The Scar

For most of my life I have been incredibly protective and discreet about a scar I have on my upper right leg.  It marks a childhood cancer scare and a week in our city’s pink palace, a hospital.  Most of my friends are not even aware of this scar, even those I have spent time with on the beach or in pools.  I have hidden it, cleverly, most of my life – until now.

Last week, my daughter had one of those days that all of us moms dread when we have a girl – the day that other girls hurt them.  We all know these days are coming.  The minute the doctor says, “It’s a girl.” A flash of the sharpest-tongue, meanest-spirited junior high girl you’ve ever known pops in your head.  OH,NO!

So, when Eden told me her sad tale of rejection, I was semi-prepared.  What I wasn’t prepared for was her long pause and decision to withhold any more information about her insecurities until she was confident that I had once visited this emotional place myself.

She glared deeply into my eyes and asked, “Mom, have you ever been left out?”

At that moment I could honestly see that all she has ever known is two very outgoing parents that typically plan the party and persuade the wall flowers that the middle of the room is safe.

“Yes,” not even realizing that I was about to reveal to her my most hidden secret.

“When I was in second grade I had to go to a lot of doctor visits.  At one of the visits I was told that I would be having a surgery because I had something on my leg that could cause me to get really sick.”  I said wondering if she would even care.

“What happened?” she leaned in wanting to know all of the details.

“Well, they scheduled the surgery for the last day of school before the Christmas break so that I wouldn’t miss a lot of school.  But, what they didn’t know about that day is that it was the day of the big Christmas musical and that all of the second grade kids would be a part of this musical except for me.  So, each and every practice for the three weeks leading up to that day, I sat along the gym wall alone.  I would watch my friends laugh and sing and whisper while on stage together and sometimes they would whisper and point at me.” I said shocked I still remembered.

“How did that make you feel, Mom?”

“Truly left out and like I didn’t have any friends for a while.”  I concluded.  “But it didn’t last forever and now I try to pay attention to the people who feel on the outside because I can relate to how they are feeling.  It was a gift.”

And so I immediately recognized that my scar was a tremendous gift.  That silly, insignificant scar on the back of my leg that I have hidden for way too long is actually  now a prized possession marking an experience that I had that won the trust of my baby girl.  Thank you, Lord, for my scar.

How many other scars do I bear that have been masked instead of used?  Or maybe I should say how many gifts do I not give away?

Maybe we should quit asking, “Why me?” and just say, “Thank you for choosing me.”

Man Behind the Curtain

This month I celebrated seventeen years of marriage.

I actually had a complete stranger at a wedding, when told I had just had my anniversary the night before, ask me if I had gotten pregnant.  What a weird thing to ask someone, I scowled of course and said no – but he got me to thinkin’.

Why did I get married at 20?

Oh, yeah, because I knew when I first met Brian that he was going to be that guy that no matter who I married – he would always be there, too.  You know what I mean.  The one that got away.  The first cut is the deepest.  So many songs written out there about this truth.  So, being concerned about the next guy and his feelings I decided to spare him the grief and marry Brian – only fair.

But what I wasn’t privy to back then was that I was actually marrying my God-appointed personal life coach.

The days have slowly passed, but the years have flown.  Each one marked with life experiences together.  And each year, I grow and make positive changes thanks to his investment.

Brian has not only allowed me to live a good, easy life thanks to his provisions, that he will tell you are straight from the Lord blessing his work, but also to explore my faith, my dreams and my roles in life.  Not that he, by any stretch, is easy. He isn’t easy.  Brian is incredibly hard to life with if you are a person who wants to do the minimum to get the maximum.

He is a perpetual life coach.  He believes in pushing the envelope until you are stone cold dead.  His presence alone is convicting if you are coasting.

I fought him for years.

Now, I am incredibly grateful.  This week, and it’s only Wednesday, I have worked through a children’s book deadline, a curriculum deadline, and wrote a talk I am giving in October to over 700 people.  I am not content to sit back when I am capable of giving my best – especially since I have been reminded that this isn’t a dress rehearsal.

Now, more than ever, I understand what Oprah meant when she said, “For everyone of us that succeeds, it’s because there’s somebody there to show you the way out.”