Sacred Scars
Knowing the value of scars, I like to ask people about the stories behind theirs. You can learn a lot about a person by listening to those stories.
The following essay is adapted from my book Sacred Grounds: First Loves, First Experiences, and First Favorites.
Grandpa Ed, and his wife, Modene, had a wooded acreage behind their house and he liked to take me for walks down there when I was a kid. He would point out wildlife to me that would have otherwise gone unnoticed, ask me how things were going at school, and ask questions about our food situation at home.
After my parents split up, Grandpa took it upon himself to step into the gap – fixing things around our house and always making sure we had enough food. Of course, I had no idea what he was doing. I was just a kid who enjoyed prowling in the woods with his grandpa. But by stepping into the gap, he allowed me to keep my childhood.
I wasn’t worried about how tough things were for my mom because he did the worrying for me. He’s been gone for close to forty years now, but I still get moved to tears when I think about him doing that.
While we were on one of those walks in the woods, I saw something that caught my attention. I can’t remember what it was, but I took off running toward it. He was close to sixty at the time, so he wasn’t able to catch me. Just as he said something about me slowing down, I ran into something that felt a lot like a wall, only with barbs, and it knocked me flat.
A warm substance trickled down my left cheek and it only took me a second to realize I was bleeding. When I glanced up, I saw a barbed-wire fence. It scared me to death, but I think it scared Grandpa even more. I’m sure he felt responsible, but the truth is, sometimes boys will be boys. They get intrigued by something and just take off without any regard for the possible consequences.
I probably should have gotten a stitch or two, but in my opinion, the scar only gave me character and a good story to tell the girls – if only I hadn’t been too shy to actually talk to a girl. But I learned later that scars do much more than make a person look tougher. They also serve as reminders. Cormac McCarthy once wrote, “Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”
I’m the type of person who grieves when landscapes change because it feels like someone is wiping out my personal history there.
The playground where I experienced my first kiss is now a housing project. The grade school – my grade school – that used to sit across the street from that playground is now an apartment complex. The marquee that sits outside my high school now says it is a “magnet school,” whatever that is. One of the roller skating rinks I used to frequent as a child is now a grocery store. I bought some cat food from that grocery store once, and when I opened the box, it had worms in it. That seemed about right, since my memories of the place had been spoiled.
Recently, I was in the car with my mom and we were driving through that same neighborhood. She pointed to one little green house and told me the name of the family who used to live there, saying she had been inside many times as a babysitter. She pointed to another house and said it was her sister’s best friend’s house. On and on she went, trying to solidify the reality of her sacred grounds that have since been desecrated or maybe worse, forgotten by everybody else.
Thankfully, even places have scars – reminders of what used to be. That old playground still has the gravel-covered alleyway that runs behind it. My old grade school turned apartment complex still has its original marquee. My old high school still has the same front steps. That old roller skating rink turned grocery store appears to have the same doors. Every time I pass by one of these scars, they speak to me, and I listen.
Knowing the value of scars, I like to ask people about the stories behind theirs. You can learn a lot about a person by listening to those stories. I find that people are much more willing to talk about the cause of their physical pain than the cause of their mental pain. And that’s okay. You have to start somewhere.
September Spotlight
Now you can enjoy the complete Mercy Inn Series trilogy in one volume (e-book only).
Mercy Inn (Book 1): Three strangers travel on a lonesome Colorado highway at Christmastime and are forced to take shelter during a snowstorm at Mercy Inn. Will the two innkeepers, who just happen to be angels, be successful in helping Sarah, Brad, and Megan to face their respective roadblocks and set them on a new course? Or will fear, guilt, and pride win the day?
The Reunion (Book 2): When the Moffat High School class of 1986 holds its thirtieth reunion at Mercy Inn, the twelve former classmates get much more than an ‘80s-themed dance and a stroll down memory lane. Will the two innkeepers be able to guide Zoey, Tommy, and Matt through a maze of decisions and a life-threatening situation? Or will this reunion end in tragedy?
The Revelation (Book 3): After learning that Mercy Inn is set to host its final Christmas celebration, the two innkeepers face another big challenge. As the four guests struggle internally and with one another, the innkeepers' insights cause the guests to question the true identities of the innkeepers, shaking them to their core.
In addition to the complete trilogy, this volume also includes a Mercy Inn short story titled "Comeback" that fits perfectly between Books 1 and 2.
Here are some tidbits you might find interesting this week:
If you missed it last week, I’ve launched a new author website. I’d love for you to visit.
If we’re sitting across from one another, don’t ever worry about oversharing. I’m there with you because I want to hear your story.
I had a reaction to a medication this past week - one I expected but it flattened me for nearly three days. Never underestimate the power of meeting someone’s basic need. Having friends and family do so for me made a world of difference.
When Lee isn’t writing essays, devotional books, or Christian fiction, he is a freelance editor, as well as a freelance journalist who has written hundreds of articles for various newspapers and magazines. He’s also a fan of NASCAR, baseball, tennis, books, movies and coffee shops.
This story makes me think of the time my husband and I were headed to a marina to go sailing with a friend and our friend’s twelve-year-old son. My husband and our friend were sitting in the front seat, and the 12-year-old was in the back seat with me. All of a sudden, (I assume because he was at a loss for interesting conversation with this strange woman in the back seat), he piped up, “So, do you have any good scars?” His dad turned around so fast and said, “What did you say?” Now, you’d have to know that his dad was a great storyteller and in fact had been my mentor in coming to understand that our stories reveal much about God to us. I just laughed and said, “It’s fine. As a matter of fact, I do.” And I showed him the scar on my elbow where I had crashed my bike when I was about his age, and then he showed me the scar he got from climbing a fence to get a ball during a soccer practice. Away we went. I still love that question!