Growing up can be hard. It can leave a person with a lot of scars. Physical, Sexual, Emotional. As I venture into the deeper parts of me, the scars are becoming more apparent. Although, I don’t know if I would call them scars. They’re more like wounds. A scar is something we’re left with, after a wound has healed. It tells a story. It reminds us of something we made it through. Something painful, something traumatic. Wounds are not like that. They are fresh, raw, open. They leave us exposed. They require a tender, gentle, understanding touch. Yeah, I have wounds….
Now, they say that time heals all wounds. That has not been my experience. Some of my wounds are 35 years old. I have been able to push them down really deep. Cover them with a ton of bandages. But underneath, they are there still wounds. Fresh, raw, open. Some of the wounds I have from childhood are related to my femininity and sexuality. The two are so interconnected, it is hard to separate them. For my entire adult life, I have struggled with these issues and the process is slow going. As I unravel the bandages and expose what is underneath, Jesus has tenderly put salve on my wounds and healing has begun. Someday, these wounds will become scars. Beautiful Scars…
