Third, Kate says: heal.
The big one, stretching from sternum, down around rib cage, nipping at the edge of my waist.
Little ones, two in my belly button, forming a lowercase “t” shape.
So much story, stretched tight across skin that will never respond to touch the same way again. Yet not the whole story.
What we can see tells us so little. I was reminded of this just a few hours ago in a grocery store parking lot. I’ve been driving my husband’s enormous truck all week because my car is stupid (read: has major problems that aren’t worth fixing because the fixing is equal to the worth of the car). I had to pick up a couple of things after work today, and of course the place was crawling with people. I cautiously pulled the beast into a space in the back corner, knowing that I would probably have to pull forward, then back up a little before I could freely exit.
This is exactly what happened. I got in and out of the store as fast as I could. Surprisingly for the just-after-work-has-ended hour, everyone was pleasant. I stashed my goods in the back seat, took the running leap necessary to achieve the vault required for me to reach the driver’s side seat and was ready to go. Pulled forward, then smoothly moved into reverse.
Out of nowhere an older man in an equally large truck appeared between me and the curb. His window was rolled down and he was yelling at me. A blind person could have seen that I was uncomfortable and doing my best, but, noooooooo! He had places to be and things to do and I was in his way and he was just going to bull on through.
Confession: I yelled back. There were some blue words. He didn’t hear me. But still.
None of us can see beyond the surface. We don’t know what someone else is going through. We don’t know what has wounded them. We don’t know how or where or why they bleed. It takes effort, a deliberate slowing down, for us to even catch a glimpse.
I wonder tonight how my very human tendency to stay at the surface has hindered healing, for myself and for others. What has God wanted to deal with and I’ve refused to go there with Him? What deeper pain has someone needed to express, needed me to listen to, and I’ve been too busy or too impatient? When have I yelled back when I needed to be silent? When have I withheld when I needed to move forward?
God is masterful and creative. Healing can come through any avenue, in any shape, He deems fit. Wonder of wonders, He often allows us to participate in that. In our own healing. In bringing healing to others.
We just have to look beyond the scars. Read past the first page of the story.
I hate self-promotion. I really do. It’s not fun for me to ask you to be on my book launch team or to “like” my Facebook page. But I’m learning that’s part-and-parcel of the writing gig when you’re small and unrepresented. (I don’t mind being small and unrepresented. Well, most of the time). Please know that I bear you no ill will if you neither join the team nor like the page. Please also know that you’re welcome to do both or either. I think you’re cool and you’re always welcome.