I’m dreaming of cutting my long hair off. Maybe because it’s been long for a few years now. Maybe because a few of my friends have cute little pixies. Maybe because it’s almost 100 degrees every. single. day. here.
My loyal friend reminded me of when I chopped my hair in 2009 and that I forced her to make a pact that she would never again let me cut my hair that short even if I fought her on it.
It’s happened. I told her I want to chop my hair. She reminded me of our pact and insisted that I not do it, but I’m still itching at the moment when I can get a good chop! You see, the key to short hair is upkeep. I didn’t do upkeep last time I had it - just let it grow - which is always a mistake!
So this is a #tbt to when I blogged about never letting myself cut my hair short again. I’m probably going to ignore my 2009 self.
[originally written in July 2012 but saved as a draft until now]
We set out from the apartment around 9 PM Monday night to catch our train to Jaipur at 10:30. As we walked to Platform 4, the smells wafted through my senses in waves of various odors, mostly unfamiliar; however, as we made our way to our car and waited to board, I noticed the family friendly latrines located along the wall behind me whose scent overtook me like a rush of your grandmother’s rose perfume.
I shared a compartment of 6 beds with 5 from our group. As we waited, we played Never Have I Ever - working to find things other people have done to make them have to put down one little finger. Boasting in words said or left unsaid, places been or imagined, dreams realized or forgotten.
Used a squatty.
Been to Australia.
Kissed a boy.
Soon it was time for us to board our train. Yet, as I turned to go through the door and down the car to our compartment, I struggled to fit through the doorway. Never had I ever struggled through a doorframe. Thanks to my cousin for the hiking backpack with attached metal framing!
Everyone got settled in their little bed after we had some cozy time of trying to get all our bags to fit in between the beds and the floor. Travis showed off his upper body strength with his creative ways of mounting into his top bunk, and Kelsey tried to compete. Rebekah and I slept in the middle bunks, and Heath and Mary Emily slept on the bottom bunks. Poor Heath was sick and actually had to spend some quality time with the squatty at one point in the night.
While staying at the Lemon Tree the previous two weeks, my roommates encouraged me to sing them a song before bed each night, so Mary Emily insisted we continue the tradition even on the train. After singing White Horse by Tay Swift, Travis, Rebekah, and I sang hymns for an hour. Remembering the Solid Rock upon which we stand, the depths of the Father’s love which He has lavished upon us, the Mighty Fortress that is our God, and His steadfast faithfulness. It really is the best way to go to sleep.
I woke up around 4 AM then rolled over and fell back asleep till 7AM at which time I popped up, wide awake and ready for the day. Rebekah woke up shortly thereafter and we made our own adventure to the squatty in which we blessed the train tracks of Rajasthan. Around 8:30, we rolled into Jaipur where men with red turbans lined along the train platform.
The biblical goal of a woman’s life is not to find the ultimate expression of the self (neither “body” nor “character”). The biblical goal in life is to express the all-satisfying greatness and trustworthiness of God. Expressing God, not self, is what a godly woman wants to do. Excessive preoccupation with figure and hair and complexion is a sign that self, not God, has moved to the center. With God at the center—like the “sun,” satisfying a woman’s longings for beauty and greatness and truth and love—all the “planets” of food and dress and exercise and cosmetics and posture and countenance will stay in their proper orbit.
If this happens, the diaries of the next generation will probably go beyond looks and character, and speak of the greatness of God and the triumphs of his grace. And they will more often be written from Calcutta than from the comfortable cabins of rural America.