I went for a trim, maybe a chop. When I walked in, my hair dresser was out of the room. One of her clients, with foil in her hair was reading a magazine. I sat down. She glanced at me and smiled.
"I just don't know what to do. Keep my bob or go short with a pixie," I said.
The woman knew just what I was talking about. She goes through the same angst periodically.
When Roula, the stylist, walked in, she said, "You need to go for the pixie."
"Do you think so?"
Roula was certain.
So off with my hair.
While she cut gobs of hair off my head, we talked about parenting. Roula is only in her 20s, yet she has so much wisdom and discernment. Her baby is only one-year-old, but she talked about what she valued in her own childhood being raised by a wise mother. I felt like I owed her for more than just a haircut when she finished. There were two other clients in the room, all listening to us talk about raising kids. Soon they joined in. Nothing unites a bunch of women more than wondering how any of us can manage to raise a child to adulthood successfully.
God has been speaking to me quite a bit lately about this subject. He speaks to me all the time, but sometimes He shouts. And even when He shouts, it is with so much love. I long to be all that God wants me to be. So often I fail. But I am doing the best I can.
Roula finished my new Pixie cut, and whisked out her mirror to show me the back. My hair felt so light, so carefree. I don't know why, but my spirits felt light as well.
"I love it," I said. I walked out of there with a load of hair off my head, and a load off my heart.
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