Scars of life
Some years ago, on a hot summer day in South Florida, a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house.
In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went.
He flew into the water, not realizing thatas he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore.
His father, working in the yard, saw the two as they got closer and closer together.
In utter fear, he ran toward the water, yelling to his son as loudly as he could.
Hearing his voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a u-turn to swim to his father. It was too late. Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him.
From the dock, the father grabbed his little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs.
Then began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The gator was much stronger than the father, but the father was much too passionate to let go.
A farmer happened to drive by, heard his screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.
Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal… and, on his arms, were deepscratches where his father’s fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort to hanog on to the son he loved.
The newspaper reporter who interviewed the boy after his trauma asked if he would show him his scars.
The boy lifted his pant legs. And then with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, ‘but look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms,too. I have them because my daddy wouldn’t let go.’
You and I can identify with that little boy. We have scars too. No, not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds are because God and others who were with you refused to let go.
Never judge another person’s scars, because you don’t know how they got them.
