Growing up, I never thought I would ever get a tattoo. I had no desire to have a permanent mark on my body and couldn’t imagine a design pretty enough to be worth the pain. I wasn’t alone in my thinking because my sister, cousin, and I even made a pact promising each other we would never get one.
But ten years later, I broke the pact with a small cross and semicolon tattoo on my left wrist. (Fortunately for me, my fellow pact members went easy on me as they were excited to hear the news and/or had already been looking into designs for themselves.) This first tattoo was tiny, smaller than a square inch, but it summed up a long story I would never be able to share completely.
Last August I got my second tattoo- “Love them anyway” – on my right forearm. As I was in Hawaii at the time and spending time near the water, the tattoo artist placed a plastic cover over my arm when he was finished and reminded me that my tattoo was an open wound until it healed.
Looking back, I remember that for each of these tattoos, I had had the idea of what I wanted in my mind for a while, until I finally reached the point of feeling like it was the right time to get it. I realize that it seemed like the right time, when I felt like I had lived out enough of what the tattoos meant to me.
I remember looking down at my arms in the first few days after getting my tattoos, just staring at them and thinking of how they’d be there forever. But now since it’s been a while, sometimes I forget they’re there. Especially during the winter season, sometimes it’s not until I roll up my sleeves and look down that I remember them and think of what they mean to me. But I think this is part of what makes them special. Something meaningful that life has etched into my heart has been permanently etched into my skin. Whether or not they’re visible, they’re always there, and they mean more than I could ever explain to anyone. Only God really knows.
I think it’s the same with the pain and wounds life gives us. There are some wounds that stay with us forever in our earthly lives, like a scar we will always have, a permanent mark that may or may not hurt every day, sometimes visible, sometimes tucked away where no one can see.
There was a time when I hated some of the scars life gave me, because they are the kind that will always be with me. They are the kind that have hurt every day since I received them. But after some time, I saw these wounds and the scars left behind in a new way that I could appreciate. Now I appreciate scars and wounds for being the marks through which I experience God most closely.
I could spend an evening listening to a friend talk about a wound, how it happened, who gave it to them, what led up to it, how much it hurts, what fears it has instilled. We could get together and talk every evening until she felt that she had told me everything. But after some length of time, she would have something else to share, something she forgot to tell me, something that made her remember it, someone that wasn’t sensitive to her wound, something that made her afraid it would never stop hurting. No matter how much time I devote to listening to her, I will never know everything there is to know about that wound. I will never completely comprehend the depth of the pain or the complexities of its impact, and it would be impossible to be there for comfort during all the small moments it hurts.
It’s one of the best things about life that we can share with our friends and loved ones, and not be alone in our pain. But God is the only one who understands completely and is truly there always, in the darkest parts of night when we can’t sleep because of our wounds; when we’re in a room full of people and, above all the noise, we can still hear the words that left scars behind.
When people ask me what my tattoos mean, I give varying answers, usually depending on my relationship to the person or the amount of time I have to explain. My short answer for my cross/semicolon tattoo is that it means to continue with Jesus. My short answer for my “love them anyway” tattoo is that is inspired by Mother Teresa. But even to the close friends with whom I’ve shared more, I will never be able to fully explain the meanings. That makes them special because God is the only one who knows it all, and seeing them is a reminder not only of their individual meanings, but also of how I’m fully known by God, how He sees and understands all my wounds, and in this way, loves me in a way that no one else can. I hope the same for anyone healing from a wound, for anyone with a scar up their sleeve that may always be with them in some way. I hope when you look down, you are reminded of how God sees you, knows you, and loves you like no other.
“He heals the broken-hearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 147:3
“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”
Psalm 56:8