I was finishing my Coke route at the Shur Valu in Bayfield, loading up the
empties, when I pulled down the bay door on my bottle truck. I had failed to
notice the broken top on one bottle, but my right arm didn’t, cutting it so fast
I didn’t feel it, but saw the blood running down it. Going into the store, I
was given a roll of paper towels, and applied pressure like I learned in Boy
Scouts, called the warehouse, and waited 25 minutes for someone to arrive to
take me to get sewed up. Bayfield for all its 631 inhabitants had no medical
facilities, so to Mercy Hospital in Durango, Bailey took me. As the blood
continued to seep past the roll of paper towels, Bailey showed great courage in
not looking, perhaps the greatest example of tunnel vision I can offer. And he
was to drive me back so I could finish my route, this time with more color in
his face, but at the hospital when Terry Young, my boss met me, he almost
fainted when they unwrapped my arm. The skin had spread wide open, and the 8" cut looked worse than it was, skin is elastic and it had stretched with no
pressure on it, exposing all the things skin is designed to hide. But some 32
stitches later I was back in Bayfield, finished my route, with a story to tell
Theresa that night. Today I have an 8" scar to show what happened, but in this
pre-tattoo era, I had learned that scars are tattoos with better stories.
After my open heart surgery, my diet was restricted, and today I still
maintain a low sodium diet. But I had been on a low carb, diabetic diet,
interpretation no flavor, and so-called healthy food was hard to find. Ask the
restaurant for a nutritional info sheet, look under sodium, then go into shock!
But we had found a few places who would cook to order, and at the Outback in Rio
Rancho, I had finished my meal of steak, no seasoning, and lots of broccoli.
LOTS of broccoli! And still being unsteady, Theresa walked me to the men’s
room, the joke of me being a 200 pound toddler was true, as I still couldn’t
take care of myself, imagine a 4 year old mentality in a 200+ pound body, still
medicated-she had her hands full. But while in the men’s room, as I was
leaving, a man had lifted up his shirt to inspect his new tattoo. He was all
smiles as he looked at it from different angles, so I stood next to him, and
lifted up my shirt! Exposing my 12 inch scar, the five drain hole scars which
looked like bullet wounds, and the two pic lines-one a scar, the other still I
my left arm. His eyes got huge, I don’t know how much he paid for his tattoo,
but my half a million dollar scar had his beat-and that without even hearing the
story and the miracles behind it-just standing for me was a miracle! My scar
was definitely better than his tattoo-no way he could match my story. And I
hope he never has to.
I go through periods of loneliness sometimes, deeper than just missing
someone. And when asking God about it, He explained I was having a Moses
moment. His explanation was simple-when Moses came down off the mountain, how
could he explain an infinite God to a finite people? How would they believe
him? So God gave him laws written on tablets to show he had been in the
presence of God. Physical evidence that could not be denied. And He further
went on to explain when Mary was pregnant, it was a true miracle of the Holy
Spirit. But how would they ever know it was the Holy spirit, or that she was
pregnant? So God gave her His son Jesus, to prove to a world awaiting their
savior that this was Him. That Jesus is the one. Again physical evidence of a
time spent in the spirit, in case no one would believe her experience. NO words
could take the place of one glimpse of Jesus. And the scripture God had given
me months before, of how Mary “pondered these things in her heart,” became real
to me. He had given me this scar, this ugly scar to show the miracle He had
performed in my heart. And today this ugly scar to me is beautiful, and
sometimes I just gaze at it and cry-because I know the miracle God performed,
and the miracles He still performs today. I have physical evidence of a divine
visit, of a divine touch of God...a scar that tells a story no tattoo ever
could. Like Moses and Mary, I have been touched by God. And have physical
evidence to prove scripturally that God writes His laws of love on your heart,
and not on tablets of stone. He is that personal. OH, and the law-it’s love.
Whose name is Jesus.
You may not have the physical proof I do, but we walk by faith, not by
sight. I am able to do both, with a testimony none other has. That at first I
only wanted share once, then get on with my life. But God has allowed me to
share it over and over, and seen lives touched. Different than a tattoo, which
is about the person wearing it, my scars are all about Jesus. We always knew
that, and I wear them today, as a reminder of in the darkest hours of my life,
Jesus never left me. He was there holding my heart in His hands, and left a
scar to prove it. Because of it, some believe by seeing, blessed are those who
have not seen and believe. If God has touched your heart, share it today.
Encourage someone in their trials. Knowing that whatever you are going through
is just a testimony in progress. And I bear the scars to prove it. He is that
real. The size of my scar in no way compares to the size of His love. Today
that hospital bed is empty, just like His tomb is-we are both alive! Now do you
believe? What are you pondering in your heart?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com