When his dad was about four years old, he split his forehead open and bled buckets on the way to the hospital. He has an excellent scar from that fall. My baby bro had his share of stitches, too, and earned one scar in almost the exact same spot as Little Man. I have my own scars, but mostly from falls, scrapes and burns.
Goodness gracious, those times can be scary -- the falls, the blood, the tears -- but the scars we earn tell stories, don't they? A book I read recently -- The Light Between Oceans -- called scars "just another kind of memory."
I imagine by the time that child is ten, he'll have a slew of stories to tell, and memories to share.
Today I'm feeling thankful that Little Man is fine and good, that his bumps and bruises will fade, and that his scars will tell good stories one day.
Do your scars tell a good story? Go on, be grateful!
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