HAIR

Standing in front my bathroom mirror, I look at the new me and think to myself, “I am almost put together again”.  When I dress each day and I am out marketing, no one really sees how vulnerable I am because they can’t see my hidden bandages that I still wear from wound care.  In fact truth be told, this is a better body – a flat stomach, I finally have cleavage, and Wow! - a new styling belly button! It’s all good until ,,,the hair.

 It’s the hair that gets me.  I can cover my body, but not the hair.  It’s like some took a black permanent marker and wrote across my face – HAD CANCER. It’s not even about how I look as much as why  I’m patchy bald.  Why did I have to be the 1% that doesn’t get their hair back and be left with this obvious reminder?  This is my big complaint to the Lord.  When this reconstruction process is over and when the 4 years are done of that darn Tamoxifen drug -that have packed the pounds on me – I’m DONE! This whole nightmare will be over and I will move on and forget about all of it!

I rant and rave, because now I can’t without hair. I will never be able to forget about Cancer each time I have to slip on a hat or hope it’s not too windy outside.  I want the memory erased God! I want to Forget!  Even my Onco..doctor tried with different treatments to get my hair follicles going because he knew it too and said, “It’s a reminder.”  Every minute of every day I am wondering if my wig is on crooked, or it feels like a tourniquet on my head.  I can’t let it go, it’s always there. And why?   Oh yeah,.. I had Cancer.

God gently nudged my heart the other day and met with me over my chronic frustration.

  He said, “Lynn, I WANT  to remember and I WANT you to remember too.”  I didn’t even have a chance to argue when He continued, “Your patchy hair is a marker of one of my most intimate times with you.” “I would never trade those dark days for your seemingly peaceful nights.”  “You cried out to me and I held you tightly and rocked your fears to sleep.”  “You pressed in and I loved being with you that close.” “Those were the days I visited each of your family members gave them strength and hope” They became soldiers in prayer and mighty warriors in my Kingdom.  “It was the time I imparted peace to your husband and told him he wouldn’t be alone for I was giving you both a future and a hope” “I made sure to partner with your friends to surround you with love and comfort” “I made you a better friend and them as well.“ 

Tears slid down my cheek as I rubbed my scrappy head.  I said, “You know God, I don’t want to forget either” “this hair is really beautiful isn’t it?”   I have realized that in life not everything just gets patched up and put together again.  Maybe when it’s not, it’s a sign God is moving in ways we can’t see just yet.

  His type of “moving” is invading like swirling smoke into every painful crevice of our being.
……It is  dispelling…it is deeper ….it is stronger and a love story at the highest form. 

 My eyes now still get misty, but for a different reason:

 I no longer see words written with a black marker – the person in the mirror looking at me is a woman of God defined by the Father who loves her and all those most precious to her.

 

The Hallway

Last Friday I found myself in a mammogram  hallway with about six other women.  We all had on the same dull matching medical gowns like no one had identity similar to pitiful cows with the same spots waiting for the slaughter.  One has to love the designer of those garments; the string ties don’t really do much for modesty.  I’ve found that a lot of times the ties are too short, misplaced or even missing.  Once they are tied, you find yourself hunched forward just to tuck all your body parts in. When you sit down the flaps just gape open.  Suddenly, you fill a slight breeze only to notice that you’ve just provided a peep show for an entire audience. 
Scanning the hall , I looked around for someplace in particular that I should sit. This is a practice I have picked up from all my treatment.  Either I can decide that I have to have treatment for things or I am sent!  I choose the latter!  The mammogram waiting chairs sit in front of the dressing rooms.  “Hum… where would God sit with me? “ I mused.   A chair opened up right in the middle of the room next to a 78 year old sad woman.  Being my friendly self and trying to break the nerves of silence in the room, I asked her, “So, how we doing today?”  It was  then her tyrant of despair and despondency spewed into the hallway.

“I would rather be anywhere else than here.”  She began wringing her hands together tightly and went on, “this place worries me.” “In fact, I worry all the time! “ “I worry for myself, because what would become of me if I’m be left behind. “I worry for my husband, if I die,” “Then there are my children – if something happens to them then my world has ended and I haven’t even got to the grandchildren yet.”  “I worry, worry, and worry.”

The slightest bit of hope that was in the hallway was sucked out like someone just used a Shopvac and directly pointed the nozzle upon each and every soul in the corridor.  My spirit started screaming at her words of defeat and at the ungodly power of hopelessness being released into the air and the other women.  I could not contain myself!    I was thinking this is funny, this woman and the others waiting for their mammogram, had no idea I was waiting for something worse – a needle biopsy and aspiration.  I didn’t say a word about any of what I had been through. 

Suddenly I felt her fear, I turned my head to look at this lady square in the eye so I could speak to her spirit.  All ears in the room were perked up and I said softly, “there are some things in life, we just can’t control.  She nodded.  “But here’s the good part - there is Someone much bigger than you or I who IS in control.  Where my hope ends, His begins.  I am not without hope from the start of my days to the end of my days.  I also don’t worry because I take that Someone with me Everywhere I go.  (I could tell that she was Jewish), so I went on,   “even in the Torah before a temple was built, God dwelt in a tent.  Why?  Because His people dwelt in tents.  He lived life right where they were at.  In fact, He is here right now”

Can I say the hallway got much brighter?  She slowly put her hand over mine and said, “I suppose that’s true dear.”  With those last words, my name was called for my treatment.  As I left, I turned back and saw all the women sitting a little taller with a grins on their faces like they were waiting for the best prize ever!   I smiled  as well knowing I just preached to myself cause God and I were going into the next room and everything would be alright.   It was -because of I AM.