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Scars

September 16, 2009

A few weeks ago, when I headed to the beach for a week, I had one basic goal in mind.

To get a really, really awesome tan.

I’m not sure why exactly I doubted that eight days of laying on the sand and chasing little kiddos IN THE SUN wouldn’t do the trick on its own, but I wanted to be absolutely positive, so I did what any stupid reasonable girl would do. Which is to, you know, forgo the whole sunscreen deal.

Yes, I am serious. Be assured, my children were slathered hair to toenail with the highest SPF around and wore their rash guards the minute I saw any signs of pink. And believe it or not, even with all that, they still have little (meltingly adorable) tan lines.

I have tan lines too. Serious ones. As you can, I’m sure, imagine.

The second day there, I bought a new swimsuit. The lines and straps on this one were completely different than any of the other swimsuits I’ve had the past few years, which meant there were a few places on my back and my shoulders that hadn’t actually seen any sun to speak of in, well… forever. As in, probably never.

Because I have less sense that a goat and a hefty dose of vanity, I endured the pain that came along with the complete frying of my skin that week, certain that it would all be worth it when I went home a nice, even brown. (Which, I must say, it was. Please don’t hate.) What I didn’t anticipate was the healing process for those few spots of skin which were being exposed to harsh sunshine rays for the first time, ever. Or what would happen afterward.

While the rest of my body simply turned a darker shade of brown than it had been from all of our regular beach-going this summer, those few places took two weeks to heal. And in their place, instead of the nice summery, beachy tan I was after, are left… scars. Sunburn scars.

Didn’t plan for that one. Not so hot when it comes to those sundresses that fill my closet. I’m guessing I won’t be doing that again.

I was noticing yesterday morning that they’re almost completely healed now. The after-effects of a serious burn aren’t visible, and the skin, while not blending in with the tanned area around it, looks almost normal again. But there is one thing that has caught me by surprise. The skin is still a bit tender to the touch.

It’s a funny thing about scars. We all have them, usually from something that was fun until it… well, wasn’t. I have three of them on my knees from when I was a little girl; two from mountain bike accidents and one from a roller-blading spill. John has a big one in the center of his forehead, the result of tripping during a game of tag, back before he was even school-aged. But even though, for most of my scars (except these most recent ones, obviously) it’s been a decade or two since the initial wound, the skin is still tender. It won’t ever be the same or as strong as the healthy skin surrounding it. The scrapes or gashes may have healed and become gradually less painful, but the scar is still there. For the worst of them, I might still wince at close contact.

We’ve all heard the analogies a hundred times. Scars make us who we are. They show where we’ve been. They’re part of healing. We’re told the ugliness is beauty when viewed this way. We need to get over our scars. Get past them. They don’t mean anything anymore.

But we all know the truth.

Scars are ugly. Nobody (except maybe little boys) intentionally sets out to gain a body full of scars.

Nobody wants to have visible reminders of their worst moments–the ones they brought upon themselves, nor the ones others inflicted upon them. But deep wounds don’t heal without leaving a scar. Not ever.

It’s true: we do end up with these places of twisted, maimed skin (or of battered, bruised hearts) as the result of healing. But sometimes, the pain goes on long after the healing, by appearances, is complete.

There is truth to the analogies. Scars do make us who we are. They cause us to remember our weakest and darkest days. They remind us of our brokenness, our weakness. And, to me, they drive me back to my Lord. The One who brought me through those days. The One who did and is doing the healing in my life.

A scar equals a pain. A wound. We can’t simply dismiss it. Can’t pretend it isn’t there. The residual ache… or the healing. Because, in reality, a scar is always a little bit of both.

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13 Comments »

  1. Brittainy says:

    You are an amazing writer.Thanks for sharing :)

    [Reply]

    September 16th, 2009 at 11:11 pm

  2. Linds says:

    Scars can also remind us of the triumph over the pain.
    Beautiful post, Ashleigh. It is great to have you back again!

    [Reply]

    September 17th, 2009 at 1:57 am

  3. Mrs. Julie Fink says:

    praying for you and your "recent" scarring ♥

    [Reply]

    September 17th, 2009 at 6:14 am

  4. LeAnna says:

    So true. My favorite analogy of scars is this: We don't die from scars, we die from our infected, untreated wounds. Praise God we serve the Master Healer- even though it hurts, and even though we have the ugly reminder, we're still alive (in body and in spirit!) because of Him.

    [Reply]

    September 17th, 2009 at 6:19 am

  5. Heather says:

    Beautifully written…

    [Reply]

    September 17th, 2009 at 7:44 am

  6. Kirsten C. says:

    Thank you for sharing this, Ashleigh. No matter how big or small the wound, it does matter to our Father and hasn't been allowed into our lives without a purpose. Your post reminded me of this song, "Heal the Wound", by Point of Grace…thought I'd share the link.

    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLnKj9Bwlec&feature=PlayList&p=B184C7E02BDB0819&playnext=1&playnext_from=PL&index=34

    [Reply]

    September 17th, 2009 at 12:20 pm

  7. Steve n Vickie says:

    :D can you say skin cancer :D Naughty, naughty . . .

    Anyway nice analogy. Enjoyed your post.

    [Reply]

    September 17th, 2009 at 1:29 pm

  8. DelightinginHim says:

    Great analogies there and there is something to be said about scars. I have many. Many from accidents I wish I could have prevented and even a few that I might be (Dare I say it?) slightly proud of. The ones that show how blessed I am because God protected me from something that could have been far worse!
    And the scars of the heart, some may never completely go away and yet they show of God's love, mercy and the strength He has given me to endure.

    [Reply]

    September 17th, 2009 at 2:40 pm

  9. bethany says:

    ha, if you think you have scars, imagine what *I* have from that week! ;) i must say….the tan is purty sweet. ;)

    lol….we're crazy. sunscreen? nah….we'd rather fry.

    love you!

    [Reply]

    September 17th, 2009 at 9:26 pm

  10. Fair Maiden says:

    True, true. You mentioned about nobody (except maybe little boys) intentionally set out to get lots of scars. The oldest of my 2 brothers decided this year that he didn't care how many bug-bites, but he was going to pick them, and make LOTS of scars. He now looks like he has Chicken Pox all over his legs, and since he always wears shorts, they're always visible. The funniest thing is that he's proud of it. Who would be proud of scars that looks like Chicken pox? Anyway, I just thought I'd share that. :)

    [Reply]

    September 18th, 2009 at 8:48 am

  11. Mosaic says:

    Ashleigh, beautifuly written!

    I'm fair skinned and several summers ago I figured I didn't need sunscreen while I repaired all of the sprinkler heads on our lawn (some had to be freed from grass overgrowth). I did this in a bathsuit … in S. Florida … in the summer. Pealed twice, couldn't wear a bra for two weeks. The lines were there for TWO YEARS. I kid you not!

    But I've never done that again!

    [Reply]

    September 18th, 2009 at 6:17 pm

  12. jAne says:

    I see our scarred selves as broken vessels fit for honor before a holy King…

    Blessings,
    jAne at tickleberry farm

    [Reply]

    September 19th, 2009 at 6:30 am

  13. joyfullyhis says:

    Amen to what jANE said!
    I know that God has certainly used the scars on my body. To remind me of Him, To remind me of HIS Scars, to remind me to never do something like that again… and to remind me that He is my Healer.

    My biggest scar is on my left upper arm. It travels horizontally across the entire width of my arm. Just below it are 2 smaller scars and there is also a small one on my shoulder. That fateful day, over 10 years ago, I was riding my sister's bike (much to her chagrin…) and decided to look back and see just why it was making that noise. And then I met with the barbed wire. 4 strands. It happened so quickly! and now, I always remember to watch where I am going…. esp now that I'm driving something other than a bicycle =D

    [Reply]

    September 19th, 2009 at 9:25 am

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