Even with the Scars

I’m not vain.

At least, that’s the sentence I spoke before the surgery.

Before I had one basal cancer cell removed from my cheek. One from my forehead.

And found myself staring into the mirror, wondering who I was with stitches across my face.

The cut on my cheek is swollen, sore and much longer than I expected. The one on my forehead feels tight, a little angry.

Both feel loud.

I said I wasn’t vain. I meant it or I thought I did.

But now, I’m not so sure. Because it’s easy to not think about vanity when everything’s in place.

When your face is still your face.

When your skin is smooth and unmarked.

When nothing interrupts the version of you that you’ve come to expect.

But when that changes, even slightly…when something is cut, stitched, bruised, aging…

vanity creeps in without an invitation.

And in sitting with this vanity, I realize it’s not really about being vain. That’s just surface level emotions.

It’s really about fear.

Fear of not being good enough.

Fear of not being liked.

Fear of being seen differently.

Fear of not being lovable.

And those fears?

I know them well.

I’ve carried them.

I’ve healed parts of them.

I’ve still got pieces to go.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe:

The only source big enough to hold all that fear is God. So I return to Him. Again.

I ask:

What would You have me do, Lord?

Where would You have me go?

What would You have me wear…including this scar on my cheek, this one on my forehead, and the slow process of their healing?

and what would You have me say, and to whom?

Because I want to trust You in all…even in this.

I want to believe that maybe these scars could be sacred.

Maybe they could soften me.

Maybe they’ll help me see someone else’s pain.

Maybe they’ll remind me that healing is never just skin-deep.

Maybe they’ll teach me that beauty has always been deeper than I thought.

Even with the scars.

Maybe especially with the scars.