For many years, the scar was a reminder of one of the saddest days of my life, the day traditional motherhood was no longer a possibility for me. I used to stare at that scar, sometimes in tears, as I reflected on how I thought my life was supposed to be. Intense emotions would pour out as I stared at the reminder of the trauma I experienced. You know what? I didn’t realize that it, too, was part of the healing process, and not just physically. I needed to allow myself the space to grieve what was lost, and that scar opened the door to allow me really feel whatever emotion I was experiencing when I looked at it.
But as time passed, the scar went from being a painful reminder to becoming a banner of the day God rescued me from death and saved my life. It didn’t even appear “ugly” to me anymore. It became a medal of honor, a symbol of a battle won by the Lord. I didn’t feel sad when I saw it; I just felt grateful. I had moved from lamenting to being reminded that my life was one of purpose, and there was still work to be done for the Kingdom of God. I was still here and still standing.
God also showed me something else. The whole process somehow made me more real. Since I was a child, I’ve been able to show empathy to people around me. And I’ve always felt things deeply. But that experience and the scar that resulted allowed me to really feel where people are and meet them right there—not shy away from the ugliness that life sometimes brings—and to be transparent with my own imperfections. (Yes, God uses those too!)
The Manna Chef 