Scars: Thoughts on the American Revolution and its Relevance Today

 Scars.

They come in all shapes and sizes and emerge for different reasons. A fall from a bike. Chickenpox. Poison ivy. An abuser’s hand.

Those are physical scars. But what of emotional scars? Bullying. Rejection. Betrayal. An abuser’s hand or tongue.

Some can be seen. Some we cover up with makeup, smiles, lies. How do we treat them? How do we learn to live with and even embrace them?

I’m working through a period of scars. Physically, poison ivy has been raging through my body for nearly two weeks, laughing at my attempts to ward it off. Midway through a second course of steroids which, if not administered carefully can leave their own set of scars, I’m still scratching. Lotions and potions and baths and busyness have all helped but not eradicated the roaring rash.

Emotionally, I’m experiencing a bit of a jolt. I applied quite a bit of effort to a writing project and its attendant requirements, which included not a few hours of classwork and out-of-the-box thinking, all of which have been rejected by the powers that be. I feel badly for myself and the folks who partnered with me in prayer and devoted time to helping me perfect the piece I submitted for publication. I’ve written about this sort of thing before when it took the wind out of my sails, deflated my balloon – pick your metaphor.

Yesterday, though, when I absorbed the news that my work had not made the cut, disappointment rather than dejection entered my soul. This may be less than rising above, but it certainly beats going under.

In my book, that’s progress.

Today I’m going to a holiday gathering to celebrate our nation’s 250th birthday. I’m going red, white, and blotchy. Our nation deserves to be celebrated, even though a citizen born nearly 200 years after its inception has a rash. The founding fathers don’t care that I look less than beautiful today. On my best day I can only manage attractive, but I try not to let that stand in my way.

It’s not about that. Physical beauty comes and goes. It’s about the beauty of an idea born 25 decades ago and why that still matters today.

It’s also not about an editor’s dismissal of my attempt to contribute to the national dialogue. If victory had been Lincoln’s criterion for participation, he would have stepped aside after the first of many personal and professional losses.

A side note here: in the preceding paragraph, I chose the word victory over its synonym, success, believing that success encompasses much more than material victory. In fact, failure has a funny way of spurring humanity onto future success.

Let that sink in.

So, I’m choosing to let the scars form and be what they are. Scars represent trying. No one who sits home growing roots on the couch sports many scars. I remember years back in my educational career, I was assisting students in a gym class. PE has never been my forte. In fact, in my younger years, it was more like my nemesis. That said, I tried to rally the kids I was working with by joining into the day’s activity, which happened to be running the track. Ludicrous is too kind a word for a middle-aged, out of shape, uncoordinated woman trying to run laps. But I egged on the kids using my defects as leverage.

“I’m an old lady! “I bellowed. “If I can do it, you can at least try to do it!”

The gym teacher followed my challenge with his own words of wisdom.

“You know what, kids? Mrs. Williams showed up today. She’s not home watching TV. She’s getting out there and participating. Let’s all join her.”

I wish I could say everyone jumped on the bandwagon then and there, but we still had some slackers. I’d like to think, though, that a few kids who otherwise might have settled for less than their best instead gave it a shot.

Giving it a shot. What a concept.

So, instead of wearing red, white and blue today, I’ll throw on the most comfortable thing I can find, color notwithstanding, and rejoice with family and friends. The rosy bumps and areas I’ve scratched black and blue over lily-white skin can serve as patriotic colors.

Instead of my article showing up in a national forum, I’ll be posting it on my blog. I’m forever thankful for the faithful readers whose interest and encouragement has kept that platform alive for over 15 years.

Showing up. What a concept.

The American Revolution left scars, scars, and more scars. No one comes through war or any kind of overhaul, for that matter, without scars. It’s the nature of the beast. Breakage often precedes building. We break ground before erecting buildings and planting crops. We break the skin to perform surgery. And we break chains before exercising the freedom those chains denied.

I’m including a list of Scriptures that celebrate the perseverance upon which the United States of America was founded. Our country was built on strength, sustenance, and solutions, all of which came from unseen hands which are no less present today than they were 250 years ago. God bless America, and God bless the spirit of pluck that can’t be extinguished by setbacks. God bless us, everyone.