Yesterday, I shared with a group of my local church congregation that I still have issues with being disgusted with my body. The empty skin folds that remain after losing 150 pounds are mostly concealed by my clothing, but I know they are there. I wear them like the chains of Marley’s ghost, permanent reminders of the harms I have done in my past and that I am merely one bite from relapsing into indulging my junk-food addiction. One of my precious friends directed me to a song, which I am happy to share here. It was exactly what I needed.

That’s What Scars are For, by Mandisa