Healing
Photo by Diana Polekhina on Unsplash As a former athlete and musical theater participant, you would think I’d be graceful and coordinated. This is not the case. I’m kinda clumsy. In fact, as a teenager, my church youth group nicknamed me “Niagara” as in, “Niagara Falls.” I’m not better. I still have a scar on my thumb where I tried to open a cinnamon roll can with a knife. I have several burn scars from my stints in food service (and one from a fireplace). I’ve tripped four times on my morning jog- once while running from zombies (long story). The last time I tripped, I stepped off a sidewalk onto an uneven brick-paved road. I tried to jump up and continue my run, but I had scraped up my arm and leg and hurt my ego as well as my body. I walked home and cleaned myself up. It was ugly to look at. It hurt to walk. But every day the wounds shrunk and the pain was less, until only a scar was left. The pain after my fall let me know I needed to clean up and ...