We are the walking wounded.
We are everywhere, behind you in the checkout line, 3 seats over in
church, our kids go to school with your kids, we grew up together and laughed
and loved before life became hard. Our
wounds don’t all look the same. Some of
us are innocent, some of us guilty. Some
of us have scars from this broken world, what was done to us, against us. Some of us battle depression, an assault in
our heart and mind. Some of us the
wounds come from words like, cancer, heart attack, death. Some of us the scars are from other words
like affair and divorce. Some of us have
followed a calling on our lives, taking us away from family, friends, and
country, where days can be long and tiresome and results less than we
hoped. Some of us the call is in our own
homes, pain so close you can touch it every day. Some of us are mothers who have held our
babies only in our hearts; we wonder who they would have looked like, the sound
of their laugh. Our wounds are different
but the same. They keep us up at night,
they make Christmas hard. Memories are
our best friends and worst enemies, they sneak up on us, bring us to tears in a
moment. They make worship a holy
experience. They make us hold others at
a distance. They bring judgment,
condemnation. They make us who we are,
how we see the world.
There are some who share my wounds; their children have
known me as mom. Theirs, like some of
ours, are wounds of choice. They have
chosen to satisfy their flesh, they are addicts of drugs, men, self. Some of us have chosen to deny self, to
satisfy Him who called, though it cost our hearts we follow. Our wounds are shared. We will miss the same children, the same
smiles, the same sticky fingers. We will
whisper their names out loud in the night to not forget the sound of it on our
tongue. We will carry these scars our
entire lives, we will always be mom and yet never be mom again.
I pray He is with those who share my wounds….those that miss
the same children I miss. I pray they look
up and find Him close, because He is. He
shares our wounds and loves the same children we love.
We are the walking wounded and we are everywhere….but so is
He. He has overcome this broken world;
He brings words of hope and peace. For
some of us He brings healing in this life, for some just the promise of it in
the next. For some of us He is found in
the middle of the pain, when we can’t go on on our own, He is there, He binds
are wounds and whispers His love. He
renews, He restores, He redeems. For
some of us comfort is in visions of babies being held by a Man with scars in
His hands. He is there in the night, He
is Emmanuel. He dries our tears. He makes worship holy. He brings others to our side. He condemns every tongue that rises against
us in judgment, for our righteousness is from Him.
We are the walking wounded, different but the same. We share wounds in this broken world….and by
His wounds we are healed.
