I went to the dermatologist on thursday of last week. She was looking at the mole I have on my chest that I've had since I was a little girl. Now that my wild boy is getting so big, he has been scratching it and it hasn't been faring real well:) Anyway, she looked at it and then gave me a couple options. One was to remove it, but there would be a little scar.... She told me that in a kind of breaking it to me gently sort of way. As if that was going to be a big deal to me. Today in the shower while I was tending to my new "scar" I began reflecting on my opinion of scars. I have MANY. From riding my bike and falling down, from scraping my leg on a bed frame and gashing m knee, and lots more. And I decided that I like scars. I like that someone can look at your scar and be aware that, while they don't know what it is that happened to you, that something painful happened that changed you permanently. The scars that I hate are the ones inside your heart. That are so unfairly hidden from the outside world. Those scars are the hardest ones for me to deal with. I have a precious friend that says that she wishes sometimes that God had given her a limp when her baby boy died so that everyone would know that something tragic had happened that had altered her life. I feel like that so much lately. I remember right after my Jace went home, I wanted to tell everyone, even complete strangers what I was going through. That has calmed down quite a bit. But there are so many times that I just wish I had a visible, physical scar that everyone could see.......
Lydia
