Last weekend, four of my younger sisters came out for a visit and we spent a day touring New York City. We sang Broadway songs the entire drive up to NYC, and seeing a show on Broadway was an absolute must on our to-do list in NYC! We unanimously chose Phantom of the Opera. It was magical! Despite having almost every song memorized and seeing this performed before, this particular showing was just magical—the cast did a brilliant job of transporting the audience. During one poignant scene, the Phantom is pleading with Christine Daaé to love him. She is repulsed by his hideous face, yet pities him because of the harshness of his life (his own mother refused to touch him because of his looks and he spent most of his childhood in a cage). She sings, “Pitiful creature of darkness … what kind of life have you known … ”
I glanced down to look at my sister Kat’s arm, which has a tattoo of this phrase across her forearm.
Because of the abuses she suffered during her childhood and teen years, my sister would cut herself with a razor blade for relief from the internal pain she was carrying—too much pain for such a young girl to carry. When she grew older, she had this tattoo placed over the worst of the scars to hide them from scrutiny—the tattoos “Pitiful creature of darkness … what kind of life have you known …” is in reference to her own broken and painful past.
As I glanced at our fingers intertwined together as we sat enjoying the Phantom of the Opera, my heart was filled with sorrow for the pain and difficult years that we have both traversed. It has taken YEARS for us to come together to enjoy a simple sisters’ weekend to NYC—years of individual healing, years of individual therapy, years of trying to reach out only to receive rejection in return. But those years were SO worth that one moment of knowing that, despite hardship, we still have love for each other.
The following day, Kat joined me in attending Church. All six feet tall of her walked into our chapel, shaking with fear that her tattooed beautiful self would be rejected and ignored because no one there knew what lay behind those scars and tattoos. I was so proud of her courage. I was so humbled that she loved me enough to face her fears, to let me know that she respected my beliefs and was willing to join us in our worship.
Sadly, she was right to worry. There was some rejection and there were even some judgmental looks—people will be fallible humans, even in church. However, there were several who came over to greet her with genuine love and a willingness to get to know her better. I was so grateful for those kind people.
During the church service I again looked down at our fingers intertwined together and noticed that her arm outwardly shows the scars of our turbulent childhood and my own arm is smooth … but there is truly no difference between us. Her tattoos and scars are simply an outward manifestation of the pain of her journey … my own scars are within and less easily discerned.
Each of us is scarred and damaged from this journey of life. It is not easy. Each of us faces incredible trials and adversity that would humble those around us to know. That woman in line in front of you in the grocery store—taking too long counting out her change? This outing to the store is her only freedom from the constant physical labor of caring for two severely handicapped children. Be patient with her. Be loving. You just don’t know her story, her scars.
The Savior commanded us to love one another. How well are you doing with that? I know I am still struggling to remember to suspend my own critical thoughts and to simply think and act with love.
But when I have been able to act more like the Savior during this year of trying to live as the Good Samaritan, I have gained such an appreciation for the people around me. I am so humbled to know my sister and to see how she has clawed and fought her way to a better self. Life knocked her down HARD and she is rebuilding and creating a life for herself from the ashes of her childhood heartbreak. Her grit and determination to move herself to a better place are inspirational to me and help me reach down deeper within myself when facing my own struggles.
We need to share with each other our own personal scars—it’s in seeing the scars that we see the strength. The scars that life has given us show what we have overcome with the Savior’s help and strength.
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My arms may not be scarred, but my soul was broken and damaged. It is ONLY through the strength of the Savior’s sacrifice for me, His Atonement and Grace, that I have been able to heal from my own life’s journey. It is through His Grace that I have peace, that I have hope that whatever comes my way is for my best, and will help to shape me into His image. I am so grateful to my Savior for His example, His enduring love for me, and His infinite patience with me as I move forward along life’s path.
Let us look upon each other with compassion and mercy—some of our scars from journeying along the Jericho Road of life may be obvious and glaring. Sometimes someone’s scars may be behavioral and may offend us … let us be greater than the offense given and let us return offense with love. We can, through the Savior’s help, truly love those around us.
Growing up all over the world gave Emlee Taylor an opportunity to see the incredible differences the Lord created in humanity; and even better, the passions we all share as members of the human race: love for family, faith, & a desire to make a difference.
Emlee lives life with passion—focusing her time now on raising four children and teaching them to recognize truth and to live true to that truth, regardless of others’ expectations. Emlee is passionately in love with her bestest friend and husband of more than 20 years.
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