Once, packing up belongings of nine years of home. Removing frames and decor hanging on walls.
Walls that contained years of love, babies, trials...life.
Bare walls. Marks of love lived in that home. Numerous holes revealed places where hearts had hung. Poorly covered-up permanent marker told the story of little girl creativity and curiosity. Small dents showed doors swung open in excitement.
Marks of life lived, of love shared.
35 years. Life lived. Love shared. Marks tell the story. Scars from ugly yesterdays. Beauty marks of grace received.
33 years. LIFE. LOVE. Marks tell more than a story: the Gospel. Scars, the result of my penalty. Scars, the beauty of grace.