Last week I mustered up the strength to go out and get my hair done. We had a big weekend coming up with the kids between their Regional Finals and their Band Debut. We were supposed to be out of town the entire weekend. Now, with my health as it is, I have been avoiding crowds and avoiding all stress and activity. Not just because I am unable to do very much as I am quite tired and have no strength, yet also because after this last acquired virus which put me and my family into a tail spin I decided getting sick with anything further just wasn’t something I needed nor wanted. This weekend however, was going to be unavoidable.
On the Monday before the event I began asking questions about the Band Debut and ended up in charge of the Silent Auction and Raffle. You may be asking yourself how I managed to do that. Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m sure the word “volunteer” came in to play at some point, yet I’m not exactly sure what words came out of my mouth that gave anyone the impression I was the “go to” girl for the job. Not because I’m not capable of pointing out I could do it, I just don’t remember exactly what I said. A memory issue I blame on my friends who also dwell in this body. Well, I am organized enough in auctions as I have done enough of them, so it came together nicely and I wasn’t really stressed during the week leading up to the event. That is, until I looked in the mirror and realized that I looked like death warmed over. So, the hair appointment was made in hopes of making me look human again.
As I plopped into the chair awaiting the hairdresser to velcro the smock around my neck, I looked in the mirror and wondered if there was enough color to change the skunk look I had going on and if just a trim was going to be enough. The hairdresser then asked the dreaded question of “So… how much are we going to cut off today”? I have been growing out my hair for the last few years and the only cutting I’ve had done has been through a trim. I could see the glean in her eye and the hope she had that I just may adopt a “Go ahead and cut it all off” attitude. As I looked in the mirror at what I looked like, I asked her to just color it and to please get me a few books to ponder her question.
After looking through about 4 books with the hairdresser I asked her if she had many clients in their mid 40’s who had hair as long as mine. She informed me that I was the only one.
I don’t usually cave in to pressure, yet this time I guess I was feeling a bit vulnerable and ended up allowing her to measure different lengths of cut. I thought 6 inches was too much and she thought 4 was too little, so we decided on cutting 5 inches off. I noticed as she cut that she had that cheshire cat grin on her face. I asked her if she was happy to be cutting it and she admitted she’d waiting a year for my approval. As I looked in the mirror at her work I acknowledged she was doing a great job and then I looked at the floor. When I looked back up I asked her if any of her clients my age had ever sobbed in her chair over the loss of their locks. She laughed and told me I would be the first and to go ahead. Hmmmm…..
Let me just say, I did ponder it. In the end I did not and was able to keep my composure. I did however, begin thanking the Lord. Thanking Him that He did NOT give me my strength in this life through my hair like he had Samson. I kept thinking about the strength He has given me to get through much adversity. So as the 5 inches of hair growth hit the floor, I thanked God first and then I thanked the hairdresser. She did a great job, I walked out looking human and I was able to NOT embarrass my children at their weekend events. Once again, the Lord granted grace to stay awake when I was most exhausted and He offered kindness through others who brought me chairs to sit in. He also gave my husband patience as he drove back and forth from the hotel and the Regional Finals trying to get us a room so I could sleep and rest before the “Big Evening”. After 1 week of looking in the mirror at the new hairdo, I still miss the length, yet I look like there is a glimpse of life and that alone makes all the drama worth while.
Where does your strength come from?
Mine comes from the Lord! He gives me strength when my flesh is weak, and encourages me when there is despair. In Him I find peace, hope and love. Not just any peace, not just any hope and not just any love. In Him there is glorifying peace, eternal hope and agape Love.
7 The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts, and I am helped; my heart exults, and with my song I give thanks to him.
29 He gives power to the faint,
and to him who has no might he increases strength.