Today I have been thinking about scars. They say: ‘Chicks dig scars’. We’ll, maybe, but that doesn’t refer to their own. I’ve often wondered why we get them but I think they serve as a reminder to not do the foolish things that left you with the scar.
Not all scars are of our own making. Not all scars are physical.
Sometimes injuries are inflicted on us through no fault of our own. Someone else initiates the scar. It’s upsetting to me, to say the least, because of the time it takes to heal and forgive.
Sometimes we get injured as children (and adults) by people who, with their own problems, have no intention or, possibly, even a clue that they have injured us. My mom was like that. She was 39 when I was born and now that I’ve lived through menopause I realize that for most of my childhood she was dealing with those challenges. She, too, had some issues that may have begun in childhood but by the time my children were born, she was a good grandma and I’m grateful that’s what my children remember.
I have a hard time being grateful for adversity but that difficult relationship I now see is a blessing as I deal with the inadvertent hurts I caused my own kids. I know I tried extremely hard to be a good mom as I’m sure, now, that my own mom tried her very best. I wonder how many of us actually got through a childhood where parents left no scars and live, unforgiving, for too many years.
The good news is that I’ve come to a place in my life where I can say: I understand, I forgive, I love. What a peaceful, joyful place.