Posted on by kellyyarborough · 1 Comment

The Bad Haircut

As I stood in front of the mirror I didn’t like what I saw. My hairdresser got scissor happy and cut way too much. I know it’s just hair and it will grow back but until then I’ll have to deal with the fact that is it way too short and I hate it.

Why do I hate it so much?

I hate it because it reminds me of another time in my life when my hair was cut way too short. It reminds me of pain and hurt associated with that haircut. It reminds me that my heart was broken. It reminds me that words hurt far more than I care to admit. It also reminds me that there have been times in my life where my words have hurt people too.

It all happened when I was 13, I had seen cute short cuts and decided I should cut my long hair and go short. I had a picture with me and a picture in mind of how it should look. Only I had a barber, not a hairstylist, do it. It was a chopped up mess and by the time he finished I looked more like a boy than a girl. It was hideous. I was clearly disappointed but I couldn’t do a thing about it. The good news was it happened on a Saturday so I had the weekend before I had to face the world.

Monday came hard and fast. I had quite a few sneers and stares but overall it wasn’t bad until the afternoon bus ride. That’s when it got ugly. The laughing, jeering, pointing fingers and talking loudly about my “short boy cut.” It was heartbreaking. The most hurtful part was hearing those who called themselves my friends chime in. If I could’ve gotten off that bus and run away, I certainly would have. It took every ounce of courage I could muster to remain on the bus until my bus stop. And honestly it did’t exactly stop then because I could still hear snide comments as the bus doors closed.

Fortunately I was the only one on my street who got off the bus that day and I cried most of the way home. stopping by the creek to dry up my tears before arriving at home. Then briskly walking straight to my room to conceal my tear-stained face. I didn’t want anyone to know how hurt I had been. It was much easier for me stuff my emotions than let them out. I kept up this charade for a few weeks. Fortunately my hair grew back rather quickly and I was able to form and style it again. The harassment stopped but my heart still hurt.

Now every time my hair gets too short, I am reminded of this marked incident. It reminds me that words hurt. It reminds me that hearts are tender. It reminds me that people can be cruel and hurtful. More importantly it reminds me that I have hurt people with my words. I have hurt people because I was hurt. And you know what? That makes my heart hurt even more because there have been times that I have been cruel, rude and insenstive to others. I have mocked and made fun of others when I should have kept my mouth shut.

The truth is my hair will grow back but I can’t take back the words I’ve said to be cruel and hurtful to others. Nor can I go back and erase what was said to me. What I can do is move forward. Moving forward means I forgive those who hurt me and ask to be forgiven by those I’ve hurt.

Posted on by kellyyarborough

Happy Birthday, Daddy

Fragments. Slivers. Bits, pieces and memories of a seven-year-old child. That’s all I have and yet what a profound and powerful impact they have on me. Your smile. Your strong arms. Your eyes. Your firm but gentle ways. You’ve been gone much longer than you lived but your legacy continues to live. Sometimes I wonder how can this be? How can a man’s life of 36 years continue to have an impact on others 46 years later and especially mine?

I believe that your simple “yes” to God made all the difference. I have no clue at what age you put your faith in Jesus as Lord, what I do know, is that you lived according to His Word.

Did you question the goodness of God when you received the diagnosis of Melanoma at age 30? Did you wonder what in the world God was doing because you had an almost-two-year-old with another child on the way? Did you ask why me? Did you ever get angry?

Maybe there were times when you questioned God but I believe most of the time you just completely believed in the sovereignty of Almighty God and you knew for certain that He had all things held together. You knew that your healing would ultimately come from God. He would perform an earthly miracle or He would heal you in Heaven.

Do you know why I believe this? Because I think held fast to Psalm 23. You knew for certain that you were safe in the arms of your Shepherd. You knew that He would take you to green pastures and lead you beside the still waters, even amid pain and agony. You knew he would lead you in paths of righteousness by allowing you opportunity after opportunity to share your faith, for His name’s sake. You knew and realized that death was only a shadow and shadows cannot hurt you. It was just passing through to eternal life with Jesus. He was there all the while protecting you and comforting you. You knew the table He prepared was bountiful and plentiful even though the enemy tried to steal your joy; you continued to be joyful despite the pain. Your cup continued to overflow. And you could believe this because of the goodness and mercy following you all the days of your life. God blessed you with an amazing family, great parents, siblings, and friends. God’s mercy allowed you six additional years from the onset of the diagnosis allowing you to witness the birth of your third child, the only son. And for 46 years you have dwelt in the house of the Lord and you will continue to be there forever.

Year after year it never ceases to amaze me at how much your life continues to impact mine. Thank you for being faithful to the Lord. Thank you for saying “yes” to His call. Thank you for holding fast to His Word.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!