you see the scars
upon my heart
fragile skin
almost healed
broken again
constant pain
i try to hide
these scars inside
no one sees
that's the goal
my heart
is mine
perfect life
or so it seems
how i break
same mistake
push me down
i won't get up
no strength
no fight
no will
no right
i see my heart
so scarred
so hurt
it weakly beats
slowly bleeds
you pick it up
hold it gently
in your hands
then i see
you take my heart
and replace yours
with mine
now yours
is scarred
you took my scars
my pain
my shame
it is not mine
to hurt
to grieve

it's yours

(c) 2006

This is a poem I wrote during a really turbulent time in my marriage. My husband and I had both done things to hurt each other; my parents were in the midst of a divorce; I was extremely stressed because of being a full-time student, part-time employee, and full-time wife; and I was suffering from depression. I wasn't sure that my marriage would be different from my parents' marriage. But God saw us through, and though the healing process has been slow, we have healed.

I am grateful that my husband and I did not divorce, which I contemplated during that difficult time, thinking it would be an "easy" way out, that it would solve everything.

But these kinds of scars are the very things I feel God calling me to bandage for other women. No, of course I can't take them away. I cannot take away the pain in anyone's life. I can perhaps help ease it a bit, but only by ministering God's grace to that person. It's only God, through His Son Jesus, who can take away pain.
And even though I knew that in my head since childhood, when you're faced with a lot of overwhelming situations all piled up on top of one another, sometimes you don't remember how to apply head knowledge to your heart.

He can take away your pain. He can heal your wounds. Yes, you may have scars. My heart is very scarred. But those scars bear witness to how much He loves me.

Let your scars tell others the story of how God loves you so much he pursued you even while you were beaten down, trampled, and abandoned. How He picked you up and held you to His chest so you could hear his heart beat, even though your own heart was barely beating. How, even when you thought no one could love you again, your Savior and Creator, who knows you better than anyone anyway, gently brushed the dirt off your face, looked you in the eyes and said, "I. Love. You." And said it so you felt it in your heart.

Let your scars tell that story.