Someone asked me about my scar this week. Not the one on my chin from the time I fell up the stairs. Not the one on my leg from the time I missed when I was climbing over the chairs at Rosenblatt. Not the one on my arm from the unfortunate mishap with a pair of scissors. The big one.
It got me thinking. I have a lot of scars. (I may have passed clumsiness on to at least one of my children.) Big scars. Little scars. Scars that healed well. Scars that did not. I’m guessing you have them too.
Life leaves scars. And scar tissue.
Scar tissue helps repair our body. New tissue forms to replace the injured. Then in time scar tissue breaks down, and you regain the flexibility that can be limited by it. Such is life.
But sometimes releasing that takes work, and releasing scar tissue is necessary for our healing.
I have worked out much of the scar tissue in my body. I think we are always trying to work out the scar tissue in our lives.
But I don’t mind my scars. They’ve made me who I am.
A great listen about not dwelling on your scars…Kenny Chesney’s I’m Alive