My mother has five children the first three are
brown haired, brown eyed girls then surprise a blond, curly haired blue eyed
boy and blond, curly haired, blue eyed girl. Brothers and sisters tease and one
of my older sisters teased...a lot, especially my little sister. She knew which
buttons to push to make her squeal. One attribute she would tease about was
little sister's blond hair; surely she was adopted or left on the door step, she
didn't look anything like the other girls in the family. This taunting would
cause a flood of tears and little sister would run to the comforting arms of
Mommy. "Oh no,” Mommy would reassure, “you’re one of mine. I have the scar
to prove it!" Next would follow the story of little sister's miracle
birth, the emergency C-section rife with drama. Snuggled beside Mommy all was
well again and little sister's fears were eased.
The world can be a harsh place that tries to
pull me down. If I ever doubt my worth or feel utterly alone I picture
myself next to the Lord as he shows me the nail marks and tells me,
"I will not forget thee...I have graven thee upon the palms of my
hands"1. I touch the scars as he tells me the story of his
atonement. The atonement he performed for everyone and for only one, me. Next
to him all is well again and "I am encircled about eternally in the arms
of his love."2
