Joel Futch, Jr.
Ever notice how only the living can
develop a scar? It means something to have a scar; congratulations, you
survived! Then I consider careworn hands, covered with tiny scars that give
testament to a life of sacrifice. When I think about these scars, I think about
my granddaddy's hands. They were weathered and gnarled like the limbs on a Live
Oak tree, covered with tiny white lines where he gave his life blood for his
kids a sip at a time. Then there are the emotional, hidden scars that shape who
we are. These are the ones that can only be seen when an emotional investment
is made in the person carrying them. These, being hidden, are the most
difficult to heal.
In all, the scars in an imperfect world give me hope that with every injury, healing is truly possible. In a way, we need scars. They allow us to keep going in this life. You can't very well go through life with open wounds. Some people have no choice; they can't heal well, and their life is restricted. Scars seal us up where we have been opened, physically, emotionally, albeit imperfectly, but they allow us to press on. They are the rough plugs that enable us to survive without sinking.