Marked

Things get marked in this world. I never would choose to be marked like two of my granddaughters and my daughter. They have tattoos. The one being done in the picture is a shared design on Bekah and Laura. It is there last name in the international phonetic alphabet. Most of us have scars of one type or another. I have numerous scars form accidents like fish hooks and golf club and coffee can each with their own story . I also have a few from surgeries. Some people have significant scars form burns or severe accidents that create a lifelong issue for their appearance. I touch one of my scars every day. After forty five years of marriage I have a deep depression on the third finger of my left hand. I don't know if anyone else would notice the mark, but it is there and I notice. My wedding ring was my thinking touch stone. Marsha would know when God was working overtime because I would be turning my wedding ring. I still touch that spot when I pray or if I'm in deep thought. I don't know how I came to associate that ring with deep thinking, but it always seemed funny to me that something associated with Marsha stimulated my thought because Marsha always said she never thinks like me. Most of all though I always like the point in baptism when I make the sign of the cross on the baby's forehead and say you are sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ's own forever. Some marks really matter.