I have skin cancer. Don’t worry. It’s not serious, but I had to have this thing on my chest removed a few weeks ago. 8 stitches. It’s ugly and I’m stuck with it forever. The worst part is that it was kind of my fault because a weird combination of fear, denial & busyness led me to postpone taking care of it for over 2 years. I know, you are shaking your head. You see, I am really good at taking care of other people and stink at taking care of myself. The whole thing was fairly inevitable because years ago I was one of those people who slathered with baby oil and layed out on tinfoil. A few months ago, my husband Jose and a few good friends applied some pressure and forced me to go. When it was getting cut out I bravely told the doctor “well, no big deal, it’ll just be one of my war wounds.”
That was when I hadn’t seen it yet.
The next day, when I took off the initial bandage, I was a little stunned. It was a lot bigger than I thought and right smack in the middle of my chest. I started to cry. The war wound idea didn’t feel too glamorous anymore. I just wanted to go back to how it was before. Yes, it’ll fade. Everyone tells me that (It’s not the most helpful thing to hear in the moment. “I’m sorry, what a drag” just helps so much more). Bottom line is no matter how much it fades, I’ll always have the scar.
And I don’t want to be scarred. I think that all of the time. I don’t want the ugliness of life. I don’t want pain. I don’t want loss. I don’t want struggle. I don’t want anything bad.
I just want the good. I want Utopia. I want Mayberry. I want a steady paycheck (is that too much to ask?). I want everyone to like me and never be mad at me. I want everything to stay the way it is when I’m having a good day. I want to forget about the past. I want the scar to magically heal. I guess what I really want is heaven on earth.
But that’s not real life. Jesus made that pretty clear. He was painfully honest with us, that life on earth was sure to be hard. But that somehow it could also be good, that peace was still possible. Maybe peace would come if we’d just be willing to accept the bad better?
That’s what I want to do with my pain, accept it better. Embrace the loss of dreams. Maybe God can give me new ones? Embrace my insecurities. As much as I hate them, they always force me to go back to God because I don’t know where else to go. Embrace the confusion, that I have no idea what I’m doing but I guess this is where I’m supposed to be. Embrace that others hurt me. That’s part of risking our hearts with each other. Embrace change. It’s brutal in the moment but always moves me to new, better places somehow. Embrace that God never promised this was going to be easy. My big beef these days is why does it seem like every Christian book out there makes it seem so darn easy? “8 ways you can make your scars disappear.”
Okay so my bottom line is this. At The Refuge I don’t have to hide my scar. I showed up on a Sunday night tank top and all. It’s just part of me now. And like all of my other war wounds, I guess it what makes me, me. And at The Refuge I can be me. I looked around last Sunday and I was like “wow, there are a lot of scars in this place, lots of war wounds.” We really are battle-weary soliders on the front lines. And we’re all here for some wild reason. We’re all laughing. We’re all crying. We’re in this crazy hard battle together.
And somehow it’s beautiful. Can scars really be beautiful? Maybe so. I think yours are. They remind me that God heals. Gives hope. Makes something beautiful out of ashes. I need to believe the same thing about my scars, too. It is so hard for me to do. But I know I must try. Please, let’s keep trying together.
Well this is my forth attempted at blogging. Who took the username Kathy. By the time I got through the login I forget my username.
BC (before Christ) I experienced two life changing traumas. The first was facing death. Death taught me that our greatest need is forgiveness. The second trauma was abortion. Dead people need forgiveness. Abortion taught me that there is a greater need among the living, the living need to love. Abuse doesn’t produce the “Proverbs 31” woman. The only thing worse than a messed up, scared up life is a cold heart. Even a little love is a big miracle. Christ took care of all my needs.
Kathy,
This particular blog really touched my heart. I have many war wounds from my life that are not visable, yet they are there regardless. Everyday, I look for the “light at the end of the tunnel”, the “silver lining”. I truly believe that God gives you only what He believes you can handle. What I need to do now is trust in His faith in me and start believing that myself.
Thank you for your kind and always helpful words!
Diane
Kathy,
Thank you for your beautifully honest words re: war wounds. This particular blog gives me hope. I have been feeling as though I have been walking around in a complete body cast this past year due to being wounded so deeply in my own personal war. You have inspired me that someday when my current “body cast” is removed I will walk as a whole person, complete with scars and a story of hope to pass on. God bless you and all of us as we continue to press on and do life together.
Sherri
War wounds. It’s almost too close to home as we watch the news and see the bombings in the middle east. One side pummeling the other over issues of faith. But yet, in a small way, we pummel each other here too. Whether it be turning away from someone in need or not being willing to ask for help or to help. Kathy, I think you are blessed and full of hope for all the good that God really does have in store for you. “yee of little faith” I think you said tonight to describe yourself. And yet I see a deep an abiding faith in you that teaches me to be more faithful, more committed, and more passionate about the things I can do to make a difference. May God bless you and may your scar fade just enough so that it doesn’t catch your eye, but not so much that you forget to remember your own humanity.
Kathy, a war wound only makes you more ruggedly beautiful, but beautiful nonetheless.
Wow, what a great subject. I have a lot of my own war wounds - from childhoop abuse, dysfuctional family, divorce, and most recently, the death of my sister 10 months ago. Sometimes I feel like the inside of me looks like those horrid Iraqi war pictures. And I’m jealous that they are visibly wounded. You see, I’ve still got MAJOR wounds from losing my sister. But since they can’t be seen, people don’t ask how I’m doing regarding her anymore. But it’s my responsibility to let people know that the wounds are still there so they can help me care for them. I don’t like - scratch that - I HATE that part of healing… I want my friends to take care of me like they did in the few weeks following her death. But that’s unreasonable to expect. As awesome as I think my friends are, they can’t read minds. And there’s a huge payoff for taking ownership of my needs - I’m finally starting to grow up.
I was really touched by your blog about your scar. I have walked around this world since I was 1 1/2 years old with a scar on my stomach that streaches from one side to the other, and is at least 2 inches in width. I have always been embarrased by it, and ashamed to let anyone see it. Now I see what a metaphor it has been for my whole life. I have alway’s been emarrassed and ashamed of myself for as long as I can remember. It is the ugliest thing, and I have lived with it for 30 years. It will never deminish, and will never go away. In so many way’s, I wonder if the pain of my past and present is one in the same. Will it ever deminish, will it ever go away? It does not feel like it. I cry now just in writing this as I did day’s, months, and even years ago. I try to have faith. To trust. To believe. I feel as though no matter what the present or the future holds, I am still the embodiment of the scar. That it still represents my life. My greatest wish is to feel Jesus come and hold me. To remove my 30 year old scar.