When I was around 13years old, I discovered that I liked these tiny beads Nigerian females wear around their waists. It usually looks beautiful; the way it hangs around that feminine part of the body.
I was a teenager and was getting to know my body so it was a welcomed idea.
I was making myself the elastic waist bead when I thought I heard God speaking to me, against wearing the bead on my waists. I needed to be sure It was Him I heard so I found myself desperately searching through the scriptures for a confirmation. And to my greatest dismay, I found it there!
I also want the women to dress modestly, with decency and propriety, adorning themselves, not with elaborate hairstyles or gold or pearls or expensive clothes,
(1Tim. 2:9 NIV)
That’s how I didn’t get a waist bead as a teenager, and since then every permanent change to my body- I’ve simply not made. The warning was clear. God didn’t want me doing stuff to his temple; my body.
Recently, as a young adult, I’ve fallen in love with the idea of tattoos(I have a flare for gangsta don’t I). I see them as reminders of important events and milestones in ones life. If I could get tattoos and had access to getting tattoos, by now I’d be somewhat like Michael Scofield, because I’d have so many. Because my life has been filled with so many lessons, and milestones.
“Maybe just a little cute permanent reminder on my wrist, that God saw me through the most difficult times of my life and no matter what i’m facing today, He’ll see me through too. Cos He’s the same God that never changes.
Or some imprint on my ankle, of a fond memory I always want to cherish.”
It would make me seem like hard core, strong girl, that I am, deep down somewhere beneath the very fair complexion and frail limbs. Plus people will always ask questions about it and I’ll get talking about myself, the way I love to!
So, well. I won’t be getting a tattoo in the nearest future. Uh, my kind don’t get tattoos, it’s unhealthy and risky, plus in Nigeria- only a type of girls have tattoos. Nigerians know what I mean.
Today, I woke up from one of my too-often-these-days-and-unnecessary morning naps and I was between dream and reality, where I mostly just stare. This time I was staring at a part of my body namely, my wrist. And there, was a faded scar.
Suddenly, memories come flooding into my mind. I remember how I got the scar. I’m surprised how much it has faded, cos it was a horrendous scar I got carelessly, and it was obviously ruining my skin on that part of my body. I remembered how I worried that it would remain, ugly and offensive.
Memories of that period of the scar filled my mind until I found myself smiling from all the beautiful and nasty things I remembered.
Then, the thought came like a lightning bolt.
Scars are like tattoos.
I wanted tattoos but I couldn’t get them simply because i’m not sure God would like it, just like I wanted waist beads but couldn’t, and I want to do a lot of things but I can’t. Because I love God.
But, I have scars. And scars are like tattoos.
I’ve found something that satisfies me as much as I think tattoos would. As weird as this seems, I thank God for showing me this today. Its His way of demonstrating He Loves me and will continue to supply all my needs.