My stories are like windows, giving glimpses into myself that I do not see otherwise. I’ve been hiding from the blog (long story why, but I didn’t want to face myself reflected in my blog writing), but I’m here.
To share something just for you. In my current head story, Chases The Sun tells this old Indian legend to a girl she rescued from a group of Aldmeri (it doesn’t really matter who they are right now).
You know, once I heard a story of a wolf. He was kept by a tribe to help in their hunts and bring down meat to feed them all. He loved his people, and loved helping them in their work. But in a cold hard winter, meat grew scarce. The tribe was starving, and getting angry. Everyone blamed everyone else, and in the end, all blamed the wolf. Bitter, mistreated and starving, the wolf escaped and ran away. He hunted alone, and had very little to eat. Then one day, quite by accident, he wandered into a snowy glade in the woods where an old woman was resetting a rabbit trap. The wolf stopped, about to retreat into the trees, but the old woman just walked slowly away, leaving a piece of meat on the ground. The wolf ate it gladly and lay down in the shelter of the trees. The next day the woman returned and left meat for the wolf a second time. On the third day, as she turned to leave, she said to the air, “Resentment is a worm devouring the fruit of a man,” and left. The fourth day, the wolf waited to see if she would say anything and was rewarded by a second proverb, “loneliness is a winter to the soul that cannot be lifted but for the touch of friendship’s spring”. The wolf knew deeply how true this was. On the fifth day, her words to him were simple: “the scars of one man brings healing to another”. But on the sixth day, when she turned to leave, she was silent. The wolf, finishing his meat, looked up in disappointment. He whined and, going up to the old woman, nudged her hand. She turned and smiled. “You are more than your scars, my friend. Scars do not define a man or a wolf.”
As I heard it, the wolf and the old woman went on to do great things, and the wolf turned the scars of his hardships into healing for many. He even saved a child from drowning once, and was known throughout the land for his courage. But his greatest victory he ever achieved was over himself, when he became more than the scars he bore.
I don’t want this post to be about me. It’s for you. You are the only you there is. You have scars, but they do not define you. They have shaped you, but you are not the sum total of your scars, of the sorrow and betrayal and fear and loss and shame that have left their mark on you in the course of life.
You are more than the choices that you’ve made
You are more than the sum of your past mistakes
You are more than the problems you create
You Are More by Tenth Avenue North
My scars chain me. They are a constant battle. I have moments of victory and moments of depression. These last weeks have been dragged down into depression. You have moments of ups and downs too, I’m sure. And if this is down period for you…
You are more…
You will make it through this. You will rise the stronger if you keep fighting. You’re drowning with no one to see or hear, no one to help, and even God, who you thought was always right beside you and all-powerful, feels light years away. You struggle in vain, you call on Him to no use, little realizing that the waves that threatened you are stilling in obedience to His voice, and the peace and comfort that soothe you are His. You haven’t drowned. And maybe, just maybe your swimming’s improved (though right now it doesn’t feel like it or even seem likely).
You will reach the summit. You’ll look around and breathe deeply, drinking in the view. The climb is worth it. You are more than your scars. And if you let yourself be more, you will be capable of great things. You can bring healing to others because of the pain you once went through too.
This was the one thing I needed to hear (and little dreamed that I would hear that one thing from myself!), and I felt that you might need someone to tell you.