THE THING ABOUT YOUR SCARS

As I was sitting in my patrol car passing out bottled water and hygiene kits to my friends in Skid Row, I looked at my hand as I was typing on my computer, I noticed some old scaring on my knuckle from my days gone by. The biggest scar I received on my hand was from fighting with a thug who jumped me and assaulted my mother.

I looked at another large scar on my arm caused by a loved one. I thought about another scar on my belly I received as a baby from a surgery and then on that same scar 8 years later another loved one burned me with a boiling pot of water.

The scar above my eye hidden by my brow from another struggle. The scars on my left hand from punching walls as a teenager from frustration when I was unable to defend myself against multiple gang members and White stoners who were not brave enough to step to me by themselves in Jr High School.

A scar from an aunt slamming my hand in a door when I was five because she hated my mother and father.

The devastating and scarring memory of a loved one who strangulated me when I was four years old by rolling my neck up in a car window and laughing as I grasped for air. Then the following week, tried to feed me dog food.

I remember how painful they were as they healed. The emotional scarring took longer than the physical ones. Don’t get it twisted. I had a wonderful childhood and loving parents. But there were others who let me down who were supposed to love and protect me.

I began to go to a low place emotionally. But as I looked at my fist again I noticed something…

It healed. And I am still able to use my hand.

Yes my scars exist. But I am still standing. At that moment, my scarring no longer represented pain.

It represented to me that I survived. That I still grew into a healthy whole human being. My scars did not prevent me from loving. They did not prevent me from laughing.

It motivates me to keep my children from ever experiencing the same scarring.

It drives me to protect and serve many scarred people in Skid Row and beyond, who have scars far beyond anything I could imagine, for the purpose of helping them see beyond their scars, to one day themselves be a blessing to others.

I thank God for every scar I endured. He did not cause the scarring. Humanity did, but he did heal them so I can live and love without letting those scars dim the light inside of me.

My message is simple; if you have scars, and you are alive to see them, it just means you were stronger than the thing that scarred you.

You survived.

God bless you all