The Tale of Warts

“Lately I’ve been staring in the mirror
Very slowly picking me apart.”

I wanted to share something very beautifully written which for me opens my heart to the idea that love and compassion for ourselves is a good thing. For most of my life I’ve acted pretty meanly to myself in the belief that this was ok and otherwise I might get above myself. Now I would like to treat myself differently and I’m starting to desire to honour myself, even in my damaged state. I just love how the writing flows and reveals some great truths – God’s truth and love is incorruptible.

Eating Words

When I was a little girl, I don’t know maybe nine, ten years old, I had warts. They grew all over my knees and elbows, and there was one little one on my thumb, squeezed in for space next to my nail like it was prime real-estate.

I did not like my warts. They were unsightly, other people would notice them, and when they got torn or scraped, they would bleed and bleed.

My parents were both doctors and as such, had a very relaxed attitude towards the healing abilities of their five children. “Don’t worry about it, it’ll go away on its own” was the phrase I remember my mum saying most when I would come to her complaining with a range of health issues. It was no different when it came to warts. I was told that lots of kids get them (it was certainly true in my…

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