At the Children’s Cancer Clinic, patients have the option to collect beads for events in their journey. Beads of Courage is a national program in children’s hospitals. Each specific bead color or design represents a particular procedure, hospital stay, or treatment that the child must endure with courage. The red, yellow, blue, white, and, my favorite, glow-in-the-dark (for a radiation treatment, of course), to name a few, are added to a string. The concept was designed by an oncology nurse to reward a child for courage in the face of cancer. Every step taken in fighting the battle is a brave one that should be remembered. When strung together in a chain, a powerful story will begin to emerge.
Every journey needs milestones, rocks by the highway, to mark moments or places of influence. For Maggie, we have already found several: irises, first-time blooms on a memorial Magnolia tree, and Disney medals. She has little interest in collecting beads from the clinic at this point. But I want them. I will cherish the privilege of displaying the textured timeline and sharing her story of courage. So, we’ll collect the beads while we record the events in our minds.
It strikes me that other symbols will mark this journey. What life won’t be etched in some way by scars? Maggie collected her first one as a toddler in the nursery at Main Street Baptist. She was running when the toe of her clunky little toddler shoe caught on the carpet and sent her flying into a sharp cabinet edge. A plastic surgeon sutured the gash on her forehead, a special service offered because she was a girl, with the promise that more work could be performed (for a fee, of course) at a later date to totally hide the scar. Maggie has never wanted to hide it. She likes the character it imparts and the way it became part of her story.
Scars do tell stories, don’t they? We all have them, outward or internal, in many forms for various reasons. They may serve as shiny-skinned, glass-smooth tokens of a lesson learned, a disaster averted, or the shielding Hand of Providence. They bind us together in shared experiences. Ah, I thought I was the only one that stupid. I flipped over my handlebars, too! My surgery lasted four hours; how ‘ bout yours? They remind us that healing takes place with a little time and patience. They become a part of who we are. “And when He said this, He showed them both His hands and His side. The disciples then rejoiced when they saw the Lord.” (John 20:20) And they represent a debt paid. “But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities.” (Isaiah 53:3)
Maggie may lose count as she compiles her scars. Like points on a dot-to-dot picture, their connection will draw a portrait of grace, healing, and hope to illustrate the same story told through her beads. Her scars will point to His Scars that offer ultimate healing. “He Himself bore our sins in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness; for by His wounds you were healed.” (1 Peter 2:24)
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