Scars Should Be Called Stories

Scars should be called stories because that is what they are worth

A boy proudly showing off the scrape on his knee

But you see when we grow up and call ourselves adults we hide the scars and shove the stories deep in our closets . . .

We cover our wrists and say, “It’s okay, I’ll live to fight another day,”

But we won’t, not if we let our wounds fester,

But we can’t let them air so we can heal because we care too much about our dirty laundry,

Well guess what, everyone else has their own dirt so stop flirting with Rationalization because he will ruin you.

Stories need told and if scars are stories, no matter how old, then they need shared not covered. Others can learn from you, feel comfort in knowing that they are not alone.

You have scars but they say, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” and it feels like it is killing you. More like death than strength. Your breath is labored with pain; it’s insane to live this way.

But there is hope because before there were your scars, there were His scars.

His scars bring healing more than hurt, and love more than desertion.

And believe me the story of those scars is more beautiful than handful of cheap lies.

The hands that formed the earth took nails, and the head that thought it all up was embedded with thorns.

So though I am broken, I have hope

And though I am marred, I have love

And though I am damaged, I have joy

And though I am stained, I have scars.

Look at the scrape on my knee or wrist or back or face.

Scars should be called stories because that is what they are worth.