Band-aids.

I remember my first real scar.

It was shortly after I was potty-trained at the ripe young age of 17.

Just making sure you were still with me....

I was potty-trained before then, and I was also not seventeen when I got my first battle wound. Much younger, around 9 or 10. I'm sure I had some before this, but this is a distinct one that I still see daily. Yes, my life is difficult.

I was a clutz. AM a clutz. I looked like the kid from Up with pigtails, too.

I was a perfectly round child, and unlike the earth I did  not move in sequence, when I spun around it was usually after tripping over my own feet and falling flat on my face.

I did just that on my best friend's steps outside of her house. I might've been skipping, since I was a jolly young soul, either way, BAM! Faceplant. Right on the ground. Scraped the bottom of my leg, and got a hole in my right hand, right near the ring finger. I remember crying like a little girl (since I was one) that night because I thought that was where my wedding ring would go and now I would #1, never be a hand model (MY ONLY DREAM!), and #2, would have a Quasimodo appendage when some dashing young prince proposed and slid a ring on my finger. Only then did I learn the important lesson that would mold my future when my mom told me to cut it out and explained that the LEFT hand was indeed the shower-offer of engagement rings. Little did I know I wouldn't give a rat's behind later. Haha!

I had an extremely irritating cyst removed on my back when I was a teenager. There is a lovely scar from a series of unfortunate events that were involved in its removal. It's a bump, a lump....and when people ask about it, I have a hard time not saying, "Inside the lump, yes, inside the lump.....was my twin."

I have a few scars on my legs from when I got Peruvian parasites this summer. Yeah, there were monsters inside me. They're not that noticeable to anyone anymore, but they are to me, I know they're on my legs....it was a horribly uncomfortable and painful time, and though that time has passed, the reminders are there for me to see, and sometimes for others as well.

Though this isn't a hilarious post, I was thinking about it all weekend, looking at my ring finger scar as I drove to work, to church, etc. Tonight confirmed that I would write this. Scars aren't my favorite thing. Scars are a reminder of bad things that have happened to me. They're a reminder to others that there are times when my body hasn't been "protected".

We all have scars, and some have wounds that have yet to get to that point. What is the purpose of a scar? Why did God not create our bodies to always be protected? To always "bounce back"?

Because God is a wise God as well as a loving God. The scars we receive from life are a reminder that bad things will in fact happen. We are not safe from harm, we are not safe from hurt. They remind us that in the midst of these bad things, healing takes place. And in the midst of that healing, the opportunity to share with someone else what happened and how you healed will be enabled.

When you accept Christ, you do not accept a 'bubble'....a rabbit hole, a comfort zone. You accept the Rock. Your strength in the midst of trouble, of persecution. The prosperity you find is not in the security of safety, but in the promise of joy amidst the trials and struggles that will indeed come.

Anyone can be happy when life is good. I say it again, ANYONE CAN BE HAPPY WHEN LIFE IS GOOD. But it's different for me. When all else crumbles, I know it doesn't end here. This is where true joy comes in, this is what sets us apart. This is what makes what we have real and not just a crutch. This is the Christian life.