Anyone else wake up super early, drink their pre-jym mix (a.k.a fast juice) and watch bible videos to get pumped up for their work out? I know...who doesn't do that?!? Which on a completely un-related note, if you don't know me, but you likely do, you know I am a weirdo in some super awesome ways. Normally I pop in the head phones and listen to music with lyrics close to "...You are kicking your own butt and you liiiiike it!!!" etc. but today I guess I needed a bit more. So my morning pump up took me in a different direction this a.m.
A month or so ago I wrote about my adventures in running and specifically the Ragnar race. I'm still learning a lot from that experience and wanted to share a bit more. I have also been preparing for a talk I have been asked to give at a perinatal conference about the life of Maya, so I have been doing some reflecting.
Remember this little ditty?...
Well it was super hard to wash my sharpee tat but not in the way you would think. I actually had to re-fill it a few times during the race because I sweat it nearly off and smeared it all over my arm repeatedly. But as I stood in the shower delighted to lose a couple days of hard-earned stank, I held my loofah hesitantly over my Mighty like Maya and thought...well how clean do I really need to be? I didn't want to wash her name off of my arm, not because it looked good...it did...I just didn't want it to go away.
I do not permanently tattoo my body, but I wished I had something on my skin to remember her. Maya was born naturally and so I do not have a scar from her birth, but oh... how I wiiiiiiish I did, one that I could run my fingers over and think about her exquisite life and impact on our family, one that was big enough to make others wonder and dare to ask “Maaan what haaaaappened there?!”
What if that’s how it worked? I think most of us have earned a scar at some point in our lives but what if every time you really loved someone or fought a battle for someone you walked away with a physical scar, a mark, not just on our souls (like it does) but something you could see and touch and love. I think we would all look pretty different and super die-hard awesome. Perhaps, scars would have a different meaning, and in a world where everyone is scarred up from relationships, from what happens when you love someone...the question wouldn’t be what happened, it would be who?.
Perhaps then as I am checking out at the store with my three boys exploding out of the cart running around the grocery aisles when I am asked by strangers "So are you going to try for a girl?" I could point at my giant scar and in an epicly awesome die-hard voice say "THIIIIIIIS was for my daughter Maya."
The boys in my life are amazing. As frequently as I appear dragged about by my "energetic" progeny...and by appear, I should probably say literally... they have been a salve for grief. They know her name and they say it often in prayers, in small talk with strangers..."I have a sister named Maya, she died" (I actually really love those), and just random times at home. One time seemingly out of nowhere Henry (the threenager) said "I miss Maya."
When it comes to the "Who?" you don't want to forget, you don't want them to forget.
So back to the shower and me pondering the shape and size of my scar...a thought came to me. I remembered the Savior, and although often depicted hanging on a cross, I picture him in white, standing in his resurrected and perfect body.
This time however....I remembered His scars. I have heard the missionaries talk about how He chose to keep His scars but I had always pictured Thomas, examining the scars as proof.
Suddenly I saw the Savior looking down at his hands and touching the scars, and thinking of me.
Perhaps that is how it really is with Jesus Christ, not what happened to Him, but for whom. Maybe he looks at his scars and thinks...thiiiiiiis was for... Gillian.
You may be thinking..."that was a lot more churchiness than usual"... it's ok, it's good for us.
So now...I face the day with faith for the fight and although I do not have a scar, I carry her with me.
Much love, and more next time.