I spent this past weekend at my family’s cabin getting in quality family time and working on a much needed tan. My weeks consist of staring out the only window at work, watching the nice summer days pass right on by; it was nice to get out and enjoy whats left of it. But even nice relaxing weekends at the cabin can’t stop the need for work to be done. In between sunbathing and swimming, weeds needed pulling and sand needed to be turned to soften up and dry out. A good portion of the work time I was using a rake to turn up the sand, and my hands did not appreciate this work so much. After the work was done, I ended up acquiring three painful blisters. My hands weren’t used to this work, they weren’t prepared.
When I was working on the sand I didn’t even notice the pain. I was focused so hard on getting the work done. It wasn’t until my mini breaks, as I loosened my grip on the handle, that I noticed the throbbing. Layers of skin pulled back, exposing a fresh raw layer underneath. When the pain started building and becoming more noticeable, I finally caved and ran to get bandaids to protect against further damage. And it was in this seemingly insignificant moment that I made the connection that the state of my hands is the same as my heart.
Rough, raw, ruined. Bruised, broken, bitter. Hurting yet simultaneously healing. This is the state of my heart. Just as my hands worked with the rake, so my heart has worked with grief and heartbreak. The depth of the pain going unnoticed, until crumpled up naked weeping on the bathroom floor; so caught up in the distraction of busyness. But blisters will not go unnoticed. So it is there on that floor that I give into bandaging up my wounds. It is there that I surrender, giving up on my own strength to get me through the battle. And it is there that Jesus meets me. Slowly filling the hurt with sweet promises and truth – making my heart begin to trust again. Comfort of a hope and a future gives purpose to my pain; that even this can be used for good. And even though I have absolutely no clue of the thoughts and ways of God, I have faith that He is good in all of this. He is for me, not against me. I am still loved. I am still cared for. I am still wanted. And I have to believe that somehow all of this is molding and renewing me into a better version of myself. He is using this. He is at work.
A day has passed and the blisters on my hands are already healing. No longer are they fresh raw layers of skin, but in place of that are tiny wrinkled cracks forming to match the wrinkles of the older skin around them. The pain has subdued to only a tiny sting when touched. If they had been worse, I am sure scarring would have eventually occurred. Thankfully that is not the case this time, but I can not say the same for my heart. Some wounds cut too deep, making it impossible to go back to the way it was before. They leave scars and new normals. But the thing I like about scars is that they tell a story. This past season will be a forever scar, and I am ok with that. It is from this scar that I get to tell the story of Jesus at work; that He is real and still very near. This scar brings the deepest sorrow, but it also gives me the greatest joy. I have never known God’s love so deep before, so for that I am thankful.
Thanks for letting me share my heart. To other blistered hearts out there, I am with you and feel for you. But I also pray that this blistering turns to a beautiful scar that tells of God’s great love for you. Don’t let it harden you. Let love in.
God Bless,
Love,
theblessingsgirl
theblessingsgirl 