I got off
the bus and, as usual, I saw my nemesis eyeing me over from the corner of the
house, situating himself between me and the front door. I was pretty sure if I
took off for the other end of the house I could beat him to the back door, but
the back door came in to the basement so you had to jump down this steep hill in
two steps to get there. I took off as fast as my short little legs would carry
me, and sure enough, I hear that bird’s war cry just as I get to the edge of
that little hill. That scares the spit out of me so I jump WAY too far and come
down about half way across the house, instead of halfway down the hill. I pop
back up in an instant and turn around just in time to see him come over the top
of that hill like a buck in rut and all I can see are spurs, beak, and certain
death headed straight for my face. I throw my hands up to protect myself and
that sucker opened up a 3” gash with his spurs on my hand. It was bleeding
pretty good, and it hurt like crazy. My older and larger brother finally
decided it was time to help (for a second – I still think, to this day, that he
just didn’t want the show to end) so he shooed the rooster away as I made a
break for the car. I hid in our big old brown Oldsmobile Delta 88 for about 30
minutes, bleeding and scared, before I was able to make a break for it and get
to the house.
Now, while
in hindsight that is a really funny story – at the time it was a horrible,
traumatizing event that left me petrified of poultry long after most folks are
not afraid of poultry.
As I was
looking at a cut on that part if my hand again this past week I realized
something I had never understood from that incident. I had cut my hand in the
garage, and the cut had actually gone through the same area as that scar. I
noticed that it was cut on one side of the scar and the other, but was not cut
where that scar was. As I thought about that I realized that it was not cut
there because the scar tissue was tougher than normal areas of my skin that had
not been previously scarred.
I see a
parallel in my walk with Jesus as well. I, like everyone, have been hurt by
people. Anytime we try to love we open ourselves up to being hurt. Putting our
defenses down is required to really love anyone. This makes us vulnerable and
is why it is so hard to do. I have noticed, however, that when God heals me
from a hurt I got while trying to love someone, I become less susceptible to be
injured that way again. The emotional “scar tissue” we have in our lives is
brought by God for a reason. It is not punishment – it is for our growth, and
for the growth and benefit of those around us, even when we don’t get it. As Constantine
Figuring
that out has helped me put some perspective on my own pain, and the pain of
those I love. It has helped me to see my own pain as a reflection of the pain I
have caused others. It has helped me to love a little more, because I know how
loved I am, and has made me tougher and more resistant to being hurt because I
realize that the person who hurt me is just like me, and is just as desperately
seeking something real in a world of fakers and takers.
BTW – I
learned another thing about God’s love for His children that night when my dad got home from
work. When he found out what had happened he went into the henhouse and that
rooster learned a thing or two about fear and scar tissue as well. He didn’t
get to utilize much of it though, as I’ve never had a bigger smile on my face
while eating a chicken dinner.
No comments:
Post a Comment