not just a "scar."

yesterday i had yet another reminder of why i absolutely ADORE working with children.

it's been awhile since i've been immersed in the public school scene, and i am falling quite comfortably back into my old niche amidst the hustle and bustle of the playground, times tables and learning how to share and have manners.

i'd forgotten how much joy, laughter and smiles those little buggers bring (my voice has also forgotten how to stay at an elevated volume for hours on end--i'm hoarse!) and have really enjoyed getting to know the littles that frequent the after school program i'm teaching for the rest of the school year.

it's fun to get students in an "after school" environment. it's a different mentality and allows (and encourages) more time for play and fun (after, of course, homework).

but today i was reminded on a deeper level of another reason

why i have missed working with kiddos.

i was spending time teaching one of the younger girls how to finger knit, and she was firing off a gazillion questions to me about my family. who is your husband? what does he look like? do you have a daughter or a son? do you have a sister? do you have a mom and dad?

and on and on and on...

after learning i'd recently had a baby, she asked, "what is your son's name Mrs. Whitney?"

"His name is Kai," i replied. "it is a Hawaiian name, and means Ocean."

"oh," she exclaimed reflecting on my response.

silence.

{big smile}

"is his middle name yodee?"

"like coy-ote?" I said...

{loud shrieking giggles}

SO CUTE!

then she asked to see pictures of the baby boy, so i dug my blackberry out of my purse...

i showed her a few from when he was just a tiny babe, before his surgery when he had tape on his face for his cleft lip. i even had a picture from right after his operation that i showed her, and explained to her that his lip was fixed now, but he would have a scar there forever.

that squirmy, hyper, bouncing girl just sat there, quietly taking in Kai's story.

i thought maybe she was feeling sorry for my baby, or scared of what i'd shown her (as many young children are, especially of the pictures of his lip before it was corrected).

she just sat there staring at a photo of his smiling healing scarred lip and after a  few moments of silence, said in the most innocent, reassuring voice,

"Mrs. Whitney scars aren't a bad thing you know."

"Nope, they sure arent," i agreed.

"I have a scar too," she nonchalantly remarked.
"it's a lot bigger than your baby's, but it's a happy scar."

"Really?" i say, assuming she was going to show me the scar of a healed bike accident or tree-climbing incident.

i then watched as carefully, with the timid hesitation of a child before revealing their top-secret hiding spot, she pulled the front collar of her purple tee-shirt down to reveal the beginning of a deep, raised, large scar that, she indicated with the trace of her tiny finger ran far down the middle of her small chest.

"my scar is a happy scar because it reminds me of my new heart, she beamed. "it's a strong, healthy heart."

i didn't respond just then because i knew i would burst into tears.

i just smiled and gave her a little squeeze, trying to contain myself and choke back the emotion that so eagerly wanted to come streaming down my cheeks.

that moment was just {another} of those little reminders God sends,

just for you

to let you know you are right where he wants you to be.

someday i will re-tell this story to Kai, and pray that he will find the same strength and pride reflected back at him each time he looks in the mirror, and {sees} the story of his scar.

so thank you, sweet second-grade girl for inspiration, encouragement and affirmation that we all have scars--some just more visible than others--that tell stories of hope, second chances, healing, and in the most powerful form of all, forgiveness.

 "After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. 

The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord"

(John 20:20 NIV).