Outcast

Some of the memories of this past year have begun to fade. Like the initial shock of finding out there was something wrong with our son and the anxiety of not knowing what it would be like to have our new baby undergo surgery. Those sharp emotions have dulled slightly with time. But there is one that I can't seem to shake. There is a sadness. And sometimes it just gets me. Like last week when we were driving in the car and Miranda Lambert's All Kinds of Kinds came on. It's one of Sophia and my favorites, we belt it out and I do my best to imitate Lambert's twang. But there was something about this listening that cut to my heart. The opening verse describes an unlikely couple, two circus performers who fall in love and are wed amidst a rag-tag group of unique individuals:

Ilsa was an acrobat who went and fell in love with that Horatio the human cannonball. A weddin' 'neath the big top tent with barkers clowns and elephants Sideshow family oddities and all. The dog-faced boy howled out with joy As the tattooed lady was crying. Ever since the beginning to keep the world spinning It takes all kinds of kinds

What got me in this picture of outcasts was the "dog faced boy." All I could think of was the large brown and hairy mole that once covered 80% of Jack's back. It could easily have been on his face instead of his back, many giant melanocytic nevi are. But beyond that thought was the idea that if Jack had been born in any other time, in any other place he would be an outcast. Possibly rejected at birth and if not, at least ridiculed or ostracized or worse demonized for the mark on his back.

It was this picture of Jack as an outcast that brought me to tears. But quickly following those tears was an overwhelming sense of joy. In the middle of that scene of outcasts is a wedding; is love. Love knows know boundaries, it knows no outsiders or insiders. Love casts out fear. Fear of rejection, fear of ridicule, fear of being ostracized and demonized. In the middle of the acrobat and the human cannonball and the tattooed lady and the dog-faced boy and the Jack-Attack with the mark on his back and all the other oddities and sideshows was LOVE.

I love an outcast. With all my heart I love him.

Dear Jack,

Sometimes when I catch a glimpse of another boy's bare back the clear and smooth skin startle me at first. It's like my eye tells my mind something is missing. Then in a split second my mind corrects itself : something isn't missing, that is the way a little boy's back is "supposed to look."

When I look at your back and see the scar, the jagged, raised skin that spans the space of you back from armpit to armpit. When I see that scar I feel proud. Proud of how incredibly tough you are, proud of your resilience. And I know that as you grow older I will continue to feel more proud as you bear that scar with courage. But sometimes I feel sad. Sad that you weren't born with unblemished skin, sad that this was necessary, sad that you endured pain and confusion without the ability to articulate it.

But when I look at your face. Oh! Your sweet face! I feel nothing but JOY! Because in your eyes I see joy. In your smile I see the excitement of a little boy eager to discover the world around him. And with a glimpse of your eyes and your smile I forget about the sadness.

There will be times Jack, when all people will see is your scar and they may ridicule you, they may reject you. There are people who will want to put you on the outside.  The people who accept you, the ones who invite you in despite your imperfections that is where you want to be. And remember that the "insiders" are outsiders too, in some way maybe you can't see it yet, but they are. Be gracious to all.

But most of all know that you are loved as you are.

When you were just a few days old I made up this song for you and I will sing it to you for as long as you'll let me:)

Little Jack, you're my guy,

You're the apple of you're mama's eye.

I love you so much. I love you so much.

You'll be brave, you'll be strong,

You'll have courage to face the world.

I love you so much. I love you so much.

Now you're small, but you'll grow,

you'll be a man before I know.

I love you so much. I love you so much.

I do love you so much.

--Mommy

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"I am after mercy, not religion. I'm here to invite outsiders, not coddle insiders."

(Matthew 9:12-13 The Message)

On Saturday afternoon, we plan to swim in the indoor pool at our race-weekend hotel. For the first time Jack will debut his scar. It's been covered up all summer out of the sun, slathered with sunscreen and protected by rash guard. But that's not a worry at an indoor pool. He doesn't know the difference yet, but for my husband and I it feels like a milestone.

Have you ever felt like an outsider or an outcast? Do you have a scar you are proud of or embarrassed by?

--Sarah