Tip of My Iceberg

I hate getting my hair cut.  There are those people who find their “cut”, the one that looks outstanding on them, whether they’ve just gotten styled or rolled out of bed.  The ones that have folks asking “Who cut your hair?  I’d love them to do mine.”

I’ve never been one of those people.  I’ve had haircuts that bring out the other kind of comments.  (I think it’s my Charlie Brown face that causes this phenomenon.)  I got it cut really short once, and my husband, kind to the end, sweetly said, “You don’t need to keep it short for me.”  That’s love.

Then there was that time in fifth grade–you always remember fifth grade–where this guy I had a crush on commented, “Hey, Dayle, who ran over your head with a lawnmower?”

Is it a wonder I have issues with hair stylists?

I hadn’t had my hair cut in quite awhile, so it was long, shaggy and styleless. More like a curtain to hide behind than a style that was flattering.  It was with great fear and trepidation that I entered the salon.  There was fear because I didn’t know what I wanted.  (Whatever makes me look gorgeous!)  Then there was the fear that the stylist would disappoint me.  (I knew what I didn’t want–to look hideous.)

I left with mixed emotions.  Looking into the mirror, I was disappointed that the “gorgeous” hadn’t happened.  And I was–let’s say, challenged–by what I saw.  I wasn’t disgusted.  But it was different.  It would take some getting used to.

It makes me think of how I perceive myself in general.  I believe it really depends which mirror I’m focusing on.  If I’m looking at the mirror of the world–how I think others see me–I always feel like I come up short.  (I’m short anyway–this isn’t helpful.)  What I see in this mirror is someone who isn’t fashionable enough, who doesn’t always fit in, who doesn’t know enough, who fears rejection, who’s unsure of what she has to offer.

And that is the lie that I too often buy into.  The one that says I need to meet a worldly standard to be of value, to be acceptable.  I don’t know anyone who doesn’t want to hide from that reflection, because no one can ever measure up to it.

God’s mirror is different.  The reflection I see there isn’t really me at all–it’s Him in me.  There may be the nicks and crannies from the molding process, the holes of imperfection. But it is His light that shines through those weak areas, His promise that casts a glow over the reflection.

“Thank You for making me wonderfully complex!  Your workmanship is marvelous–how well I know it.”  Psalm 139:14

Marvelous.  That’s how God sees me.  And He wants me to understand who I am through His eyes.

No matter what my hair looks like.