THEN. I thought about the ones unseen, the emotional/mental/spiritual ones. Man, we carry around a lot of needless baggage, don't we? I had to shake myself out of that train of thought. So I went to think about my physical scars which I don't even look at anymore, well not often. Took a long gander at each of them this morning while waiting for Robert to wake up (silly dog wanted to go out and once up I'm awake)
Turns out my earliest ones from 1966 look totally different than I remembered them looking. The one that makes my left eye look a bit skeewompus isn't noticeable much at all. But it's there, faintly. I remember finally being able to pluck on the one stitch that remained several years after the accident/surgery with a tweezers! What a day of rejoicing that was. The biggest, baddest one that used to be a raised one is no longer raised. When did that happen? When did it go down? During that year, I'll telling you I bought cocoa butter from every store and slathered myself in it. Crazy! My kidney surgery scars aren't too bad...even the one section of the one where the drain was doesn't look like I remember it. The one on my face from the cyst which was feared to be cancer isn't so horrible but obviously is there if you look...but since I can't see my face there without a mirror who knew (yesterday I returned some makeup and the Clinique lady was trying on some other shades along my jawline and I didn't even notice it til I had to). Can't see the one on my back (with or without a mirror, way too old to contort myself to see) and the ones on my leg and arm
Why am I going through this procedure of looking and remembering? I have no clue other than i might have hurt my friend's feelings yesterday. And I really hadn't thought about my scars much but I did remember how much I used to look at them and hate them. At some point early on, at least for the once-raised scar, I got over it. Marissa found a picture of me in a bikini on the beach at Atlantic City where I went with my girlfriends one summer weekend during college. Marissa freaked out to see me 1)skinny altho she didn't mention that part, thank you very much. 2) on a weekend at Atlantic City but 3)mostly because I was in a bikini. Let me say this was not the bikini of today...totally Annette Funicello. Blue gingham, lace on the bottom where today it might say PINK....I figured the rest of my kids/grands would freak out if they saw that so I tossed it out when I scanned all those pictures from BYU years and turned them into a hardcopy album. My Daddy Center didn't seem to mind that bathing suit (unless I didn't show it to him?) as much as he did the dress I bought for the all-night party after graduation and then only because it had a tag still hanging when he saw it and the tag read MINI....Wow! Did he hit the ceiling on that one but I still wore it , (thanks Mom). Suddenly I realized I probably have gotten over all those physical scars. They are just lines. I remember dressing my mom for her funeral and the staples were still on her torso from that last surgery. I HATED SEEING THOSE STAPLES STILL THERE AND IF I COULD HAVE i WOULD PULLED THEM OUT.
And then yesterday, while at Marc's I saw a man in a wheelchair and really, he had no legs but they propped something up and added slippers so he looked 'normal'. I remember looking and then looking away. Grateful that my scars are mine and that I didn't have his. Is this what the Lord does to us? Wakes us up by allowing us to use a thoughtless word and then showing us something much worse? Naturally, then I have to prey on these thoughts.
Scars....Inside ones, outside ones. Visible ones and then the ones we never see, nor the ones we don't know about, totally missing things in people, in our own very friends. Does this fall in the category of "O Remember, O Remember"? When the scars fade as mine have done, do I always forget them? Is it good to remember them or to 'take them out' and see how I feel about them now, decades later? Sunday I had to comment on one that is totally unseeable and I stunned our bishop even tho he doesn't know the details, wasn't around. Those are the way worse kind. And they recede to areas even Stephen King wouldn't venture.
So now what? What is the point of this? I don't know but I do know that Jesus Christ, tho keeping all his scars to show us at the last who He was and what He went through for us, He's the one who eliminates all the scars we have. He will pull them all out, in one gigantic PULL. And we will be left spotless too...once we get to that point. Maybe that's what I had to learn yesterday/today.