Waiting For Scars To Heal

September 6, 1979, 5:42 AM

This is a strange morning.  For the first time this week there has been no immediate attunement.  I know that I should expect this, but when words have flowed as they have other days it is almost startling to have so little a reaction.  I finally got the visual picture of a rather long theme title, and then these words presented themselves.  I have no idea what they mean.  I await the insights of the Holy Spirit.  Come Holy Spirit, come!

(This 1st paragraph was written by Bob Russell before the Spirit takes the pen)

I wrote these words upon your mind, o son, to bring it to a consideration of a particular part of the rhythm that is health.  This is the time (those times) when scars are healing.  These may be of any of the types of wounds – physical, mental, emotional, social, or spiritual.

You look at your wrist and you see a thin reddish-purple scar.  The wound has long since healed but the scar remains.  Strange that it is one you cherish.  But understandable in that it came from the barbed wire on that fine day of fence fixing back in June.  It was good working with John Patrick, and it was the first time you practiced awareness and appreciation of some departure from health.  So, for some reason, the scar has not healed, but seems to remain as a pleasant reminder.  Sometimes scars should not heal and disappear.

As you watched the movie on divorce last night there flashed in your mind the hard, angry, frustrating conversation between you and Lenore one day long ago on the way to or from Kentucky Lake.  It was about your relationship and whether she was good for you or not.  That is a scar that is virtually healed (though it is interesting that it did flash back).  Time passed, and the living of life has decreed – she has been good for you.  And you for her.  You waited, and the scar healed.

You cannot make a scar heal.  Some do, and some don’t.  You have always liked scars… for some reason.  You look at your hand, and there is still a remnant of that scar you deliberately sought… and you can almost feel the brown, rough stucco on which you deliberately scraped your hand.

The scars of John Patrick’s battles with Lenore are not yet healed (and for her they may never be), but for you they fade as you see him happy in this house, and as you watch him with his little daughter.  He has survived to reproduce, and that little replica is a healer of scars.

You have no obvious spiritual scars.  But you think of those that Peter must have had.  To meet Me directly, to confront Me head-on, and then to turn away creates spiritual wounds.  He has scars, but they are healing now.  Yet they remind.

Now, most obviously, you have a small wound in your foot.  It pains a bit, but you shall just wait for your body to do its healing thing.  And there shall be no memory… you trust.

There is the social-spiritual scar of the relationship with the Azrins.  The wound has healed, but the scar shall not.  And, in contrast to the one on your wrist, it is ugly and unpleasant to remember.  Sometimes you wait, and scars do not heal.  And they remind you of unpleasant times of wounding.  You must write the Prices and tell them that wounds heal but scars… not always.  The scars of his departure by such a senseless way will remain.  But they can change, as Peter’s have, to remembrances of what was… rather than what might have been.

Now wasn’t this a nice variation from the more direct communications.  You’re still not sure what it means, but you shall remember it, as you do Scour.  Waiting for Scars to Heal.  Wait upon Me.  Trust Me.  Love My Presence within and about you.  Some scars heal and disappear.  Some remain, to remind of joy… or of sadness.

This is your lesson for the day.  It shall be as a scar to you.  A small purpose of Mine.

Amen

6:50 AM