I have a scar on my left hand from a cat scratch. There's one on my right arm where I ran my hand through a plate glass window when I was ten years old. A scar crosses my ankle where I had surgery once, and one on my finger from getting it pinched in a door. Scars heal, scab over, fade with time, yet we never seem to forget how we got them.
There are scars of a different kind, too. Scars that are on the inside. We all have them. We know how they got there. Some of these scars never seem to heal, never scab over and fade. They tend to remind us how fragile we can be.
I look forward to the time when the Savior will show me His scars, the nail prints in His hands, the piercing in His side, and I will know then that all my scars are healed, his wounds will heal my wounds, and I will be made whole again.