Dear A***,

Dear A***,

I see you quite often behind the counter at Starbucks. 

You occasionally remember my name and always seem to have a smile.

I try to smile back…and hope you don’t see me noticing the scars.

As you ring up my Grande Ginger Ale Fizzio I try to count without staring.

Both arms.  At least 50 on each arm. 

 Starting just below your elbow to just above your wrist.

I can tell by how you avoid your wrist that its not about suicide.

That would be easy enough.

Its not about ending your life is it?…its about living it.

It’s not about avoiding?…it’s about releasing.

It’s about moving the pain from your heart to your arm.

 I also notice you aren’t cutting high.

You are cutting below your elbow. 

They are healed now but people will notice them there wont they. 

It is a cry for help.

Are you cutting your thighs too? Your toes?

Eating disorder too?  Probably.

That’s what its about isn’t it?  Control.

Controlling and expressing secret pain that’s hidden in your heart.

 Maybe your parents told you to shut up and stop crying.

Perhaps you were fractured by someone close to you and felt you had to keep that secret.  Your heart was breaking and your arm took the pain.

 A***, you aren’t alone.  You are loved.  Someone cares.  Someone wants to listen.

The scars look healed now. 

I don’t dare ask, but I hope the addiction has healed too.

I pray you have someone safe in your life that will let you cry.

Lord, show A*** your scars.   Let her know how she can be healed by Your scars (Isaiah 53:5).  Lord, as she is looking for a safe place to release the pain in her heart, let her know how You (1 Peter 2:24) can take her pain.  Lord, bless A***.  Bless her, keep her, may Your face shine upon her, and bring her peace.