My last blog post was identifying myself in the third person. There are parts of me that want to leave the wounded girl behind on the road of slavery, and pretend that she is not apart of this new journey. In fact, ignoring the wounded girl would be easier. Ignorance is bliss, right? However, ignoring that she is not apart of me would be determental to the healing process, because my scars have a story to tell. The road to health is never easy. In fact, the hardest part about the healing process is being able to see that there is another road. Then, having the courage to travel on the road of unfamiliarity.
For many years I didn't have the ability to see another road. The road I walked was familiar and comfortable. That road was all I knew. What I am learning is that just because a habit is routine or comfortable doesn't signify signs of health. At times our routine habitats can breed a false sense of security. The road I traveled for many years may have been familiar and comfortable, but was not a road of health.
The truth on this new road is that scars do not mean I have to live a life of bondage. Scars tell a story. Scars are visible reminders of a wound, but are a sign of healing from the inside. My Savior, Jesus Christ, allowed his scars to tell the greatest story every told. His wounds tell that He bore our transgressions, that a ransom was paid in order that we may live a life of freedom in Him.
I encourage others to let your scars tell a story. Often times the experiences we face in life are not so much about us, but for those who we will meet as we sojourn through this life.
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