every morning, i carry my little boy downstairs when he wakes up. we go to the couch to cuddle. warm and limp from sleep, he is heaviest in these morning moments, groggy. he holds on to my neck but the rest of his body just falls over my arms, dangling.
he is getting so big, so tall.
when i carry him like this, every morning, my growing boy's foot now naturally falls at the top of my thigh. his chubby little foot hits right at a scar on my leg. a scar that i've had since i was exactly his age.
i was a toddler. i was sick. i had surgery, stitches, full recovery, and now a scar about 2inches long. it's still tender to the touch, but otherwise my scar goes unnoticed.
until morning, when i carry my sleepy boy downstairs and his foot hits it.
it stings. a shooting shock goes from the scar up and down my leg, all the way up my spine. i wince in pain as i step and his foot hits. step, hit, ouch. step, hit, ouch.
there are only 14 stairs, maybe 35 foot steps, from Bubba's bedroom, down the stairs, and to the couch. but every step i hurt. at the same time, every step i love. i'm carrying my baby. my sleepyhead snuggler. my boy. my warrior.
my first cup of coffee is still hot and i hear him calling me over the baby monitor. he's awake. i don't even think about my scar when i go up the stairs to get him out of bed. it doesn't even cross my mind that when i lift him, his foot will kick my scar. repeatedly. and there's nothing i can do about it.
but, i know this. and it doesn't stop me. i don't give the job to someone else. i don't NOT carry my child. because i will endure any pain to love him. to comfort him. to hold him. unconditionally.
hmmmm. this sounds familiar...
"I'm absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic,
today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—
absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love
because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us."
my scar and this morning routine is not unlike Jesus' love for us. we are all His children. Jesus came to carry us to salvation. He gave His life for us so that we can have eternal life with Him. He still has the scars, smooth and tender to the touch. every day He carries us, He forgives us. does it send a shooting pain through His scars? maybe. when He hears us calling, does He consider the scars on His hands before He comes to rescue us? no. He loves us. He loves us and endured death to love us. to comfort us. to hold us. unconditionally. in His forever scarred hands.
my scar is little and the pain goes away, but my love for my children is big and everlasting.
i am thankful for a God that loves me with a love like that. a God who's scars are a beautiful, forever reminder - to me and to Him - of what my salvation cost.
and a God who reminds me of such truths every morning.