SCARS and STORIES
I placed the Conscious Ink Manifestation Tattoo next to his scar. I had saved it for my own arm, but I needed to see it. On him.
I had been lying on my husband's bare chest the day before and I found my fingers tracing the scar that runs for four inches from below his ribs to his belly button.
A scar. From a bullet. When he was 9 years old.
He was playing on a road in Mexico, his parents across the street buying food when the shots rang out. Police and those running. Shots fired and returned. One hit him.
It was 4 hours to the nearest hospital. He remembers feeling cold and thirsty and feeling sad that his mother and father were crying while they looked at him and kept urging the driver to drive faster.
The doctor said he needed surgery. He also said he may not make it through it. While waiting his turn for surgery, his parents found a priest and baptized him. And they prayed that God wouldn't take their little boy from them.
His brother told me this story after he had a few beers with tears streaming down his face as if he was still the 13 year old boy who peered through the window wondering if they would drive four hours home with one seat unfilled.
Right before the surgery, the doctor checked my husband and blinked. Then rechecked. Then baffled said that he no longer needed surgery. And that by some miracle, he was going to be okay.
I share this because I know so many of us have experienced profound loss, but there are also miracles. Search your life for them. Shine a spotlight on them. Make room for more miracles.
But also honor the pain, the rock bottom moments, the heartache.
That was the tattoo I put on my husband.
Because no matter the tears, the smiles, the highs or the lows, every moment is a miracle.
Sometimes, we simply need to remember.
There are stories in your scars. There is power in our words.
And in the end, it is how you wear them that matters.