beauty{full}: re-scarring
I heard a story once of a young woman who, as a little girl, was badly bitten on the face by a dog. Years later, she's still working with the doctors to remove the scars. And do you know how they do it? By repeated dermabrasion, which is, in a sense, literally sanding down the old scars so that new skin can form where the scar once was.
I cannot get this out of my mind. The thought that, in order to heal, we must have our old scars sanded off of us. We must allow for repeated re-scarring (if you will) in order to ultimately de-scar. Is this the way to beauty in a broken world?
I cannot get this out of my mind. The thought that, in order to heal, we must have our old scars sanded off of us. We must allow for repeated re-scarring (if you will) in order to ultimately de-scar. Is this the way to beauty in a broken world?
***
The Man's mother is one of the most beautiful women I know. I spend almost every pregnancy praying that one of my kids will end up with her eyes (no luck so far, but I have better odds this time, right?). But my favourite thing about my mother-in-law is her arms. If you look carefully, you can see tiny little white scars covering her hands all the way up past her elbows. These scars are the evidence of 28 years of selflessly caring for my husband's disabled twin.
For twenty eight years, the Man's wonderful parents have cared for their son, in their own home, with their own hands, at great personal cost and sacrifice to themselves. They have changed diapers, given baths, learned more medical care than some doctors I know. They have strained their bodies, spent their money, lived for months at the hospital, repeatedly rearranged their home and home life so that their son could receive the best care they could possibly give.
And the scars on my mom-in-love's arms are just one of the testimonies to the incredible love they have poured and continue to pour out on their child. He is alive because of them. He is alive because of their sacrifice. He is alive because they allowed themselves to be repeatedly scarred and re-scarred for his sake. And the result is incredibly beautiful.
I see it. Not just when I look at him (and after my husband and our kids, he gives me some of the best hugs ever), but also when I look at my in-laws. They are made beautiful in this sacrificial scarring. They have been transformed by it.
{If you're looking for the rest of this series, all the links can be found here. Thank you so much for joining with me this month.}