Today, I opened the old cans of paint to touch up some spots. Most of them were just like the one below. Not bad by itself, but there is a multiplication factor that occurs making the house look dirtier than it actually is. I’d waited too long and dinginess had set in.
So with paint well stirred and brush in hand, I set out to conquer and create a fresh appearance. I also wondered about the origins of some of these marks. The ones near doors or where pictures fell were obvious, but the one behind a chair or the one in the middle of an otherwise unscathed wall that just happened to be knee high – how did they originate? It doesn’t really matter. They need to be fixed. But still, I wondered. And I know that these marks, these scars will reappear. Paint is a temporary fix, but maybe I should be more proactive and not wait until so many places are visible next time.
Thinking about the scars on my walls got me thinking about life and the scars I know most of us carry. Where did my scars originate and how do I cover them? I do believe that most of us have some control in the paint we choose and what we decide to paint over – prayer, faith, friendships, smiling at adversity, staying busy, taking care of our physical and emotional selves – all part of the paint job. If I’m consistent in the application, the nicks and marks are rarely noticeable – even to me.