Warning! This post may not align with your personal beliefs regarding tattoos. This post is not meant to sway your beliefs. It is simply a story, a memory I am choosing to share.

I was 36 when I finally got a tattoo. I had been adamant that I would never get one but after chemo something changed.

I felt fearless, a rush that stemmed from my dance with the devil (cancer). I was exhausted from my perceived well planned life. I was ready to step out of my comfort zone.

On my beat cancer bucket list was a tattoo, so I convinced my sister to go with me and get one too while at the beach on Spring Break that year, very cliche I know. A few gulps of cheap champagne, and I found myself ready.

I couldn’t have asked for a better tattoo artist as he sensed my fears. He guided me every step of the way. Afterward, when my sister and I finished- we both felt a rush, a rush similar to feeling like we had done something forbidden. Silly, I know, but it’s true.

So now I have a tattoo. It’s four stars to represent my family, but it also represents a time when I was battling and a time when my sister did something with me that would be a memory only we share.

So, regardless of how you feel about ink, remember that for those who have tattoos, it’s usually for a reason, a memory, and/ or reminder.

I look at mine and think I really did finish my treatments. I have so many blessings that those stars represent.

Count the stars, if you are able. God commands. As countless as the stars, he assures Abram, so shall your descendants be. (Gen 15:5)