Thursday, January 27, 2011

"A good man might be hard to find, but a good hairdresser is next to impossible"

So you'll have to excuse the lack of focus in my posts for the next week or so. With my internship not starting for another week, my life is a bit all over the place (and I have a bit more time on my hands then I know what to do with- of course I should be using said time to work on my thesis, but lets be honest, that's so not going to happen). In a week's time I promise to regale you with tales of my hospital experiences (devoid of all personally identifying information of course, thank you HIPAA), but for now you must just make due with ramblings of my current daily living.

Today began with the following phone conversation. I woke up this morning and realized that I needed to call my hairdresser Holly to make sure she had time to work me in before I move next week. Still in bed, I open my phone and realize I do not have her number saved. I look up her salon on the internet, finally find a phone number and press send (crossing my fingers that it was the correct number). I promise you, this is word for word how the conversation went:

(Phone rings a good 4-5 times)
"Hey. when can you come in?"
"When are you free?"
"In half an hour"
"Ok I'll be there"
(Hang up)

The whole conversation took, according to the handy timer on my cell phone, 8 seconds. Took me a second (in my half drowsy state) to realize that she does not in fact have ESP... but caller ID.

I should mention that I love my hairdresser. Love isn't the right word. Adore, perhaps. Only Holly would answer the phone like that, totally bereft of any social 'niceties' and get right to the point. Such a loving, caring, giving woman. It doesn't hurt that she's a genius with hair.

I've had a great number of ideas regarding where to take this discussion. Although I knew that conversation was too hilarious not to share (ok maybe not to you, but definitely to me!), I didn't quite know what point I wanted to make. A musing about the control electronics have over our life, so much so that we no longer have the need to formally address the people with whom we converse? Perhaps I could dedicate this post to beaming over the many wonderful individuals who have supported me in one way or another over the past few weeks. Or maybe I could give an in-depth analysis of my self-esteem issues and launch into a diatribe on the problems with our societal views on beauty and fashion.

But instead, I want to talk about trust.

A discussion on trust, exemplified by my regular mid-session freak out.

I have real trust issues when it comes to my hair. I've had one two five way too many bad haircuts in my day; trust me, we have the family photo albums to prove it. The frizzy hippie stage, the 'goldfinger' incident, or really my favorite- the psuedo mullet. That was a fun one, Ally and I had long hair; long, gorgeous, down-to-our-butts hair. Mom went out of town for the weekend, dad took us to a family friend to get a 'trim'; I don't quite remember all the details but I do know a friend had come into town the previous week to visit with a very short bowl cut and perhaps I had asked to emulate it. All I know is that without the maternal presence to control the situation, Ally and I very soon had the most interesting hair cuts--- but I digress. Where was I? oh yes. I have trust issues with my hair.

Enter Holly, the wonderful hairdresser at our church who informed my dad that she felt one way she could give back to God was in taking care of the pastor's family's hair. After a months of this, she convinced me to let her try highlighting mine, and she's been doing so for 2 years.

Holly is a true artist when it comes to hair, never doubt that, I get compliments left and right on my hair (when I actually bother to style it). However, at some point during every session (usually when I see the first glimpse of color after the removal of the foils), I begin wondering what in the hell I've done to myself. I curse myself for having this vain pursuit of beauty, and worry that i may be walking around bald.. or with orange hair.

And then inevitably, Holly works her magic and I end up staring into the mirror, beaming. More often than not, the finished product is different than anything I had pictured in my head, in a good way. The momentary panic subsides over the realization that I was only seeing one piece of the puzzle; there are many more steps to take along the way. Over time I've learned to stop letting those moments of doubt take over, and just trust in the established relationship I have built with the woman who has never let me down. To stay calm and just know that my hair is going to come out looking fabulous.

I bet you can guess where this is going.

I get that way with God too sometimes. Except that I'm still not so great at trusting him to give me a great finished product. I become impatient as I work through a situation, and decide to steal a glance at what is going on. And then, typically, I get distressed at the sight before me and forget that it is really a work in progress, and I am no where near the finish line. I look around and see my life in chaos, deadlines not being met, people letting me down, relationships in turmoil, and I wonder: Why? I get distracted by the mess in front of me and starting doubting that God has any real plan for making something worthwhile and meaningful out of my life. Yet, if I take a step back and re-examine many of the times in my life when I have felt that way, I realize now it was all part of the journey to something even greater than I could have imagined.

As I mentioned, I'm still not so great at the trusting God. I say I do, I try to convince myself that I do, but when the foils start coming off I panic. It's a daily struggle for me, one I'm sure I'm not alone on. As I survey a lot of the 'chaos' I've encountered over the past 6 months, I feel like my life is on the cusp of something major, and that God is in the process of unveiling something wonderful, but I'm realizing I am still a few steps away from being at that final stage.

But until then, at least my hair looks great!!!

1 comment:

  1. With metaphors like this, you could write your own sermons. Or at least a book of devotions for women.


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