In my Junior year, BFF and I stole my brother’s bicycle for an exhilarating early-morning bike-ride through our neighbourhood. We felt rebellious, free, nervous and excited, all at the same time! Some call it karma, some plain bad luck, but at the steepest downhill, my front wheel slid out from under me. In an attempt to save Brother’s new bicycle, I dived, head first, full speed into a heap of bricks.
Needless to say, no one was very impressed when we - wheel in one hand, bike in the other and bloodstained shirt, - rang the doorbell. My brother, probably least of all. But, they had to park their anger and take us to Casualty. Today, years later, I still have a scar the size of a match-box on my left shoulder. All thanks to that one eventful morning.
We all have scars. Some not so visible. Some, much deeper - a scar on the soul.
Few things are as colourful and impressive as a mosaic. It is a complex art, a tradition that dates as far back as the 11th century. It is a skill that was craft-fully transferred from generation to generation. Hundreds of fragmented pieces of glass, tiles or broken mirror bits arranged to breathtaking works of art. A picture with a story. Small fragments of color, all carefully placed with time and precision, to create a masterpiece. A lot like our lives ...
The thing with a mosaic is that it's not the perfect tile or flawless piece of glass that makes it unique. To expose it’s full glory, each piece first had to break. Every portion arranged alongside hundreds of other imperfect particles to reveal one perfect picture. Mosaic is not a flawless, untouched artwork, it's one that's wrecked, re-shaped, and glued together. One, that needed to shatter, perhaps.
If you stand too close to a mosaic it is a kaleidoscope of colours – meaningless. You would have to squint to even try make sense of it all.
But once you take a few steps back, you gain perspective. You see it for what it is. You see it through the Creator’s eyes.
In a similar way, each one of our scars, represents a tile. Each day, a glass shard. A particle which in the bigger picture, epitomises a period of our being. Every bit, not necessarily our best choices or most perfect moments, but everything a illustration of what has brought us to where we are today. What makes us who we are.
When new skin forms, it is a sign of curing. An open wound cannot produce a scar. A lot of healing needs to take place before a scar is formed.
So, when you’re standing in front of the mirror again, looking at the scars on your heart and body, take a second look. Pat yourself on the back – because growth took place. Take a few steps back, so you can see the full picture.
Embrace the unique mosaic that makes you, you! The decisions that helped shape the person smiling back at you in the mirror. Look differently at your mistakes. For as long as we live, we learn. And remember, our scars make us whole, not broken.