35W BRIDGE COLLAPSE: LIFE CONTINUES ON

Life continues on for some of the victims, but sadly not for all. As you know there were 13 fatalities from that fateful August day. One of the survivors, of course as my readers know by now, was Mercedes Gorden. She is a friend and co-worker of one of my daughters.

Another survivor I would like to highlight is Garrett Ebling. Here is a current message from him:

It was an unsettling moment this morning when I took off my pajama T-shirt to shave. The mirror doesn't lie. I have several reminders of my time spent in the hospital - there are several scars: a long snake that winds from chest to below the navel; two marks where my feeding tube punched into my stomach and where they went in to fix my diaphragm below my right lung; and three incisions that run along the aforementioned snake. I grimaced as if I was staring at Frankenstein, that next summer the mere sight of me at the pool will have kids running away screaming. I felt like the scars had "ruined" me.

As I recover, I also have found that tasks take more time to accomplish. So when I shower I have plenty of time to think. I spent a good amount of time under the hot water thinking about those scars and what they really are. The light bulb finally lit: Scars are really nothing more than stories.

Every scar has a story. I joked to my roommate yesterday that I have more scars than Jesus. (Thankfully God has a sense of humor. I hope.) But that got me thinking about Christ and His scars. When He rose from the dead that Easter morning what did He think as He looked at His hands, His feet, His side? His scars, like mine, tell a story. (Granted my scars didn't save the world from sin.) I can't imagine Jesus thinking "Oh these stupid scars! I went through all that to look like I went through a paper shredder?" No, I think Christ looked at those scars with pride, not pity. It's His scars that tell the story of a loving God who took our burden and buried our sin for good. I think Jesus is proud of His scars.

Tomorrow morning I'll dip back into my routine. The shaving cream will come out and the T-shirt will come off. I vow not to look at my scars with frustration or contempt. Rather, I know that I, too, can use my scars to tell my story - and share my loving God who resurrected me from the dirty river two months ago today.