Scars of Love
When I was a kid, I always had bruised knees and scabby shins. There was hardly a moment in my childhood when I was not bleeding or bruised from playing too hard with my friends. Usually, I was taking one too many hits on the two-touch football field and ending up on the ground only to get right back up, dust myself off, and do it all over again. We all did this. We all sacrificed our knees and shins and elbows for the game because we had no fear of getting hurt, no fear of bleeding out, no fear of ending up with an ugly scar. Kids are fearless little creatures who are not afraid of making the same mistake over and over-- never lacking a dull moment and never having a boring story to tell. Kids are innocently proud, never afraid or embarrassed to show off a scar and always insisting to tell the story of how each and every imperfect mark on their bodies came to be. It is a beautiful thing. But as we grow older, some of us grow out of this longing to share our scars and the stories ...