In the song Beach Ball by the Dave Matthews Band, there is this one lyric that sticks out to me:
“Give me scars to bring me grace.”
I used to think it was just a poetic line, something to hum along with. But after living with cancer and the marks it has carved into my body and spirit, this lyric hits me differently.
When I talk about grace here, I don’t mean God’s love or heavenly mercy. This isn’t about divine favor. This grace is raw, human, and earned. It comes when you’ve been knocked down, cut open, worn out, and still get back up. It’s the dignity etched into scars, the humility of being broken and yet refusing to quit.
I carry plenty of scars now. There’s the port in my chest. The bruises from endless needle sticks and IVs. The strange little marks from falling when my legs give way. Some scars I don’t even remember earning. Then there are the ones no one sees: the fatigue, the ache for the strong body I once had, the mental toll of waiting and wondering what comes next.
At first, I hated them. Every scar felt like evidence of loss, proof that I was less than I used to be. But scars shift in meaning over time. They stop shouting what was taken and start whispering what endured. They stop being just records of pain and become reminders that the wound closed, the bleeding stopped, the healing, however imperfect, happened. They are signs that I didn’t give in.
This grace is not about perfection, nor salvation. It’s perspective. It shows up when Maria steadies me as I stumble and somehow makes me feel cared for instead of pitied. It’s in my boys’ eyes when they see me fight through exhaustion without looking away. It’s the grace I find when I face my reflection, trace the scars, and finally say:
Yes, I’ve been hurt. Yes, I carry these scars. But I’m still here. Still fighting. Still f*cking here.
Maybe that’s why the lyric stays with me. Because in the end, scars do bring grace. Not the kind you pray for, but the kind you earn. The kind that marks you as fully, painfully, beautifully alive.
Scars earned or awarded are proof of your strength and His Love, respectively. You will beat this. Fight on, my friend.
Scars are a testament to the life you are living.