Do You Pick Your Scabs?

As a sister wedged between two older brothers and one younger one,
I didn’t have a Princess type upbringing.
It was rough and tumble, as I kept up  with the boys and their adventures.

I learned I couldn’t fly off the front porch like Superman, and still have the scar on my chin to prove it.

I learned to throw rocks like a boy, and my sister still has a scar on her chin to prove it.

I learned to ride a bike down the steep 5th Avenue in Helena, Montana,
and still have the scuffed up knees to prove it.

My knees might have healed better, if I hadn’t always picked at my scabs.
I couldn’t help it.

The scabs started to dry around the edges and my little fingers,
with dirt under each fingernail, would have to just start
picking
poking
scratching
peeling
and eventually
pick the whole scab off and start the bleeding process all over.

I know, disgusting, right?
My dear mother not only tried to keep me from danger,
she tried to keep me from causing further harm to myself.
I know she told me not to pick my scabs over and over,
I just couldn’t stop.

Doesn’t that scab just look perfect for picking?

As an adult, I still pick scabs.
I know, gross, right?
Only now they’re on my heart and not my knees.

Just as I am beginning to heal and trust the Lord for a trial He’s allowed,
I begin picking at the edges with lack of faith and questions.

Why did you allow this?

I previously blogged it’s OK to ask the Lord WHY,
but after He’s answed, we believe and don’t ask again.

This isn’t fair!

That’s right, we deserve so much worse.

Why do things keep happening to me?

I can’t handle this Lord!

This Lord promises and provides His presence, His power and His peace.

The real question is~
why do we hinder healing by reliving the agonies of previous victories?

Sometimes, it’s a little overwhelming to know that apart from a miracle,
my cancer most likely will not be cured.
It isn’t always easy to accept that an Innocent Man is in jail.
There are even times when I weep over wrongs that happened years ago.

I’m a big girl.
I should know better.

Those wounds were cleansed by the blood of Jesus,
He carried me safely through the flames,
and He spoke peace to my heart.

There is no reason to relive the agony,
I should only be praising Him and thanking Him
for His presence during the trials.

I gotta’ grow up and stop picking at those scabs.