This week I want to re-visit something I wrote on my other blog 2 summers ago when I was in Kenya....
I've been thinking about scars lately, how they don't hurt but can tell a story and can bring back memories of pain or growth.
Maybe that's one of the reasons I am here, God wanted to give my heart a scar of poverty...that the pain I have seen and felt this summer and the growth in understanding and love from it might eventually not always hurt or invade every waking thought as they do now but will leave a mark that others will see and will give me a better ability to share my story and how God has worked in my life.
Looking in the mirror now, I can still see the scar. Like any physical scar, sometimes its hard to see and sometimes it stands out vividly, and sometimes i can still feel the sting. In a way I wish those times that I feel the sting would happen more frequently. Looking back now I am saddened at how easily it seemed to scab and heal over, how easily I forget that it's there. But God is gracious and holds a mirror to it every once in a while and reminds me that it's still there.
Linking up with Emily and others at Imperfect Prose