The scars are always there.

Every morning when I put on The Boy’s socks. Every night when I take them off.

Ugly, jagged scars starting just below the knee and going all the way down to the ankle. Right on top of the shin.

They are a reminder of a brutal surgery. The Boy’s cerebral palsy was twisting his feet out of alignment. Soon, he’d have no hope of walking ever. The only solution was to slice open both his legs, cut his tibias in half, rotate them a quarter turn, and peg them back together. Followed by six months of casts on both legs.

It was a difficult time for The Boy and for the whole family.

That was years ago. But the scars are still there.

And it would be so easy for The Boy (and me) to be defined by these scars. After all, isn’t that what we all think in our darker moments? This pain will never go away. Life will always be like this. My damage is all anyone else will ever notice.

Doesn’t matter if the damage is the result of a broken bone, broken relationship or broken promise. The hurt is real. And it demands a response.

The Boy’s response was to express the hurt and big emotions as they were fresh. And then somehow – let it go.

I don’t know how he does it, really. I think most people who know The Boy would say he is defined by laughter, friendship, the color red, and yes, the wheelchair he uses. These are the realities of his life. The scars are simply a means to an end.

And if The Boy can avoid being defined by his scars, I can too. How about you?

Through the Roof

A Blog Supported by the Mosaic ministry of Third Church, ECO

"Some men came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. 4 Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus by digging through it and then lowered the mat the man was lying on." (Mark 2:3-4)

About: This is a blog about accessibility, intimacy, and community. About being welcome.  It’s also about bringing up The Boy. He's 11 years old and has cerebral palsy. Also popping up are The TeenGirl, who just turned 13, and The Mom, who is awesome. It's written by The Dad. It's my words, my view. Other people will think differently and have different opinions. Good.