they help to make me who I am.
Loved this post, Sandra.
i have that c-section scar that many women carry with them and i complained about it – once – to my husband who said, "That's not a scar. It's a badge of honor."
sweet man, that one. i wear that badge proudly.
Touching. Your voice is so poetic. This moved me.
@Billy: So you and Jeff are strawberry brothers. Scars do tell a story.
@Deidre: Badge of honor. Badge of love. Indeed! My daughter has one of those now, too.
@Jill: Ooooh. You've touched me. Thanks.
What a beautiful, well written post that brought tears to my eyes! Thank you, and bless you, Sandra.
From Brenda (cuz word verification didn't work for her):
"I don't think you really want to know where all of my scars are, so I'll skip that to say that I loved this post. :))"
Posted by Kelly Langner Sauer today on my “old” blog:
I am glad this was featured at HCB today; I missed it in my Reader earlier this week – it’s been a week. Do you really think He was so desperate for us? Love like that, from God who is sufficient in Himself – it makes you think, makes you feel…
Thank you for this.
*****
I’m stunned.
Here’s the link to last month’s other featured posts: Around the Network–Apologies, Intimacy, and Business
Sandra,
what a beautiful and moving post. Very humbling. and, o course, you have me thinking about all of my scars too.So small compared to what He gave.
Yes. So small in comparison.
Bringing posts over from Beholding God because I don’t want to lose them.
From Angel @ Finding The Inspiring: Great post. We are all scarred in some way, aren’t we? And how beautiful the reminder of the other scars–the ones He bore and the ones that speak of His great love for us.
From Karen Swim: Oh, Sandra, such a beautiful love song to the One who bore the ultimate scars! I will never look at an injury the same way again.
From Meredith Gould: Wow. Brenda Finkle sent your deeply moving post around to the Virtual Abbey prayer team and I’m so blessed that she did.
From Anne Lang Bundy: Snady, I have to wonder, because much of what you’re writing about these days seems to mirror what I’m working on. I’ve already written a post for the “Laughter” blog carnival that makes your scars tangible across the internet. (But then, we’re not so many miles apart, are we?)
PS ~ I seem to have missed the news of a new site before now. I’m glad to have caught that and just added it to my RSS feed. Whew! 😉
From me: I am so touched–and amazed that the posts that seem to pour out seem to touch others the most.
When I combine the visible and invisible scars, they are many. Yes, as Laura mentioned, nothing in comparison to what He suffered. For us.
What a great piece of writing, Sandra. My physical scars are aplenty and like you, each has a story. My heart-n-soul scars? Well, those are no more for they have been covered in the healing balm of Jesus.
Blessings.