My backyard is pretty shady except for one part where the sun hits the grass all day. You can tell where the shade ends because there’s a clear line across the yard in the shape of a silhouette of my house. Half of the lawn is lush and green; the other half—the part where the sun is most intense—struggles unless I irrigate. And in between is a boundary line that matches my chimney, the roofline, and other features. It’s as if my house is a stencil on the lawn whose shade colors the grass differently.
I’m not too different from my lawn—I have marks (metaphorically) where people and experiences have changed me. Some parts are lush and flourishing; in some places, the intensity has burned me. The lesson from this is that all people have these marks and that we should work to irrigate those sections that need care.