We are the walking wounded

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.