You go ahead and keep your camouflage creams—I like my scars...All of them tell my story. They remind me that God built me with the will to persist and overcome and heal and be the better for it. They all have categories.
Scars of Inexperience:
The first scar I ever remember getting was on my leg...My older brother was making his famous root beer float, and of course need it root beer and ice cream, So there I go to the store at the tender age of 6 years old, he promised to give me 10 cents, enough to buy me a coconut Popsicle...my favorite. Coming back from the store, I was not paying attention, that’s when I step too close to the edge of the stairs and slip so hard that my hand let go of the bottle of root beer, doing a swift jump and cutting my leg in one motion, making it look like my leg was smiling...to say the least, I passed out, blood and children don’t go together. After a terrible doctor visit and my not staying still, the stitches became lose and there it is, the big scar on my right leg…Lesson here: slow down...
Scars of Karma:
There is also the scar in my left eyebrow, that I got from running real fast and sliding on my mother’s marble floors escaping a beating I was about to get for fighting with the neighbor’s kid, I got mad at her, and gave her a black eye. All I remember after that episode was, waking up at the hospital, with a huge headache and stitches on my left eyebrow...my mom felt bad and postpone the spanking until the following week. Lesson here: Never buy pointy furniture when you have young kids…
Scars of Stupidity:
When I was a teenager I took on ironing my own clothes (not recommended) my mom forgot to warm me that I can actually hurt myself, so there I was trying to get that perfect outfit flat and pretty, when I kick the bottom of the board and here comes that iron, flying and hitting my left leg, leaving toasted skin and one screaming teenager… Lesson here: that scar reminds me to work really hard so that I can hired people to do this for me, or to pay attention around hot things...though the scar is now faded a bit, I can still see it.
Scars of Misfortune:
I have another 1 to 2 inch scar right underneath my right breast...thanks to a life saving operation to removed my gall bladder. When I look at those scars, it reminds me how lucky I am to be alive and though it was a long recovery...it changed my life forever.
Scars of Blessing:
And then there is the mother of all scars, the one that put and end to my bikini days and the beginning of a life far better than any day at the beach. When I look back at it, I recall the day, when my daughter was pulled from the safe haven of my body and into this world, where she would begin the story of her own life. And collect her own scars.
Taylor
