I dabbed a new perfume on my wrist and wanted to share its scent with my daughter, Audrey. I placed my wrist beneath her nose to smell. "Mom, what happened!" She startled me a bit.  I thought, What is she talking about?

I have a large scar on my right wrist. It is as wide as my wrist and extends from my palm's base and continues into my forearm.

It is another example of God's grace in my life. See, God has been pursuing me for a long time, loving me and gently guiding my path--waiting to get my full attention.

It happened when I was in 7th grade, cooking dessert from a Bolivian cookbook for a church project.  It must have been a Wednesday night.  Something from Bolivia is all that I can recall.

 I remember that dough and hot oil were involved.  In an instant, I was off of my feet and thrown against the back door several feet from the stove.  I remember hot oil and breaking glass.  And while I was dazed and confused, I remember that my mother was present immediately.  In the next moments, she had me under cold running water.  I remember being under that cold water way longer than I wanted to be, but I also knew I had a problem.  Blisters were forming on my forehead, around my eyes, cheeks, lips, and on my right wrist.

I needed God in a big way.

My life has been infused with God since my birth. My parents and my grandparents prayed for me.  My parents dedicated me to Christ as an infant.   At the age of four, I was already reading, so my parents shelled out the money for private school tuition so I could advance, sending me to a Christian academy.

I was eager to learn. I took the public high school bus and changed buses at the high school to arrive safely at my school, Ross Corners Christian Academy. The commute was about an hour or so.

My family attended a non-denominational, protestant church called Assembly of God. There, I was a part of the Missionettes program and reached its highest level.  I was an Honor Star. I wore a large gown, and the church recognized me for my accomplishment. I have recited and memorized bible verses that were infused and woven into my subconscious.

Following the accident and immediately grateful that the oil had missed my eyeballs, I was concerned about the long-term cosmetic outcome.  I stayed home from school for some time.  My sister brought her friends over, and they would gasp upon seeing me.

Once I returned to school, there were too many questions for a junior high girl to answer.  So, I put on blinders and pushed forward.  I played basketball, and it became apparent that trying to work out with the wounds on my face was more complicated than it had to be. 

I am not sure when the scars faded, but eventually, they did, except for the long one on my wrist.

I told myself then that it would forever serve as a reminder of God's grace in my life. It is a tremendous story.  To look at my face, you would never know.  Yet, this is the first that my children have heard any of this.

God is looking for us and our attention.  Here I am, Lord. Take my hand, Lord. I will follow you.

I am sure that you have scars, too.  They may not be physical.  If you look at them closely enough, you can see God.  If you cannot, ask God to reveal himself to you.