on Scars

Last Saturday, a girl came up to the desk where I was working. She looked about 14, a little dowdy in that haven't-found-my-way-yet thing that girls her age have. "I'm working on a project," she said, a little nervous. "Can you tell me where the pregnancy books are?"

I walked her over to the section and showed her some of the newer ones, and tugged out a copy of What to Expect When You're Expecting because it seemed easiest to digest for a 14-year-old girl. "Good luck with your project!" I said, gave her an encouraging smile, and then went back to my desk.

Two hours later, she came back to the desk. She took a deep breath. And she said, "OK. If you thought you might be pregnant. How much do pregnancy tests cost? And when would you take the test?"

One of those projects.

So I explained pregnancy tests to her. And I told her to wait until she was at least a week late. "So if you were already, like, two weeks late, you'd just take it now? Like, today?" she asked in a quiet voice and I looked her right in the eye, hoping my gaze would be true and she would know that this complete random librarian had nothing but compassion for her. "Yes. You go to Target today, and get the store brand test, and take it in the morning. And then you tell someone who can help you, OK?"

**********************

Haley texted me today:

A boy in our school named Jeremy killed himself this morning.

And even though I've never met this boy in my life, I wanted to weep. For such sadness in the world. For a young person whose despair couldn't be overcome. For his parents—What they must be feeling is completely unimaginable to me.

**********************

There are so many wounding surfaces in the world. Some literal, some metaphorical. The metaphorical wounds take longest to heal, I believe. The combination of these two young people's experiences bumping against my life has reminded me of some of my own old scars. Of how sharp the world is and how sometimes you feel you are wandering alone in a landscape of shards, and sometimes a friendly face is the one softness you need.

Of how I hope I can be that softness whenever life presents me with the opportunity to do so.

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"Scars"
       ~ William Stafford

The tell how it was, and how time
came along, and how it happened
again and again. They tell
the slant life takes when it turns
and slashes your face as a friend.

Any wound is real. In church
a woman lets the sun find
her cheek and we see the lesson:
there are years in that book; there are sorrows
a choir can’t reach when they sing.

Rows of children lift their faces of promise,
places where the scars will be.

Comments

[Jenna]

Oh wow... Heavy stuff. The last line of that poem was like a punch to my stomach for some reason.

[Vickie]

Very thought-provoking post. Thank you. And thanks for being compassionate and helpful to that young girl.

[Becky K]

My heart goes out to that girl and to the boy's family. Life is just so hard sometimes, isn't it? Wow. I am glad you were there to be kind to that girl. Being a librarian brings unexpected interactions for good! And a very beautiful poem - I could see that sunlight on her cheek so clearly.

[Maureen]

wow, that is a lot for one day. Do you think the two are related?

[Margot/NZ]

I don't know how you do it, Amy, but your posts so often hit the spot for me and events in my own life.
Thank you so much and most especially for this line in your post: "Oh how I hope I can be that softness whenever life presents me with the opportunity to do so."
Me too.

[Julie]

Sigh. Last spring, two former students of mine, took their lives a week apart. I will carry it always as a scar. Your post reminds me that every person we encounter is bearing bleeding wounds and shiny scars of various sizes and shapes, and that it is my daily responsibility to not inflict any more.

[Fluent Brittish]

I ache for that young girl. She obviously has no one to talk to about it. I'm glad she found you. I'm sure there were a lot of things you wanted to tell her but couldn't. I hope she finds someone to rely on.