Wherever We Land

There was a time when I thought tattoos were a way to express myself, a permanent stamp of a moment, a memory, or even a belief. I’ve been down that road twice. But as I grow wiser, I realize there is no tattoo that I want—not anymore. In fact, I want the ones I have removed. 

It’s not that I dwell on them daily. Most of the time, I forget they’re even there—until someone brings them to my attention. Whether I’m out camping or just going about life, a passing comment or question reminds me of the choices I made in my younger years. And while I don’t live with regret, I do live with a new understanding. 

The more I mature, the more I strive to align myself with the woman God wants me to be—the Titus woman, the one who leads younger women by example. Titus 2:3-5 calls older women to be reverent, to teach what is good, and to encourage younger women to live in a way that honors God. And as I continue walking in faith, I realize that for me, tattoos no longer fit into the image I want to present—not for myself, and certainly not for those I hope to guide. 

Our bodies are a temple, as 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 reminds us, and while my past choices do not define me, they do serve as lessons. If I can help even one young woman pause and reconsider a decision that she may one day want to erase, then sharing my story has purpose. 

Tattoos may be permanent in ink, but they do not have to be permanent in identity. As I seek to become more of the woman God calls me to be, I am reminded that true beauty and self-expression come from a heart that reflects Him—not from marks on the skin.