Scars.

I was on the train a few weeks ago, and found myself sitting across from a man. He was an ordinary man, except for the fact that he had warts on his face that resembled parts of a tree. It is difficult to describe exactly how he looked, but it was unlike anything I had ever seen before. Many on the train stared unashamedly. I tried to be subtle, and avert my eyes, and he smiled at me. A warm smile. A forgiving smile. I, like everyone else, was shocked by his skin, and he knew it. He didn't seen withdrawn, ashamed, at all. On the contrary, he was glowing with confidence.


I was left with a resounding thought.
"The Lord delights in your scars." 
I'm sure many fear their scars. Fear judgement. Hate the blemishes, hate the marks. I was left considering my own scars. How I felt about them, how I have tried to hide them. The scar from my ankle surgery earlier this year after a longboarding accident. The scars on my face from severe acne, that I have spent hopeless hours trying to hide. Why should we fear our scars? Why hate them? Without them, who would we be? Every scar has a story, every blemish is a spot of reality. The do not make the one who created the stars love us any less. Scars make us real, and beautiful. My scars make me real, and beautiful.

So here they are.