I have a thing for curly hair. I have always wanted it. Curly hair, is to me, the power behind cool girls. It represents carefree ease and simplicity in a way that flat ironed, highlighted, blow-dried hair just doesn't. For some reason I see freedom in those twisted tresses.
If you weren't aware of this, hair is a pretty big deal. There are vast markets based on these dead cells that grow out of tiny follicles stretched over our skulls. It's weird when you think about it, but hair matters. Ask any man who's loosing his, he'll tell you. Well, anyway, hair matters...to us.
I never thought for a minute that my hair matters to God. Chop it, twist it, color it, flatten it, pin it who cares?! Not God! I never got up in the morning and asked God, "what should we do with this pile of old skin today?" It really never entered my mind. Until it did.
Until I was pregnant, and then wasn't, and then was again, and then had a baby, and then began nursing, and then I was pregnant again, and then I was nursing and pregnant and then I had a 2nd baby and then all the hair that I had grown and lost and grown again started to pull at my scalp. Hi! I had really put my body through a lot, and it's not like I was done. I chopped my hair and started growing it out again, and when it was just at the longest it had ever been...you guessed it. Pregnant again.
Now, my hair is thick! It takes 15 minutes to blow-dry when it's short, when it's two feet down my back and fueled by super pregnancy progesterone it's impossible. Add two toddlers and a giant belly to this mess and I couldn't even stand up long enough to make it look decent in a top knot.
In a weird way God was breaking me. Not just the hair, it was everything (see crazy paragraph above). I was a baby making, milk-producing machine. Living off hormones and chocolate, unable to tie my own shoes. In all His majestic ways, God was bringing me to my knees before the throne. He asked me to give up everything I could control so that He could show His great power. Not the least of which was my hair.
Of course there is so much more to this story than my hair, but all that for another day. Today it's about the hair.
After my 3rd child arrived in all his 9lb. 6oz splendor, the bloom of my long locks began to fade and it was eventually time to relinquish my crowning glory to the cutting room floor. It may not have been awesome but at least it was a good security blanket. I chopped 9 inches off in one sitting and returned back a second time to snip off another inch or so. I was free and light and...curly.
I never really put this into a "God" category, which is ridiculous in and of itself, but this morning as I was getting ready I really felt like this curliness is a gift. Not to say that I pleased God enough that He granted my wish of curly hair. I don't believe God is in the wish granting business, but I do believe He knows me. He knows my heart and my desires. He knows my body and my chemistry. He knows everything about me and sometimes He chooses for all those things to come together to impress His love upon me. My mom has always called these "God Kisses" and I think that is really the right term for it.
James 1:17 says "Every generous act and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights; with Him there is no variation or shadow cast by turning." When trying to shrug off the feeling that my curly hair is a "God Kiss" this verse came to mind. Curly hair is so trivial, but it's generous of God to think of it. It's so meaningless, except that it is a perfect gift to a girl who's always dreamed of it. I never prayed for curly hair, or thought in anyway I would have naturally curly hair (intermittent perms do not count as actually curly hair) In some way I feel like it's God saying to me, "This is you. You're free. Enjoy it."
Mostly I think this is a "God Kiss" because He's enabled me to see it as such. Until this morning I've just scrunched up my hair and not thought a second about it, but for some reason today was the day I realized what's going on here. God is revealing Himself to me. He's reminding me He's cares about my deepest thoughts. He's telling me I'm His and that is what makes me good.
All my hair could fall out tomorrow, every stitch. I honestly would not care. In the great scheme of things my hair doesn't matter. What matters is that I serve a God who goes down deep into my heart and loves me well. Who remains good and goes to great lengths to remind me I am FREE. He knows every hair on my head, and for now, He's made them curly.
If you weren't aware of this, hair is a pretty big deal. There are vast markets based on these dead cells that grow out of tiny follicles stretched over our skulls. It's weird when you think about it, but hair matters. Ask any man who's loosing his, he'll tell you. Well, anyway, hair matters...to us.
I never thought for a minute that my hair matters to God. Chop it, twist it, color it, flatten it, pin it who cares?! Not God! I never got up in the morning and asked God, "what should we do with this pile of old skin today?" It really never entered my mind. Until it did.
Workin' my hair for all it was worth '05 (left) '08 (right)
Until I was pregnant, and then wasn't, and then was again, and then had a baby, and then began nursing, and then I was pregnant again, and then I was nursing and pregnant and then I had a 2nd baby and then all the hair that I had grown and lost and grown again started to pull at my scalp. Hi! I had really put my body through a lot, and it's not like I was done. I chopped my hair and started growing it out again, and when it was just at the longest it had ever been...you guessed it. Pregnant again.
Now, my hair is thick! It takes 15 minutes to blow-dry when it's short, when it's two feet down my back and fueled by super pregnancy progesterone it's impossible. Add two toddlers and a giant belly to this mess and I couldn't even stand up long enough to make it look decent in a top knot.
gradually giving up my need to control '10 (left photo credit Abby Thompson Flies) and '10 (right)
In a weird way God was breaking me. Not just the hair, it was everything (see crazy paragraph above). I was a baby making, milk-producing machine. Living off hormones and chocolate, unable to tie my own shoes. In all His majestic ways, God was bringing me to my knees before the throne. He asked me to give up everything I could control so that He could show His great power. Not the least of which was my hair.
Of course there is so much more to this story than my hair, but all that for another day. Today it's about the hair.
After my 3rd child arrived in all his 9lb. 6oz splendor, the bloom of my long locks began to fade and it was eventually time to relinquish my crowning glory to the cutting room floor. It may not have been awesome but at least it was a good security blanket. I chopped 9 inches off in one sitting and returned back a second time to snip off another inch or so. I was free and light and...curly.
James 1:17 says "Every generous act and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights; with Him there is no variation or shadow cast by turning." When trying to shrug off the feeling that my curly hair is a "God Kiss" this verse came to mind. Curly hair is so trivial, but it's generous of God to think of it. It's so meaningless, except that it is a perfect gift to a girl who's always dreamed of it. I never prayed for curly hair, or thought in anyway I would have naturally curly hair (intermittent perms do not count as actually curly hair) In some way I feel like it's God saying to me, "This is you. You're free. Enjoy it."
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| Little me circa 1992 |
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