A Hairy Story

"And even the very hairs of our head are all numbered" (Matthew 10:30 NIV).

One thing that happened before each new school year was a haircut and perhaps another occurred before school pictures. I was born with fine, straight hair. There is no curl whatsoever. Not even a thought of a wave. What I have now is all fake from a perm. I realized as an adult I needed to give my poor head of hair a boost of volume using a perm for body and curl.

Mother tried to give me curls. There were home permanents that did strange things to my hair, but mostly she just settled on keeping it short in a pageboy type style with bangs (or fringe as my hairstyling friend corrects me). By the school pictures I can tell she tried rollers and pin curls sometimes. By the time I got to junior high and high school she gave up and let me do whatever I wanted which wasn't much.  Long and straight was the style in the 70s so of course that's what I did. One school picture shows a terrible problem with oil, common in teenage hair. After that one disastrous photo I seemed to do a better job of keeping it clean. Most likely mother pleaded with me to wash it again and I refused; I don't remember.

I do remember another hair disaster in my early teen years, though. I was in seventh grade and I had a small part in the class play. On the second night, a Saturday, I needed to wash my hair and we were out of cream rinse so daddy took me to the tiny grocery store in Clemons, IA to buy some. The only choice was Alberto VO5 Conditioning Hair Cream. I'd never used anything like it before and I clearly didn't read the directions or listen to anyone's advice. I took a palm full of the cream and put it on my freshly washed hair on Saturday afternoon. Then I proceeded to wash and wash and wash my hair to try and get it out. Time ran out and I ended up with plastered down hair that I finally had to pull back into a ponytail because it was so greasy. I remember feeling humiliated on stage and as my friends asked what I did to my hair. Ah, the value of life experiences.

The worst hair story I have was before my sister's wedding. Everyone got to go to a salon and have their hair done for the wedding. I was a teenager and I didn't want my hair done. I carried on terribly about it but ended up having to go. Only to come home and cry about my hair looking terrible and proceeding to comb it out and maybe wash it so it looked quite terrible for the wedding. I'm still ashamed about how I acted.

God knows every hair on our heads. Even the gray ones that have a mind of their own and the thousands that fall out every day leaving thinning on the scalp. God cares, not about the style, the color, or the cut. He knows each hair because it is yours and a part of who you are - His creation.