I have hair problems. Because of this malady, I constantly covet others’ beautiful locks—especially my daughters. Both of my girls have long, thick, curly hair. And guess what? This didn’t come from me (I always thought I was supposed to have hair like that, but that God kind of dropped a few stiches when he was knitting me together in my mother’s womb). Their gorgeous hair comes from Brent.
Now, it would be wrong to say that I married Brent for his hair, but when I met him--his thick, wavy curls reaching to the collar of his shirt—I was in love…with his hair. Later, I fell in love with him—his whole self. And I’m glad I did…and not just because our kids have really nice hair, but because he’s a really great guy—everyone says so.
Now, several years and 4 curly headed children later, his hair is a little thinner, but I still appreciate his contribution to the gene pool—even if he is kind of gene hog—in a good way. I meant that in a good way.
I may never ride a horse with my long curly hair blowing in the wind ( at least in this world), but someday my wonderfully-stitched, bountiful-headed children might…and I will be watching and smiling—my hair living vicariously through theirs.
Won’t that be grand!
And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.