It was an utterly inappropriate thing to do.
Somehow the conversation with my customer had turned to the subject of surgeries…and she had abruptly lifted up her shirt to show me the scar running across her stomach, a reminder of a serious illness now past.
After I regained my composure and sent her on her way my thoughts were still on that scar as I left for the day.
She obviously wasn’t ashamed of it…
I slid into the seat of my truck and felt the pressure on the scars on my own body…the three nasty ones on my back, then the long, still tender one on my ribcage that I pulled the seat belt over.
I remembered the concern over the top one on my back…concern that it would heal over an unseen infection that would eat it’s way inside me.
Scars are proof that you’ve been wounded…and that the wound has (at least superficially) healed.
I have them from head to toe now, reminders of pain experienced and pain survived,wounds received and wounds that have healed.
We all have some.
Most of us have more on the inside than the outside.
We don’t want to show them to anyone.
The truth about those inner scars is that until you’re more eager to speak about the healing you’ve received than the wound that necessitated it, you’re still at risk of infection…and that infection will eat you alive.
The scar may have to be opened up again and the wound completely drained if it is to truly heal.
Perhaps, like my customer, we’re truly healed when we can show the scars to someone else…without fear that the wound will be re inflicted again.
I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours…
Make your own application…