The family, on a walk, celebrating life, was interrupted in an instant. The joyful lives stopped by the finality of it all. Innocence stolen and replaced by darkening fear. Lives, just beginning, full of love hopes and dreams extinguished by evil.
Tears were shed, hurts screamed out, anger spewed like steam from a boiling tea kettle. But, life goes on. Bandages are placed on the wounded hearts and healing ointments rubbed on the bleeding souls. Time passes, the wound scabs over and the healing begins. A Scar soon form, a constant reminder of the walk that started out so beautiful.
Every so often something catches on the raised scar and it is again torn open, exposing the raw, wounded flesh. Tears once again flood the lids. The heart tugs on the aging bandages and throbs with each life giving pulse only to begin the healing process one more time.
Weeks turn into months and months into years, the scars remain. At times the scar is caressed with a tender finger, the jagged ridges telling its tale. Still other times it is torn open and ointments must be re-applied. Yet, most often the scar just lingers. It becomes one with the body. It can be covered or disguised, but never forgotten.
PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR,
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE Read more articles by Cindy Moore or search for other articles by topic below.
You are so right, but as much as we may sometimes be torn into a thousand shreds, the scars of our own lives grow compassion, and insight, with which we can help another.
Maybe that's why God allows evil...........for us to cling to Him, and want to make a difference. God Bless you sister, Elizabeth.