The Purpose of a Scar

Yesterday, the final bandage came off of Max's nose. We kept it as clean and dry as we could but it came off anyway. Of course the plastic surgeon said this would happen, but he also paired that with the statement, "The longer you can keep that on, the less scarring you will see." Good motivation to keep it on as long as possible.

In the weeks leading up to the surgery, I worried about the surgery and Nelson worried about the size of the scar that would be left on Max's face. To me, the scar was a small price to pay. To Nelson...it was his FACE.

As the sun shone through the window in my bathroom and I finally took off the bandage that was now hanging by a thread, the scar was revealed. It was, as the surgeon warned, much larger than what we had seen on the surface. However, as far as scars go, and considering there were five stitches, I thought it looked great. I'm guessing when the irritation goes down and the skin gets a chance to heal, it will hardly be noticeable (at least that's what I told Nelson).

Tonight though, it jumped out at me when I gave Max a kiss. For a brief moment, I felt bad. Of course, every time I do this, I remind myself of Harrison Ford. He has a facial scar and did pretty well for himself...looks pretty good too if you ask me.

However, tonight I was not thinking about Harrison Ford. I was thinking about the scar. Scars serve as a reminder of how something that was hurt has healed. Max's reminds me of how scary the whole ordeal was and how little a remnant of it is left. It reminds me that we can make it. We can heal. It reminds me of God's care for my boy.

That little scar is beautiful, because it is now a part of Max. And Max, well, he's beautiful because he's Max.