Things in common

A few weekends ago some of my very best girlfriends and I all piled into a vehicle and headed into Vancouver for the sole purpose of getting our hair cut.

I met Lindsey, hair stylist extraordinaire, at least 5 or 6 years ago now and she has been cutting my hair ever since.  Actually, that’s not true.  Every now and then when I was really in need of a cut and couldn’t find the time to make it into the city I would pop in somewhere else.  But I was never happy.  I would always be so mad at myself for spending so much money somewhere else only to come out wishing I had just made the time to go see Lindsey and vowing never to do that again.  It happened every. single time.

I talk endlessly about Lindsey and her master styling skills.  She is the only one who can tell me point blank that it’s time for a change because, “I’m getting older.”  She also humours me and asks every time, “What are we doing today?”  To which I reply, “You’re the artist!”  And she truly is.

I have brought many a friend to Lindsey over the years and most of them keep going back to her.  It’s why there were a pile of us in a vehicle on a saturday morning for the mecca to Lindsey.

After a fabulous day I turned to my sis-in-law and said, “A good haircut is like grace.  You just don’t get it, until you get it.”  I always thought, before Lindsey,  that other people gave me fine haircuts.  I liked how they looked when I came out.  I could never quite style them the same as they could in the salon but they seemed to know what they were doing.  And then Lindsey.  She made me see that there is more to a good haircut than just chop chop chopping away.

So it was in my life with grace.  I thought I got that Jesus loved me.  I had sung about it since I was but a tot in church.  But until I was actually made aware of my sin and confronted on it by none other than Jesus himself, I didn’t get how much of a sinner I was and how much I needed grace.  And now that I know it, there is simply no turning back.  No other quick fix will do.  I know I must trek to the master stylist in my life.  The one who makes me who HE wants me to be.  Noone else can replace Him.  Nothing else can satisfy.  I may forget that from time to time and look to someone/thing else but, just like with my haircuts, I come away frustrated and vowing to never do it again.

Haircuts and grace, who knew they had so much in common.


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