Scars

I hate mosquitoes. My blood must be the Nutella of the mosquito world because ever since I was a child I have been harassed to a ridiculous degree by mosquitoes. Not surprisingly, this abuse came to its peak when I willing chose to move to a humid tropical island for 18 months.

In the Philippines I was bitten like crazy. Knowing mosquito affinity for my blood, I came prepared with enough repellent to supposedly repel bugs for a mile but it didn't work. I kept hearing it would get better, just wait it out, eat more garlic, wear tights, put this cream on, etc. My beloved Filipina Nanays would give me every sort of concoction to keep the bugs away and to help my scars heal.Whenever I moved to a new area my beloved Filipinos would look in horror at my white legs covered in bites and scars and suggest some new remedy. Long story short, and many creams later, nothing had changed and I conceded my fate to the mosquitoes, spiders and cockroaches.

Eventually the time came for me to head back to America and I naively assumed that the scars would go away within a couple of months. Until they were faded, I would just hide them away in long pants and tights.

It didn't turn out that way.

I came home and the bites that remained got infected. I eventually went to the doctor, got legitimate medicine to help and the they eventually healed, leaving behind dark scars all down my legs. I had tried to hide the extent of the damage in photos I sent home but now the scars demanded attention. For months after coming home I tried to conceal them. It worked pretty well because the cold weather gave me a reason to cover up but eventually summer came. The time came that I had to decide-- show my scars or die of heat. I chose the former and exposed my scars to the world. At first I felt embarrassed. It really wasn't as bad as I imagined it to be but I felt like everyone was staring at my scars. And the marks just refused to go away!

Time went by and I eventually had to reexamine my thoughts. I began to see my scars, instead, as a reminder. When I saw them I remembered people that I loved, experiences that I cherished and most importantly, the internal spiritual healing that occurred as I developed these outward scars. I grew to love my scars because more than any item or photo, they reminded me of the person I had become and the person I aimed to be.

My visible scars are the result of minimal damage and pain. I realize that other's scars, both visible and not, can come at a much higher price. I meet people who have suffered so much. I read stories of people who have swam oceans to reach safety, lost loved ones in war, or suffer from internal demons that do not seem to go away. We each have scars, some we are too scared to show others. They can serve as painful reminders of suffering, but they also show the power we have to heal.

And that is the beauty I see in scars. Yes, they may be visible signs of previous damage, of pain, of a break, and yet, to me, they are symbols of change. The idea that despite our feelings of hopelessness, we have the power to heal from damage. That which once was incomplete is made whole.

I love my scars, not because they show any sacrifice on my part, but because they remind me that I am human. I am imperfect, and yet there is always the hope of healing. It may take time, wounds may reopen, but we have a lifetime and beyond to get the necessary scars to face our Savior. In 3 Nephi 9 the Savior asks us to offer up a broken heart. He asks each of us, "will you not return unto me, and repent of your sins, and be converted, that I may heal you?" Christ has the power to heal us completely but may leave a scar as a reminder of the hope we have to heal and to change.

Our Savior was not ashamed of His scars, it was the way His followers recognized Him. I believe that God sees us with our scars. He gave His son so that we could heal. We can't expect to get by in life without some damage, perhaps we were born with it, but it is our scars that help us to recognize our Savior and be recognized by Him.

Mourn with Those that Mourn

The phrase “to mourn with those that mourn” has been running through my head again and again recently. It is a call from Alma to the followers of Christ as they prepare to enter into the covenant of baptism, found in Mosiah 18:9. I have read it many times throughout my life and I have taught that it is a part of our baptismal covenant. And yet, I am quick to ignore or forget the charge to show empathy. In the chaos that is our lives and despite our attempts at discipleship, we often forget that we have covenanted to show compassion. It is easier to mark off our outward signs of obedience from a spiritual ‘to do’ list than it is to seek empathy for those in distress.

This command to mourn with those that mourn and comfort those that stand in need of comfort has no qualifying statement. It isn’t saying to only comfort those who are easy to get along with. It doesn’t ask to only mourn with those that are the same as you. Instead we are to seek out those with burdens too great to bear on their own, no matter their circumstances. This is what Christ did and what he calls us to do.

            These words first become fixed in my mind this week when they were spoken at a training by a volunteer on the rape crisis team for the area. She was asked why she continues to volunteer and she said that it was her opportunity to mourn with those that mourn. I have been surrounded lately by men and women who do not put up a pretense of being perfect, and yet they strive to reach out to those who are victimized, mistreated, neglected, or forgotten. I see the Redeemer in their actions, even if religion is not their motivation. God does not ask us to change the world, He asks that we simply “mourn with those that mourn.” To me this means refraining from judgement, offering a listening ear, and doing your best to empathize and feel a portion of their pain. No one demonstrated this better than the Savior.

            I, like most people, have been astounded by the number of violent acts occurring around the world. No matter the cause nor the perpetrator of such violence, we are asked to mourn with those affected. In our efforts to have compassion for these victims, we cannot forget to also have compassion upon those within our sphere of influence. There is such a need locally to reach out to the poor, the refugee, the victim, the depressed. Thus, our covenant to show compassion is meant to be for all humankind, but is especially important for those on whom we can and do have an influence.

            I want to share a recent experience concerning a girl I completely admire and love I met in the Philippines. Her name is Amysthea and I was influenced by her example from the first time we met. She was a funny, cheerful girl in her late teens to whom you couldn't help but attach yourself. I later met her entire family and grew to love them all individually. We quickly learned that Amysthea acted as a part time mother for her family. Her father was away working most of the year so Amysthea would cook and sell food in the morning, watch her siblings, disciplining them when necessary, and take care of the house. This was all on top of the necessary hours she spent at school.

I heard from Amysthea this week that things are not going well for her family. Her mother has been in the hospital and has many medical problems. In order to care for her mother, Amysthea and her sister alternate missing days of school to stay at home. This young 19-year-old girl has taken on the role of caretaker for her family, sacrificing her schooling and her time for them.

News about their family came at a time when I was feeling overwhelmed. I was struggling and this news about a beloved family seemed, at first, to be another burden. Suddenly, however, my problems seemed to fade. I felt chastened as the thought to “mourn with those that mourn” came into my mind and I was filled with empathy. I thought of the many times Amysthea had reached out to me, even when her family was under so much strain. She continues to be a light for others and I hope to lightened some of her burden. 

Amysthea showed me what it means to be “willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.”As we carry each other’s burdens and find compassion for those in sorrow we follow in the footsteps of our Savior.