It's never too late to begin the healing process from childhood sexual abuse. It's never too early to fall in love with the person God created you to be. Long ago someone made a choice to take away your innocence, but today that someone can't touch your freedom to heal.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Hair-raising Expectations and Lamentations

Child Q was in tears, a result of anger more than sadness. Her mother didn't have time to straighten her hair, and thus, she had to face, yet, another day--curly!

The desire to have her hair straightened began early in the afternoon a day earlier. The evening was clear, no scheduled activities. Her mother, she thought, available. So she did what any curly haired budding young woman would do, she dreamed of straight hair. Not just any straight hair, her straight hair. Long. Dark. Flowing. She didn't share her dream with anyone. Why share a good dream anyhow? The risk of someone waking her up would be too great. So her dream continued long into the afternoon and into the early evening until it morphed into...The Great Hair Expectation!

What is it about hair that can change a perfectly good morning into a dreadfully dark melodrama? If it's curly we want it straight. If it's straight we want it curly. It's too thick. It's too thin. Too long. Too short. And my latest woe--too gray!

Yet, on this particular morning, child Q had a dilemma of the curly kind, and I couldn't seem to find a satisfying response to her lamentations.

Finally I said, "I'm sorry there wasn't time to straighten your hair last night."

Her upper lip stiffened as tears continued to well-up in her eyes.

"How long had you been hoping that there would be time to straighten your hair?" I asked.

"Since yesterday afternoon." She snipped.

"Oh, I see. Ya know, my mother always told me (yep, now that I've got the gray hair, I'm sounding a lot like my mother) not to have expectations...if you don't have expectations, you won't get hurt."

"I think I'm figuring that out," she said, arms crossed. I don't like life. It's not fair."

An understanding smile softened my face. "Yeah, I know." I said.

Then child Q trudged toward the door to catch her bus, curly hair pulled tight into a pony tail, as I realized....she's growing up.

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