The Gift of Scars
This reflection was written exactly two weeks following the surgery to remove cancer from my colon, lymph nodes and stomach lining.
After my first pain-free shower in a few weeks, I took in my scars.
I noticed 6 horizontal marks, most of them an inch long. The largest, near my lower left side of my stomach, is about three inches.
The scars hurt much less than before, although sudden movements still send a shockwave through my body.
As I noticed my makeover, I accepted the scars as a sign of success- the removal of cancer from my body. I guess these are my first “war wounds” other than a scar on my right hand from the summer I tried to be an electrician with my dad and a bent pinky finger from a Sunday morning softball game that I cannot remember if we won (but I did make the play and got the batter out).
In the 13th century, the Persian poet Rumi wrote, “the wound is the place where the light enters you.” In a similar spirit, 21st century singer/songwriter Leonard Cohen wrote, “There is a crack in everything, that is where the light gets in.”
As a Christian, the wounds of Jesus from his crucifixion were transformed into signs of hope. His wounds are a source of divine mercy, visible signs of God’s infinite love for us. Those extraordinary ones, like St. Francis and St. Padre Pio, through the gift of the stigmata, remind us of this divine love in their own suffering and desire to be like Jesus.
We all are prone to scars. If we are honest and ready, we could navigate the many chapters of our life, identify our scars- both visible and invisible- recalling their initial pain and appreciating the healing that followed.
With eyes of hope and faith, we can see these wounds as invitations into something deeper. Initially perceived as obstacles, time reveals it as a broken road that led us down a different and more fruitful path.
If we can receive our wounds as gift, maybe not initially but eventually, we may even one day thank God for what God did not cause, but what God accompanied us through.
I believe that the light shines through these scars and supports the path of healing. It invites me, and you with your own wounds and scars, to remember to not curse them, but to embrace them as an invitation into a deeper experience of love with God, self, and one another.
And let us not forget that the beauty of scars is that it isn’t a one-person show. Often scars are healed by others. In my case, it was a surgeon and her team, building upon decades of research and practice, who sealed my wounds. We can recall all our helpers who mended our wounds, meeting us with an unconditional love that allowed the healing to occur.
Perhaps in time, we can also forgive those who caused the wounds, if there is one to blame. Can we see the wounder as also broken, in need of God’s love too. Can we give the great gift of forgiveness, not only to the other, but to ourselves? This is all a part of the healing process.
For now, I return to my own scars, thankful that two weeks following this surgery, I am ready for the next stage of my healing. More wounds will be formed, and plenty of blood will be taken and shed. I pray that I will look back at these scars with gratitude for the healing it brought forth- a very small price to pay for the gift of life.
