When I was five, My sister and I disobeyed my mom when she told us to stop playing on the barbed wire fence that separated our huge yard from grandpa’s cow pasture. Climbing up the fence post and jumping into the pasture seemed like such a good idea at the time. I had no clue that I would end that day with a battle scar that would remain with me forever.
On my last jump of disobedience, I stumbled and a barbed wire stuck into the side of my leg and ripped it all the way up to the top of my leg. Thirty-six stitches later, I wished I had obeyed my mom.
That wasn’t my first or last scar. When I was a toddler, my older brother was playing with the fire poker and somehow it caught me up under my chin. I still have the scar from the burn.
Since then, I’ve added a snow skiing scar and c-section scars to my collection of battle scars. Do age spots count as battle scars? I think so. I haven’t found anything to remove them, so I think they count.
What about battle scars of the ego? My ego’s been bruised too many times to count.
When I first started blogging, I remember submitting several photos to Food Gawker. (I was so naive) They only take the very best food photos and my first three attempts were flatly denied. At the time, my ego was crushed. Later, when they did accept a photo, I thought back to when I first submitted a photo and realized that I would have rejected it as well. I blushed. I did. It was bad!
What about Battle Scars of the Heart?
I’ve suffered these type battle scars as well. The seemingly simple act of raising kids will contribute many battle scars of the heart – letting go that first day of kindergarten, that first day of middle school, that first day of high school and that first day of college. The ultimate letting go is on their wedding day. Â As your child rides off into the sunset, you’re excited about their future, but a part of you aches for the little girl or boy that’s all grown up.
When mom passed away, my heart seemed to be shattered and it has taken a long time to mend. My heart melts when I talk to my dad on a daily basis and his loneliness drifts over the telephone wires. (Yes, I still have my landline phone).
What Doesn’t kill you Makes you Stronger
Battle scars are not a bad thing. My few age spots remind me of my once flawless complexion that has now been through some stuff – grief, the elements, and a whole lot of fun. I can Dermablend them when I’m out and about or embrace them while I’m working in the garden. They are a part of me.
That scar on my outer leg that required 36 stitches? It’s still there and reminds me that sometimes I have to pay the price of disobedience.
Ego scars keep me humble and wanting more – all at the same time.
Battle scars are like growing pains – whether we’re growing our business, growing spiritually or growing up. It’s who we are. And that’s fine with me.
Do you have any battle scars? What did you learn from them?
