Monday, November 14, 2011

My wounds are healed

I used to wish that I could rewrite history
I used to dream that each mistake could be erased
Then I could just pretend
I never knew the me back then

I used to pray that You would take this shame away
Hide all the evidence of who I've been
But it's the memory of
The place You brought me from
That keeps me on my knees
And even though I'm free

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

I have not lived a life that boasts of anything
I don't take pride in what I bring
But I'll build an altar with
The rubble that You've found me in
And every stone will sing
Of what You can redeem

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar

Don't let me forget
Everything You've done for me
Don't let me forget
The beauty in the suffering

Heal the wound but leave the scar
A reminder of how merciful You are
I am broken, torn apart
Take the pieces of this heart
And heal the wound but leave the scar
-Point Of Grace

I have a lot of thoughts and mixed emotions that come to my mind when I look at this picture (or when I look in the mirror) but the top three are this.

1. A little bit of surprise: I can't believe that's my stomach and my scar.
2. Lots of emotion: There's so much of my life that's packed into those marks on my stomach
3. Fuzzy polka dot jammies are awesome! 

Six months ago I was still so emotionally wrecked that, even though I was doing well physically, I was still not *well* (whatever that means exactly) and I didn't like being around a lot of people or going out anywhere because I wasn't used to that after spending over a year in bed.

I wasn't able to get up and go to church every Sunday morning. I wasn't able to workout with my friend. I wasn't able to do line dancing with my brothers at a hoedown last year. I wasn't able to sing at church during our congregational songs because I was short of breath. And I was definitely not able to hold down a full-time job as a waitress (at Rolling Meadows) and drive myself around town in my own car.

My wounds are healed and I bear the scars. Jesus carries scars too and because of his, we can be partakers in Heaven if we repent of our sins and believe in Christ. Because of mine, I can point others to his. 

Are your wounds healed? Is there purpose in your scars?

Sunday, November 6, 2011

I wish...

Have you ever wished you could go back in time and visit with yourself? Kinda like those movies that show someone meeting up with their future or past selves and fixing mistakes or having do-overs and learning a new lesson. I would just be happy to be able to go back to my 19 year old self and talk with her while she was lying in that hospital bed after just hearing the news that her kidneys had failed and what that was going to mean. 

This was taken in my dialysis corner after I dyed my hair for the first time.

I wish I could have told her that the next year and a half would be the hardest year of her life but that she would come out stronger because of it. That there would be a lot of pain but it wouldn't last forever so just hold on. That awful things were going to happen but she would never be alone.

I wish I could have told her to start dialysis sooner, to be more careful, to try harder to live while hooked to a machine or an I.V. pole. That her dialysis nurse would be difficult to work with and that she would be the youngest person in that dialysis center which kept the staff on their toes. That the side effects of dialysis would be miserable, she would almost pass out one day and she would go straight to the hospital from dialysis another day. That she should have bought more DS games to pass the time. That the dialysis center would be the most depressing place she'd ever been in but that it would give her perspective.

Wish I had told her to wear the mask and care more about her health than the stupid kids that looked at her weird

I wish I could have told her to think kinder thoughts towards the people that cared but didn't know how to show it and instead made her feel like they didn't care. That people don't know what to say or do so instead of possibly doing something wrong, they wouldn't do or say anything at all without knowing that not doing anything was the worst thing they could do. That it was ok to tell people she was tired, or felt bad, or didn't want to talk about her kidneys. That most people had no idea what was happening in her life and wouldn't understand when she tried to explain what she was feeling. That not even her family would know how to support her but that some would do their best and really try.

I wish she would have known that her feelings were normal, that she shouldn't have felt that she couldn't be honest, that she would have worked harder to articulate her feelings instead of clamming up about them. That she should never have been afraid to say how she felt or let herself believe that she was wrong for being scared. That it's tough being tough and it's ok to cry.

Didn't think she'd make it to 20. 

I wish I could have told her that the surgery would not make everything instantly better. That the kidney transplant was not an easy fix to kidney failure. That she would feel worse after the transplant before she felt better. That it would take almost 6 months before she had enough energy to do normal things again. That she needed to avoid large crowds and too much stimulation because she wasn't used to that after spending a year in bed. I wish she would have known that it was ok to take things slow.

I wish I could have warned her that she would get so sick she wouldn't be able to think clearly and that this was normal. I wish I could have hugged her when she felt so sick and hopeless that she wanted to end her own life. I wish I could have helped her make better choices. I wish I could have showed her the before and after pictures of her life to help her hang on when she didn't believe she would ever look pretty (read: not sick) again. 

I wish I could have told her that one day she wouldn't feel ugly and sick but that she would feel more beautiful and healthy than she'd ever felt.

I wish she wouldn't have given up on God so easily. I wish I could have told her to let go of her plans readily because holding onto them would only make her bitter and angry. That she can and will move forward once she lets go of the past and takes the future one step at a time, seeking God's will for each step ahead.

I wish I could have made her believe that one day she would be well again. That she would be able to have fun and visit her friends again. That she would learn how to drive and that she would get a job. I wish she wouldn't stress over college.

I wish she would stop looking over her shoulder towards the past and instead looked ahead and would enjoy the life she has ahead of her.