The woman looked into my eyes and saw who I was and who I was to become. Selflessly she offered up her life to share all she had learned, that I might gain understanding from her experiences. She knew me to still be young, needing guidance. Exposing her flesh she asked me to draw near that I might touch her scars. At first I wanted to divert my eyes and see her only as perfect but she insisted I see correctly. One by one she showed me her wounds and explained how she had received each one. Some she had gained from other’s infliction and some she had brought onto herself. She hid no details of their origin. In touching each of these scars I could feel my heart aching inside my chest; feeling swollen and inflamed with the transference of compassion and mercy.
When alone I considered what was being shared with me and the reasons why. Tears kept rolling down my cheeks and reaching up to touch them I let my finger gather these liquid drops. Looking at them I felt as though each one was a treasure. I turned on the light of my magnifier to look closer. They seemed to sparkle and shine. Was this what God saw, was this why He kept them?
Scars and tears; each had their purpose and Jesus had been a bearer of both. I come to understand more day by day.