My stupid scars
Sometimes I wonder
about the stupid things that I have done that has left deep and enduring scars.
Stitched up and
left to heal, I tinker with the freshness of the wounds preventing its prompt
healing whilst enduring the pain and itch as if they have become comforts of my
existence.
Then I come to myself. The scars will remain but they must become stories, having their own long tales of how I acquired them, but having my body recover, recuperate, regenerated and restored.
Constantly, I have
to alert myself to what is good for me and what militates against my health and
welfare.
Scars of beauty and hope
Time to nurse my
scars to health and deal with the things that so easily distract me, the quest
to please myself, the need for approbation in attempting to please people and
understanding that from a spiritual standpoint, my God is pleased with me; I
just need to understand, honour and become more aware of that truth.
Loved, blessed and
favoured beyond what I can find words to express, a rediscovery of spirituality
brings grounding without which one is distracted, uninspired and listless.
I am learning new things, and this is offering opportunity and expectations. The story continues; we are on the up.
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