LIFE RIGHT NOW â—½ YOU
All the Colors of My Life
by Jennifer Stephens
It can be straight or curly. Thick or thin. Long or short. Or maybe there’s none at all. And most people (at least occasionally) have a love/hate relationship with it. What is it? Hair. From the moment we’re born everyone’s got an opinion about our hair – asking, “Is that a totally bald baby?” or “Is that a full head of hair?” It’s often the first thing people notice about us. Do we have long scraggly rock star hair or do we wear a sensibly tame ‘do fit for a news anchor? Our hair tells a story.
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Some of us grow our hair long and some keep it cropped short. Or maybe we’re the type to let it grow for miles then suddenly sprout a wild hair and decide to chop it all off! That used to be me. I’d walk into the salon with a heavy waist-length mane and leave with an above the shoulders bob. And tears. It always ended in tears. Until I learned to ignore the whim to cut it all off and settle for a slight trim instead! Regardless of the length, my hair was brown. Just brown. Boring (in my eyes) brown. Until one afternoon when I came home with a box of tubes, chemicals, and plastic gloves…and became Clairol #30 Dark Auburn Brown. Ooh la la!
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Since then, I’ve traded the DIY box for a professional hairstylist and swiveled between my natural color and chunky blondish highlights, full blonde (I know, crazy!), ridiculously dark brunette, sporty blue streaks, Grinchy green (that was a color mixing mistake), and festive pink & purple pieces! Looking back, each era of my life can be
described by the color of my hair at the time. Auburn me was young and adventurous. Blonde me was kinda lost (Obviously. It wasn’t a good look.). The blue streaks came with the excitement of sitting in the stands watching the KC Royals win the World Series. And pink and purple me is the me who decided to be unrelentingly myself. The me who no longer cared about judgy sneers because I’d figured out that other people’s negative opinions aren’t important (And being a 50-something with bright colored hair comes with others’ unsolicited assessments. Oh, well.). Coloring my hair for my own entertainment has always been so much fun!
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Until it became necessary.
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I noticed a new color was emerging. And I wasn’t thrilled. G-R-A-Y. Not a lot. Just sprinkled in here and there (Well, and that one patch in the back that my hairdresser lovingly pointed out. But she promised that’ll be our little secret.). At first, I plucked and pulled each piece of unwanted bling, not caring how many more might show up to mourn the missing strands. While I have friends and family that look amazing with their silver tresses, I’m not ready to embrace the gray! Not yet. So, every four to six weeks I visit the land of foil with my hairdresser.
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Long ago, silver strands were met with respect. Seen as a sign of wisdom. Proverbs 16:31 says, “Gray hair is a crown of splendor; it is attained in the way of righteousness.” Gray hair brings with it a sense of maturity. Mistakes made and lessons learned. A life well lived. But in today’s world, these shiny strands are often met with misconceptions. Suddenly old and irrelevant. Unworthy. Invisible. That’s NOT how God sees it. Gray hair serves as a reminder of His faithfulness. In Isaiah 46:4 we read, “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.”
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One day I will forgo my monthly salon visits and welcome the salt and pepper seasoning, but for now I’m in my pink and purple era. I’m going to boldly cover that gray because I know that in all the colors of my life - brown, auburn, blonde, blue, pink, purple, green, and, yes, even gray - it’s God who carries me. It’s God who sustains me. It is God who will rescue me.