Scars

I have a scar on my chin. When I was four, I'd been in a "big girl bed" for a couple years, but was apparently having a rough night. I fell out, knocked out two teeth, and busted up my chin.

I also have a scar on my knees. Fourth of July, somewhere around seventh grade. I fell in the street while playing with some friends. Now these quarter-sized scars are with me for life.

There's a scar on my nose from a couple of years ago. A dog bit me. Yikes. Those scars will probably stick around, too.

And then there's the scars on my heart. A scar from the time a boyfriend told me he was excited about the future he thought we might have together and then broke up with me a week later. Over email. A tender mark from the very unexpected loss of an extremely dear friend. A soft spot when I think about the miles that stretch out between me and my family, and most of my best friends.

The scars on my body are easy to see, especially if you know they're there. The ones on my heart? Not so much. But they make a difference. Those "heart marks" are the kind of things that have shaped who I am now, in good ways and in bad. Healing takes a long time.

I'm not the only one walking around with scars. Everyone has a few. It's a part of being human. Lately I've realized how much those things play into how we're able to interact with others. They have scars. Just like I do. Sometimes they get in the way when we forget other people could be going through a difficult situation. It's something I'm trying hard to learn this week. Instead of being someone who pokes at other people's tender spots, I'm hoping to be more sensitive to what others are going through so I can be a help.

It's hard, and I definitely don't get it right all the time. Or even most of the time, really. But it's something God's been whispering in my ear lately.

What's He been whispering to you?