Scars

 

Once upon a time, a heart was slashed to pieces. It was an open, bloody mess – like something Freddy Kruger and Edward Scissorhands might have played catch with – by the time it decided enough was enough and put a stop to its destruction.

 
As it healed, the pieces fit gingerly back into place, a little banged up but still operational. It ached and burned as the pieces reintegrated. And after it was put back together, it was a little larger than it had been – a little more compassionate, a little more tender, a little more wise.

 
This big, beat up heart never stopped loving, but a piece of it went dark and quiet. This piece was cold even though it was surrounded by the warmth of all the other working pieces. It was still.

 
The scars started to fade, and the heart continued to grow and heal. It became quite strong on its own and was finding contentment in its solitude.

 
The quiet piece stayed dark and cold.

 
Eventually, the heart was happy and smiling and feeling quite complete even with the dark piece still sitting smack in the middle of all the fully healed bits. The heart knew it had done big, hard, healing work and that the dark piece didn’t take away from that. In fact, the dark piece was a reminder of all the goodness that had come out of so much wounding.

 
And that’s when it happened.

 
The heart was minding its own business (mostly) when something bright and beautiful caught its attention. Could it be? Another heart – equally as big, battered, and healed from its own battles – right there in front of it, shining a light so bright that the heart had no choice. It summoned all its courage.

 
And ever so gently the darkened piece began to glow.

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