She knows my natural curly hair.
We have an honest relationship.
She'll tell me "no" when I take her a picture of impossibility out of a magazine.
And I'll tell her when she needs to fix what she did.
She knows when she's given me a cut I don't like because after a few days I'll call her back to see when she can fit me in her tight schedule.
But overall she has gotten it right the first time.
There have been only a few hair cuts over the years that I've absolutely hated.
But never enough to go find someone else to put up with my head of hair.
We've been through a lot together over the years.
Three salon moves.
My wedding day.
Our daughters' graduations.
Births of my grandgirls.
We have cried together.
Like ten years ago when her 15 year old son went to sleep and never woke up.
She gets me compliments on my hair.
Like this sweet one Lisa Whittle wrote on her blog last summer after we met at She Speaks...
I told her she had great hair. And I meant it. (She does.)
So after all that history, how do I tell her that I hate the hair cut that she gave me on Saturday?
Because I know that even though I was in her chair and
even though she knows my hair and
even though the customer is always right,
I also know that I didn't have her full attention on Saturday.
Instead, she had mine as she told me about her wedding in May.
And how only 3 weeks as a new bride she found out she has cancer.
Our tears and my hair fell to the floor as she told me she'll be starting 3 rounds of chemo soon.
And how her bottle blond hair will soon be falling out.
She looked up at the ceiling and bit her lip as she said It's just hair.
The cheerleader in me wanted to show my support by telling her to go ahead and just shave all my hair off, but the vain girl in me wouldn't even suggest it.
So now I have a choice.
Call her up and tell her that my teenage son Aaron said, "Mom, no offense, but you have kind of a tomboy haircut."
I can let it be and pray for her as I promised her I would do.
What I thought was going to be my day to get beautified actually turned out to be an hour of listening, crying and silently begging God to give me the words to say to her.
As I sat in her chair listening to her fears come out through her trembling lips I knew that I just needed to listen.
I carry a pocket Bible in my purse so when I went to get my wallet and write her a check,
I grabbed that first and read her Jeremiah 29:11-13.
As I inserted her name and personalized the verses she started to cry again and thanked me as we tightly hugged each other.
And I thanked Him for the words He gave me to say to her.
And as I left her salon looking like a tomboy with a bad hair cut and tiny pieces of my own hair all over my shirt from us hugging, I never felt as pretty as I did that moment.
When someone is faced with the possibility of losing her life, the importance of hair that gets compliments really becomes meaningless.
It's just hair is what she said about the side effect she knows is coming her way from the chemo.
And It's just hair is what I told my son when he gave me his sweet opinion of my new do.
Let's take a look around us and see who needs our prayers.
When I look beyond the boundaries of my personal space, it's amazing the needs of others that I see and how my problems become really small.
So before we complain or whine about the petty things, like a bad haircut, let's pray.
Pray for those who are facing real issues like Randy & Shalana
and heartaches like this young Momma who lost her little boy 8 years ago on August 26th.
For me anyway,