Week 2 - "Most Serious Injury"

So week 2 marks the second calendar week and the first real week of my own ironic blogging challenge. I drew out my list of “pre-determined topics” and decided with the year just beginning, I was going to go in order for a while. I scrolled to number one and read “the story of your most serious injury”. I did a half chuckle and sighed. “That’s a long story...” I told my teddy bear/friend, Sophie. The timing is also a little ironic as it is first on the list and so by happenstance coinciding with its own anniversary.

The fact remains; I have many injuries to choose from. “Oops! I’m sorry!” was my catchphrase all through junior high and high school. I was/am a fantastically clumsy and not very coordinated child. I’ve had broken toes and sprained...well everything. I broke my ankle. And my foot. I had my knee in an immobilizer for close to 8 weeks. My wrist has been broken. Tendons have been near-torn in my thumb/hand. I accidently pierced my nose and my foot has been run over by a car. But my best and most serious “injury” is probably also the most intentional. And marked by a seven inch scar that is beginning to fade. It is from when I was cut in the throat...

I was in a gang...

Actually, that is a lie. A straight up lie. But a good story. Almost as good as the fact I was “mugged by an old lady in a WalMart parking lot who stole my carmex” (my contribution). I have also been attacked, jumped, raped, suicidal, and the holder of both a crooked pink necklace and a “kickin’ tattoo”. None of these are the truths but they get some serious creativity points!

My injury is in fact the wound which turned into a scar but it is the result of two expert surgeons and two fantastic surgeries which removed, in total, my thyroid and 32 lymph nodes in my neck and sternum. January 2011 marks three years since surgery one and the adventures associated with having thyroid cancer.

My scar and I...we’re attached. It’s hard not to be. Seeing as it sits on my person. It tilts to the side and curves upward. I call in my “second smile”...I’m always smiling even when I frown. When it first became mine, it was covered in crusty gauze and bandages and outlined in a yellowing bruise. It was hideous and I was embarrassed. If people saw it, I would have to explain...they would know. It was winter and I got in the habit of wearing my scarves pretty much around the clock. But a bumpy red line doesn’t hide well forever and I got over awkward stares, peculiar questions, and my own distaste. I am so used to seeing it when I see it in the mirror – sometimes I don’t see it at all. And after many adventures, many stories, and a fantastic journey Jesus and I went in during the course of its life and cause, I think I can honestly say I would miss it if it were to go missing.

That’s the story, the short version, behind my most serious injury. But it s also only the physical story, really. I love the fact that behind every scar (seen or unseen, physical or emotional or mental or affective or...) is a story. There is always a story behind a scar. And when God is allowed to be part of the picture, an even bigger story emerges. Scars fade but never disappear; they are the reminders of pain and the promise of healing. They stand in the place of a wound... Some healer cleaner, nicer, prettier than others depending on the injury and the care but come with a story. My scar holds an intense story – of grace and redemption. Of God showing up in unlikely places and faces. Of a bumpy journey through one of life’s “unthinkables”. Of God’s faithfulness. His love. His sustenance. More than anything, I think it has shown me that the story I hold is not my story at all. God’s story is interwoven into mine and as a result mine into His. I become part, a piece, a snapshot, a hangnail in a piece of the ultimate story running from creation to today.

And therefore, my story isn’t mine. Which means that I have to be faithful in sharing it from time to time. I want my story to about Jesus and so I don’t have the right not to give evidence to where I’ve been and where He’s taking me. I want to live my life to make God known... This, Jesus, is the story behind my scar. 1 Peter 3:15 tells us always to have answer for the reason we believe. I had a discussion not too long ago with one of my young mentorees who stated: “I do believe, I do...but I was asked why the other day and I couldn’t come up with answer. It sucks you know, because faith doesn’t make sense – it’s not supposed to because it’s faith but then I feel like there is no answer I can give that justifies my faith.” I nodded slowly and said “I can’t defend my faith. I fail every time. And when I realize my own ability to state ‘why’ fails...I just tell my story...”

Furthermore, God wants to use our stories. 1 Corinthians 1:4 gives us instructions to comfort as we ourselves have been comforted. We take the places God has led and taught and held and share it. Even the most sheltered, curiously un-jaded amongst have a story – and as any good English teacher would tell you, a story must include a plot. We all have scars. Inside, outside, upside down...and it only takes realizing where God has been working in and through those scars with or without permission. May God continue to get the praise for the places you’ve been. May you allow Him to redeem you and the stories behind your scars..


“Praise the LORD, my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the LORD, my soul, and forget not all his benefits—who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion...” Psalm 103:1-4