Thank My Lucky Scars

I was scraping paint on an unusual 45F day in St. Louis. I dropped my glasses and a lense popped out. All the Dad's kids and all the Dad's wives couldn't find it. I was discouraged. So I took a walk. A walk fogged by my poor eyesight. Another weakness. Another scar.

But I was listening to music and the Foo Fighters (once again, what is it about those guys?) said "thank my lucky scars". And I stopped.

Of course. As I walked in a 20-100 fog I could see the richness, the depth, the beauty of the world around me. I have teens and while they are wonderful kids, they see the world in such flat, prosaic tones. It takes time, pain, indeed, scars to see the world in all it's glory. The way God meant it to be seen.

And to see God's redemptive plan. To understand the incredible love of Jesus Christ, one must be a sinner. A real sinner. Not a "oops! I gossiped" or "criminy! I said a bad word" sinner, but someone like me who has done things that he is truly ashamed of. Then God's mercy really means something.

Only through that do you learn how to thank your lucky scars.

Note: Originally I posted this as "count" my lucky scars - it's count my blessings and thank my lucky scars. I can be such a twit.