When I was 2 years old, my family had a dog.
It was an Afghan Hound (pictured)…It was huge.
Google it.
Seriously…
I’ll wait.
I know you didn’t google it…but I can’t wait on you all day.
So anyway, we had this enormous dog and one day the creature and I were in the backyard together…I was defenseless in his territory.
I was minding my own business when all of the sudden that dog bit me in the face!
In the face! (In my defense, that dog threw sand in my eyes first.)
I now have a scar above my left eye.
That quick encounter left me with a scar for my entire life. (Which I’m not completely sure, but I think biting a kid is probably a doggy sin and he is now burning in doggy Hell)
The truth is that we all have scars.
Our scars tell our stories.
Divorce, pain, doubt, depression, secrets.
Scars are not only the evidence of pain but also the declaration of survival.
I’ve heard it said that scars are not signs of weakness, they are signs of survival and endurance.
You made it.
You survived.
Today, take a few moments and thank God that you have survived and remember that you’re a survivor!
