My comments on quotes from any book are typically not about the story, they are about myself, so I’m not worried about spoilers. Don’t get me wrong, I have many thoughts about how the story plays out and how it is told, but my blog isn’t a book review. It’s a journey through what I am reading, how it relates to me, and what I learn about the world and myself through the story and characters.

This one here is something we all need to remember.

“We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.” From Little Bee by Chris Cleaver

scars

Scars are only wounds that have healed over. Life leaves scars and all of them are beautiful because they remind us that there is hope. We are alive and there will be more story to tell because we survived the previous one and have learned something. This book is leaving scars on my heart in a beautiful way.

Some of my scars I can hide easily, and some are glaringly obvious to everyone that passes by.

Each time I lose my mind or throw a fit about something that seems insignificant, my scars are clearly showing. I’ve not let that wound heal properly. I’ve not learned from it yet, so it stands open and at risk to infection, spreading through my life and those around me.

The ones I hide easily are the everyday worries. The pictures I share on social media hide the anxiety about the future, the stress of wondering what the future holds, if they love me, will they leave, will I get through this event, that built up in my mind until that moment. It may look easy, like I have it all together, but you’re only seeing what I want to share, those happy moments when I overcame the anxiety and let things roll on by and into a beautiful day. I know I’m not alone.

We all carry our past into our future. I think we’re supposed to. I’d like to think at some point in our lives we should be able to open those cases and pull out our past to examine it without the pain, like running a finger over a physical scar.

It’s our past, the life we have lived, and everything leaves a mark of some kind.

I’m opening my suitcase right now, each day, pulling out that struggling relationship, that wonderous day, that event I thought would kill me, that book that broke my heart, and seeing how I grew with each one in ways I couldn’t see at the time. I run my finger over the scar and know that I’m still alive. There is work to do.

We can’t sit and hide our heads in shame because of our scars. We can’t pity those who have them, as if they are incapable of healing themselves. Instead, we smile and know they are growing wiser in this world just as we are. We can offer a bit of love and support while they do the work, because that’s what we would want.

If there was no hope, there would be no scars because we would be dead.

Read the next post inspired by this book, Little Bee: Ordered and Antiseptic