Hairy Situation

Hairy Situation

I have had a few hairstyles in my life.  My hair is (mostly) naturally curly, and has become curlier with age.  It seems like hair can be a big part of who we are, in regards to confidence and style, at least according to commercials.

As a young girl, I had soft wispy curls, and my hair grew very long.  I went through the stages of bangs, and in the 80s even got a spiral perm on top of my curls.  In high school, I had an unfortunate mishap when I tried to cut my own hair, resulting in disastrous results that left it way too short in one spot.  This forced me to have a pixie cut.  I had huge glasses back then too - the kind that seemed to be popular in those days, but really were not - I never have had much fashion sense.

It was in college when I met Wayne with this short hair cut.  I am tall, and back then my pants were always about an inch too short too (before it was stylish).  Wayne would jokingly look back on this time, and comment that despite my too-short pants, that he fell in love with me.

Often, I felt like an ugly ducking in those sensitive years growing up, but he made me feel quite the opposite.  Wayne treated me in a way that one loves another's soul and heart.

In college while we were dating and then engaged, I let my hair grow out a bit, a layered fashion to above my shoulders, and kept the bangs.  My hair in our wedding picture is simple, nothing extravagant.  It was long enough to pull back into a ponytail if it was too hot, and short enough to manage any curls or waves that sprouted.  My hair has a reddish tinge to it - making others sometimes think Wayne and I were brother and sister - because of our similar complexions.  Sometimes I would add blonde highlights myself, and the summer would often add them naturally.

As we moved into our teaching jobs, I let my hair grow out a bit more past my shoulders, allowing me to clip it up, and even occasionally braid it.  Then it would start to feel too long, making my neck feel too warm, and I would have it trimmed to my shoulders, repeating this process over the years.  I kept it long when our son was born, mostly out of convenience.

In Wayne's younger school years, he had longer hair - the kind where you could comb it into different styles.  I met him with buzzed hair - a preferred style for drum corps summer playing.  He kept his hair short for our marriage - often buzzing it off in the summer and for running.  Wayne often would grow facial hair -  which was more red than the hair on his head.  He would leave a small shaved space in the middle of his upper lip for proper sealing of his lip on brass instrument mouthpieces.  Often he would surprise me when he got out of the shower with a completely clean shaven face that would turn into scratchy skin.  He would often grow the beard right back out, because it hurt my skin to kiss him. ... I miss the smell of his aftershave.

When our son was in first grade, I decided to be bold and cut it short again, but to have it done professionally this time, of course.  I was ready to commit the time to make sure it looked okay each morning.  I got a wedge, meaning the back was layered and the front was longer.  I liked it, and it kept my hair always off my shoulders.  I wore scarves with my outfits, if my neck was cold, and liked coordinating outfits in that way.  My hair was in this style when Wayne was diagnosed with cancer.

When Wayne started chemotherapy, he had been told that the type they used would make his beard fall out.  He let it grow for a while, but it got too long and it bothered him.  So, he trimmed it back to the original style, but this facial hair never fell out.  I remember in the ICU one of the nurses trimming it for him, trying to bring him the comfort of routine, despite the ventilation tube and seriousness of the situation.  I remember this one white hair that grew amongst the red in Wayne's beard.  I liked it, it was like a symbol of wisdom, of age.  I wish I could have seen his beard go completely white.

Instead, Wayne's hair on his head started to fall out in the ICU.  This happened when his liver stopped working - no longer processing protein - when his body stopped working.  This is when I realized that Wayne would not be able to come home with us.  To know this about someone is devastating, and it is a moment of time and emotion that will never be forgotten.  I would touch Wayne's head so gently, so as to not cause any more to fall out.  I saved some of these precious strands.

In the Bible when Samson's hair was cut or braided, he lost his strength.  When Wayne's fell out, his strength was leaving too.

There are so many things that I promised to do in those days in the ICU, some have happened already and some will happen as time goes on.  One was to grow my hair, because Wayne no longer could.  While my longer hair does not necessarily give me strength, it is done in honor of him.  I do get it trimmed, since one side grows faster than the other, but for now, I will not cut it short.  I will grow it in honor of what Wayne's hair can no longer do.  Perhaps it will inspire me to continue to have the strength to live each day in a way that remembers Wayne, and honors God.

And I know that Wayne, my son, and God love me for what is in my heart and soul, not the length of my hair or the strength in my body.  It is important to love God in return with all of your heart, soul, and strength.

Reflections verses:

Finally, Samson shared his secret with her. “My hair has never been cut,” he confessed, “for I was dedicated to God as a Nazirite from birth. If my head were shaved, my strength would leave me, and I would become as weak as anyone else.”  (Judges 16:17 NLT)

And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength.  (Deuteronomy 6:5 NLT)