I Am Not A Ninja

I am going to have a new scar right under my jawline. But like most scars do, this one is going to have an awesome story to accompany it. I’m going to call it my Ninja scar.

A couple of weeks ago, I woke up with horrific ear pain. It was so bad, I was fighting back tears. Not wanting to wake Terry, I decided to sneak quietly out of bed and slip down the hall to Michala’s room. My goal was to be stealth-like; to move quickly and without noise, like a ninja, out of our room.

As soon as my feet hit the floor, I knew things were about to go terribly, terribly wrong. The ringing in my ears became so loud; the few times in my life I have fainted, my ears rang before I hit the floor. I felt like I was on a ship that had capsized and I could not get my bearings. The last thing I wanted to do was make any noise getting out of bed and wake up Terry.

The crash of my fall in the pitch black darkness made plenty of noise, so that took care of that.

Clearly, I am not a ninja.

I had just managed to open the door where the lights from downstairs we left on, immediately woke Terry, but while he was trying to figure out why I was walking out of the room, I collapsed, taking anything and everything nearby, down with me.

I was so sick that night and my precious love took such sweet care of me. Y’all know being sick is not pretty, but what an act of love for him to sit beside me throughout all of it. He brought cold, wet towels for me to place on my face and neck, and brought a pillow for my head as I tried to still myself, on the floor. Immediately, my jaw and neck felt the pain and I said to Terry, “I am going to have some serious bruising tomorrow.”

My fever was pretty high and I was so hot. I wasn’t making much sense because I kept telling him, “The floor in Michala’s room will make me feel better.” That’s insanity, right there. Our bed is the most comfortable bed on earth, so why I thought the hardwood floors would make me feel better, who knows?

For people who see me on a frequent basis, you know I’m typically covered in scrapes and bruises, anyway. I’m the least graceful person most people know. But to have it on my face/neck area is a new thing. The next morning when I woke up, I noticed first how I felt incredibly weak. Second was the pain along my jawline, and when I lifted my hand to touch it, I felt the gash. There was blood all over my pillow, indicating I had not only bruised myself but had been cut in the fall.

“For he wounds, but he also binds up; he injures, but his hands also heal.” - Job 5:18

I think our scars are talking points. We can share our “battle wounds,” so to speak, with others, and poke fun at ourselves, even. But sometimes, our scars are not visible. People cannot see the broken pieces of our hearts. Those scars are more precious, I believe. Because those scars tell God’s story, not ours. Those scars tell someone else who is hurting, “I have been there. I understand your pain. But let me tell you something incredible … God is not going to waste your heartache. He is going to redeem it for His glory! He is going to piece your broken pieces back together, but they will never be the same. You know why? Because His glue is going to be what shines through you, and you will get to share your hurt with someone else, and reassure them of God’s supernatural strength!”

I am not a ninja. But my scars will serve as a reminder of that awful night when I was so sick, throughout the night; but how God sent a helpmate to me. He sent the love of my life to sit with me on the bathroom floor when I was so sick, and carry me back to bed. He sent someone who would love me in spite of my scars; the visible and the invisible ones. Isn’t it such a beautiful gift to see how God fulfills His promises?

Every single time I look at my Terry, I see the face of God, and His redemption.

What a Good Good Father He is to give this man to me!