My daughter has a tiny scar next to her mouth from a fall out of bed years ago. Tonight, as I tucked her into bed, I noticed that it glinted subtly silvery in the glow of the night-light. It is beautiful to me although I remember the night that she fell out of her bed with a cringe, even four years later.
I know that my insides are full of unseen scars. After seeing the beauty of my daughter's scar tonight, I imagined the inside of my body held together by a mass of silvery threads- the glittery by-product of years of hurt. A body truly held together by shiny threads-- threads which once burned with pain but have weathered into beauty.
Our scars are what make us different from one another.
And, what makes us different and unique is what makes us beautiful.
Your beauty doesn't lie in perfection. The real beauty is often in the scars and the pain and how we carry ourselves when we are weighted down with burden.
I see your scars. And, I think they are beautiful.