My curly hair has become sort of a metaphor for my life. When I was young, I used to try desperately to straighten it. It was the 60s. All the cool girls had straight hair. I would iron it (this was back before flat irons..I’m talking Black and Decker iron it), roll it on emptied orange juice cans and get it somewhat straight. I’d be looking pretty cool with my smooth hair, and then would step out into the Texas humidity, and boi-oi-oing…it would curl and frizz right back up.
It was painful. Just like my life. I desperately love God and want to serve him every moment. I want to be that person that others look at and say, I want what she’s got. Sometimes, I have that together, and I start looking pretty Christ-like. Then, I step out into life…the world’s humidity, and boi-oi-oing, I look like my frazzled hair. So it goes.. and even though I know I’m forgiven, I don’t look very cool.
Somewhere around the 90s, I decided to accept my hair and let it curl for all it’s worth. And somewhere during that time, I also came to know that I’m accepted and loved with all my shortcomings. I still so want to please Him, but I know that when I don’t, he’s ready to forgive me and let me climb back into His lap, curly hair, shortcomings, and all.