I receive a weekly blog posting from an author I enjoy.  This week she turned 40 and in her birthday blog mentioned that she’s “learned to love her scars”.  I stopped and reread.  Her words penetrated.

I have a weird interest in scars.  I think they are beautiful.  I want to know the story behind them.  On a heart level, I love delving into scars there too.  I think they can make people beautiful.  I want to know the story behind them.  I want to see how God surfaces in the story.

I spent part of tonight saying farewell to one of my favorite college freshmen.  She’s getting on a plane tomorrow morning to head back to university after her first big Christmas break.  She’s so much more mature than I was at her age.  She lives her life connected to God.  She is learning to live more connected to her own heart.  She is learning to love her scars.

Sometimes when I am with students–really listening to their hearts, it takes me back to moments in a different place in time.  Sometimes it is glorious, but sometimes it is painful.  I am reminded of bad decisions I made in high school or college, of not seeing my place in the bigger story, of hurting someone, or of choosing ’second things’.  It used to paralyze me, but with the benefit of time, a God who hasn’t given up on me, and a wonderful husband who is far more than who I could have ever dreamed of sharing my life with, I am learning to embrace the beautiful mess that is me.  It’s been a long road, but I’ve learned to love my scars.  It’s scary to write, but I even occasionally have glimpses of what it would be like to welcome future scars–knowing that they remind me of how much I need God and long to live my life really connected to Christ and to the special people that He’s allowing me to share this journey with.

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