The House

I finally got my tattoo yesterday. It hurt. Bad. The top one is the front piece that was done several years ago with some smoke added to it and the bottom one is the piece that was done yesterday. The front piece was done out of anger unresolved. I was pissed and still am that my father left me, so I got a tattoo of me going down with the flames in this house. Since I have realized that God was there, He was always there I got the second one. I didn't need anything outside of Him. I went through some fire and I survived, not because I am strong, but because God is strong in me. I got the back piece to show the house was burnt down, but I am still standing. Tattoos for me are the tracks of where I have been. A kid asked me the other day, because some of my students don't know I have tattoos because I cover them mostly, why I get them if I am not going to show them off. Because I get them to remind me of where I have been and where I hope to go. They aren't about vanity, they are about following my own footsteps to remember my mistakes, to remember the mile markers of my life. Most are symbols of pain, but some, such as Jesus on my chest are reminders that Christ lives here. I got that one when I first became a Believer to remind myself that if I ever had my shirt off with a girl, I would look down and remember who is living inside me when I am about to stumble. Some people keep journals, some paint, some photograph, some tattoo.