Beautiful scars

Every morning and every night I carefully apply a special scar gel to Garrett’s neck. I love doing this. It reminds me of when I was first taking care of him after he and David had their four-wheeler accident last September. After an hour and a half with a team of plastic surgeons he had 200 welcomed stitches holding together the slashes across his neck. It reminds me of the feelings I had after we got them home from the hospital and he was safe on the couch, where I seriously considered tying him down until he was grown. The journey of emotions from the surreal accident scene to that couch made me feel like I had just won the lottery. The feelings were overwhelming. Feelings of intense relief. Of God’s mercy. Of second chances. Each day as my fingers run over every centimeter of those scars I am reminded of how much I love my kids and husband. And how much God loves me. And how we never know for sure what we are being saved from. And how life is precious. Sometimes I forget between applications, but as soon as I touch those scars, it all comes back. Although I hope his scars eventually fade, I hope the reality of what they mean to me never does.