Tip of My Iceberg

I knew they’d have to do it eventually. I didn’t want them to.

Cal, at four, had a head full of fun curls. He’d gotten trims in his brief life, but no one had been tempted to rid him of his curly locks.

It did need to happen. He struggled with seeing because of the hair in his eyes. He’d mindlessly swipe up with his hand to momentarily give him clarity of sight. If there was enough dirt on his hands, his hair would stay off his face.

That was another issue.

When asked if he wanted to get his hair cut, his answer was always no. Whether it was sitting in the barber’s chair draped with a smock or the sound of scissors snipping, these weren’t his favorite times.

The time came for the big-boy haircut. What Cal had wasn’t sustainable. He was becoming increasingly annoyed with moving hair out of his eyes.

I didn’t recognize the boy after the big event.

It was a rite of passage. Cal couldn’t keep the cherubic curls forever.

Change can be difficult. Challenging and intolerable. I know how comfortable I become with the status quo, and when something happens to mess with my comfort and convenience, I’m not always gracious.

Change is necessary. I can agree with those things I know need to be altered.

We’re talking about making changes to the program we run on a yearly basis. New ways of presenting information, different ways of communicating content.

We’ve been doing things a particular way for quite some time. People have fallen into places of muscle memory by doing the same things over and over. These are good things, but the question now arises if we’re doing it the best way possible.

Life is an ever-growing learning curve. With technology changing by the moment, our desires for the current iteration of a phone or computer or video game change as well.

This pushes me to hold onto that which is unchanging–that friend I can always count on for honest feedback, rereading Tolkien’s “The Hobbit” and “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy for the ninth time to mentally relocate to Middle Earth for a quiet space of imagination, relying on my favorite chicken curry meatballs for guests because it always turns out well.

It’s easy for me to feel adrift at times because everything moves and changes so quickly. I need an anchor that reminds me of what reality I’m tethered to.

God is my anchor, the One I can count on no matter what my circumstances may be. Not a crutch nor a placebo, but the power within me to impact my decisions for the better.

“God is not a human who lies or a mortal who changes His mind. When He says something, He will do it; when He makes a promise, He will fulfill it.” Numbers 23:19

Some things, like Cal’s crazy curls, will change. Hair that’s too long will cause him to sweat in the Florida heat. Technology will continue to advance and make what I own eventually unusable.

My anchor? Knowing God personally and trusting Him to be who He says He is.

Longer lasting than the best of haircuts.