A scar is a mark left on the skin or within body tissue where a wound, burn, or sore has not healed completely and fibrous connective tissue has developed.
Scars exist in my soul. I wish there were a magical cure for the damage I lived through, but this just isn’t the case. While it is a true miracle to be who I am after everything I have endured, that doesn’t mean that the woeful neglect and suffering of my childhood didn’t leave some scarring.
The only scars in heaven will be my Savior’s, but that is one day — not this day.
Sometimes I am still uncertain what the future holds. Most days I dream solidly of God’s blessings. Some days I am stilled with the hunt of days gone by.
What do I mean?
Grief filled days where I could barely move. Jesters from my childhood mocking me with their lies and stuffing me with their pretenses. I live most days free from all of that now. It is, however, a haunting that tries to breeze through me.
The lack of apparent justice for these clowns is yet another brutal reality.
I am sure of this — my eyes will live to see the love and justice of God extended to me and my immediate family.
I have been patient. I have waited and listened for the guidance of an eternal Father that leads me into quiet places. To be sure, scars still remain. Maybe what I’m sharing is the reality of living through carnage.
This side of eternity I’m certainly being healed, but some damage remains. Isn’t that the reality of it? This doesn’t frighten me, rather it helps set me free. An expectation that blessings are in front of me, also some remnants of sufferings.
Isn’t that truly the human condition?
That is enough for me.