And isn’t long hair a woman’s pride and joy? For it has been given to her as a covering.——– 1 Co. 11:15
It happened just hours before my daughter and I were scheduled to leave for our women’s retreat. It was a last minute decision intended to touch up my color and trim my neckline. I sat frozen in Raul’s chair, unable to protest while he clipped and scissored my hair well beyond trimming and directly into perfectly ugly horribleness. In fact, when I sent a picture to my husband his reply text read: Do you have a hat? He then caught himself and backpedaled nicely, “It’s gonna be real cold in Leavenworth.” Uh huh…nice save, honey!
My husband’s apparently distracted stylist must have forgotten that he was cutting my hair that fateful Friday morning. Let’s just say that Raul has caused me to look like my sexual orientation has come into question. Now my hair is manly-short and badly foiled; the random blond streaks on my inch and a half long locks resemble feathers. Buk buk buk buk brrr-awk!
I had no choice but to go to the retreat even though I wanted desperately to head to Seattle for a little wig shopping. Sidebar: Angela Howard, our beautiful retreat speaker, who just happens to have amazing hair, asked to take a picture with me and guess who ended up on her Facebook page? (Get over yourself, Sherrie!)
Here’s the thing—I wish I were less self-conscious and preoccupied with my less-ness and not-enough-ness. I wish I could look in the mirror right now and not well up with tears. Oh sure–I could justify my emotion and remind you, dear reader, that we women have this hair-glory thing we pull out of scripture. But if you don’t mind a little noise while I slap some sense into myself, I’ll let you in on my thought process.
I want God like I’ve never wanted Him before. I want Him spilling out of me when I’m bumped into. I want His plans over my own and His timing over my timetable. I want to live reflecting that His truth always supersedes my circumstances, my emotions, my surroundings. I want Him to be glorified in what comes out of my mouth, glorified in what passes through my eyes, glorified in what simmers in my heart and glorified in the direction my feet tread. I don’t want my appearance, my apparel or my appetite(s) to distract me from Him.
He is my glory.
We woman are forever checking ourselves against our peers and counterparts. Even though scripture tells us that comparing ourselves with ourselves is so unwise, we still do it. So much of our peace and joy are curtailed by how we feel we measure up to some ridiculous standard we strive for. It doesn’t matter what it is: our hair, our homes, our marriages, our kids, our cars, our neighborhoods, or our pay scale—we compare.
To compare is to despair.
He’s the beautiful thing about us, the essential ingredient in the valuation and purpose of our lives.
So. Yeah. I have super ugly hair right now. But when I go to our neighborhood gathering tonight it’s my intention to reflect the beauty of Jesus and not my own. I’m not going to cower shyly in the corner and hope no one notices my discomfort—because in reality, that’s really just a great big look-at-me attention getter. (Didn’t someone say that shyness is really just a form of pride?)
But you, O LORD, are a shield around me; You are my glory, the one who holds my head high. —Ps.3:3