How my doula dream was born

 "I can't do it. I'm not ready to be a mother."

Her eyes were wide and full of fear. Her hand gripped mine like a vice, not letting go.

"It's ok, honey, let's take a deep breath together. I know you're scared, but your body knows what's happening, the nurse is right here. I know you're strong, I know you're capable, and I know you have what it takes to be a mother."

A calm washed over me as I watched her eyes, too scared to cry, search for peace. She had no idea what was happening. This pregnancy was unexpected and unplanned. 

Her body pressed on, fully in control. We breathed together. I spoke soothing words into her ear and encouraged her to work with her body, not fight against it. Her breath came fast, but now measured. Her eyes were full of fear but slowly a focus took over. Her hand never stopped squeezing.

It was in these moments that I felt a sense of purpose, joy and excitement. Of course birth is full of intensity, challenge, pressure, pain and it was hard to see this girl try to grapple with it all in that moment. But we were together and I understood to a whole new measure what a calm and kind presence can do.

"I did it. I can't believe I did it."

"He's beautiful. He's mine." 

She wept as her little baby boy was placed against her skin. She looked up to me, the tears finally set free, and mouthed "thank you."

I left hours later and typed "how do I become a doula?" into google. 

As I look back on that birth I often wish I knew more or had more tools and supports to assist my friend as she experienced her first birth. But I wasn't a doula. I didn't have any training, I was only standing by her side to be there when she had no one else. But now I know more, and I never want to stop learning.

I am deeply grateful that she allowed me to be part of her birth story, that she invited me in to that sacred part of her life. I treasure that moment. It shaped me and inspired me.

Now as I look at my completed certification my heart and mind are full of ideas on what to do next and how to take steps to support more women as they bring life into the world - especially those that have no one else. 

5am Emotion and Southwest Phone Stands

 5am. I'm asked to step aside and "consolidate my belongings". I was clutching a blanket. My bags were full. I knelt on the ground under the watchful eye of the gate attendant. Tears. Not a big deal. But still tears.

Somehow I managed to cram my soft blanket in my overstuffed suitcase. But the plane was boarded. I walked alone onto the plane. Feeling exposed.

30 mins later and I'm distracting myself with a movie and hot cofee. Emotions are leveling out with a snack and caffeine. Holding my phone in one hand and juggling my coffee and snakc in another.

A hand taps me on the shoulder. A small Southwest branded plastic cloud is placed in my lap. The flight attendant points to my phone, smiles. I realize it's a little phone stand.

Maybe it would mean nothing to the average person. But to me it was everything. Tears. Not a big deal. But still tears. 

I propped my phone, sipped my coffee, ate my snack. Feeling seen.

Don't ever underestimate noticing. Pay attention. The smallest gesture can literally change the trajectory of someone's day.

The Ugly

Jesus, come quickly. Save this world again. Restore life. Restore memory.

In a text exchange with my brother... "They [parents] love when you come over." "Yeah, dad does, but mom doesn't know me."

I sobbed. I wasn't expecting that. It hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. I texted a friend, I needed to express. I needed to just dump the grief and not be told about the joy on the other side.

I know the silver lining is there. I search for, and find, beauty every single day. But some days I need to take the time and acknowledge that ugly is there, too. And it’s healing to sit in the ugly and be upset about it. Because this isn’t how it was supposed to be.

We don't stay there. Of course not. This life, despite the ugly, is too full of beauty, too full of little moments of joy and redemption. 

The beauty is waiting. 

And in a few moments I'm ready to find it again.

To My Nieces...

Dance with your daddy. Make cookies with your mommy.

Laugh. Giggle. Fight with your brothers and share secrets with your sisters.

When I take a look at your lives full of love and innocence my heart is overwhelmed with the reality you get to experience on a daily basis. It's beautiful.

You probably won't understand for a long time. I didn't. And I'm still not sure I do.

But life isn't like this for every little girl. In the same moment that you're sleeping in a warm bed, safe from all harm, there is a little girl that's alone, hurting and wondering what she did to feel so much pain.

When you get a glimpse of another girls life, please don't judge or assume. Leave space for what you don't know or understand. But don't double-guess your own experience. Don't despair of your "perfect" life. Live it fully. Love fully.

Embrace these days, this love. Open your heart so wide that love fills every crack and then spills right out onto everyone you interact with.

Don't forget that everyone has a story. Every woman you interact with was once a little girl. And every little girl just wanted to be seen and known and loved.

Use the love you've known to make a difference. Because it can and it will. 

Shoulda Bought the Tarp

I stood in line at Aldi and contemplated long and hard. 

Two tarps for $10. They weren't big, but they would be beneficial. I've needed one in the past. Something inside of me urged me to just buy the tarps. But I've been trying to save money after my trip to CO and so after putting them in and out of my cart two times, I left the tarps on the shelf.

Fast forward two weeks.

I'm standing in line at a local food truck and noticed a homeless man shuffling through his belongings. I asked if he needed any food because "I can just double my order and it's no problem." He thanked me kindly but answered "I bought food, but what I could really use is a tarp." The brisk wind and scattered raindrops hit my skin and sank deeper, straight to my heart.  

I was standing in an Aldi line. I said no to the tarp. Now my hands were empty.

As I drove away I was encouraged to listen, more often, to the sometimes quiet voice deep inside.

I choose not to carry guilt, only the regret of a missed opportunity, and the renewed conviction to discern with more intention the next time I'm deliberating the Quick Finds section of Aldi.

My Body and Me - On the Same Team

I stared in the mirror and sobbed.

I didn't know what to feel, half horror and half sorrow. How and why did my body feel the need to break out in blisters and scabs, otherwise known as Shingles? The pain was one thing, but the visual shock was quite another.

I realized it too late. Four days into the sores and an antiviral isn't as effective. I just kept hoping whatever it was would go away. It didn't. Shingles is nerve pain, and I was told I had a severe case.

I wish I could put into words what I felt when my body stared back into my eyes through the glass.

I loaded up on all the supplements and supports to boost my immune system. I felt like my body hated me. For three years I've tried to support and nurture my auto-immune disease and this is my thanks? Betrayal.

I prayed for healing. Then something switched. 

Day six I looked into the mirror and all I felt was compassion. I sobbed again.

A sense of love and admiration washed over me. I looked into the mirror and whispered "you can do it, you can get better. You're fighting so hard. I want to help." And then I looked at myself and thought "am I talking to myself?" But I knew in that moment that my perspective entirely changed. I realized that for years my body has been trying to communicate with me... I was listening now.

I'm a mind-over-matter kind of girl. If I want to do it, I do it, regardless of the impact. If my body says stop, I take a deep breath and keep going. I'm not sure that has entirely changed, but my awareness has changed. And I feel the urge the count the cost.

What if I channeled my determination? What if I cared for this body that serves me every single day with the same determination? But cared for it in a way that honors the beauty and nourishes the strength.

Over the years my relationship with my own flesh and blood has improved, but it's hard to track the progress. I just know that last year I realized I valued myself in a way I never had. My auto immune disease had caused me to feel like I was fighting my body, wishing it would respond differently. I begged God to change it and desperately wished that my body wouldn't fight itself.

I now have a deeper appreciation for this complex body that God has entrusted to my care. A renewed desire to care for myself, a heart shift that I didn't even know I needed. 

Of Breakfast and Babies

I swung my feet over my bed and grumbled. 

I didn't want to make breakfast for my mother this fine fall morning. I wanted to walk down the stairs in my Vine St. apartment, grind my coffee, crack two eggs, listen to loud music drive by outside and go to work.

But then I stopped. I remembered that I had told my friend not too long ago that I couldn't wait to make breakfast for a man someday. To get up every morning and fix his eggs with mine. To have coffee brewing and just enjoy taking care of someone.

Here I am making breakfast for someone I love - not a man, but my mama. 

Tears ran down my brothers face as time stood still, his role as father now begun in earnest. Sweet baby Charlotte was snuggled up on her mama, baby feeling her mother's skin for the very first time. "You're so cute, you're so cute" were the lowly whispered words as my sister-in-law began to grasp the reality that she had powerfully and willingly pushed a new life into the world. A sacred moment.

I wanted it. I wanted the moment to be mine. To do something hard, to hold a baby and know that it is mine to invest in for years to come. Tears rolled down my cheeks, awe mixed with longing. I asked Jesus to be with me in that moment.

Jesus gently reminded me; to be a doula is a moment that is mine. It is to do something hard, to encourage, to empower and to invest. To be an aunt is to love a baby, a toddler, a teenager. All the sweet chubby and innocent faces of my nieces and nephews - they are mine to love, to cherish and to invest in. Could this also be sacred?

The dreams of my heart are not lost on my Jesus. The fulfillment of my dreams is not mine to decide, but how I enjoy this moment, that is mine to decide.

So I cry and I laugh. I search for the good, the meaningful and even, sometimes, the partial realization of my hearts desire. 

Eyes To See

I tattooed it on my wrist years ago. Eyes to See. Little did I know that it would still be speaking now.

Eyes to see.

"Eyes to see and ears to hear." It'll take me a lifetime to learn the first one, or maybe one leads to the other?

Eyes to see life from a different perspective. Eyes to see my mama as she is now. Cherish what was but embrace what is now.

Eyes to see God working all around me. 

Eyes to see the beauty in the mundane. 

Eyes to see the value that is sitting together, sometimes words, sometimes not.

Eyes to see the promise before the blessing comes.

Eyes to see disappointment and be thankful.

Eyes to see... and eyes that sometimes can't because the tears. Tears mixed with hurt and love. Often I can't tell the reason for the brimming that happens daily. 

But there is one who has Eyes that see it all. All of it. He sees me and He holds my tears in a bottle. He calls me closer and He comes even closer. He invites me to come and cry in His arms; come and laugh in His embrace. If I sit with Him a little longer perhaps I'll learn to see deeper. Perhaps, no I'm certain, He will give me His eyes to see.

3 Week Update

It's been over three weeks since my RAV4 pulled away from Vine St, Lancaster, PA.

Mom and I have settled into a routine. I'll write more on that later as it can be so encouraging and so depressing at the very same time. A paradox of sorts. So much of life is a paradox. Two opposites that are true at the same time. How does one manage the tension well?

Highlights

All the baby snuggles and kiddo kisses 
(14 local nieces & nephews)

Slow morning routine with my mama is coming together

Bedroom set up and cozy

Outdoor workout shed cleaned & I completed my first workout yesterday

Micro-seeds started on the kitchen window

Garden plot scoped out and plans in the making

Wedding dress picked out with the sister

Lots of moments of quiet and reflection

Walks through the woods as spring emerges

Warm wood stove mornings as spring taunts and evades us

Pansies planted on the front porch

Cleaning schedule outlined for the house

Two job applications

&

Countless special moments with my parents. I prayed for months in advance that our times together would be sweet. It's beautiful.

Challenges

How do I live in the moment when it feels like wasting time?

Does frying eggs and chopping salad fixings while having the same two chats for the 13th time with mama... does it matter in light of eternity? 

I miss the safety and calm of my Sunday morning worship service and community. I miss the predictable Saturday mornings at market. I miss the friends that know me, understand this version of me.

How does one find a new church when you never wanted to leave the old one? How do you embrace a new culture and leave judgement and skepticism at the door while still having preference and opinion?

Is my life on hold or maybe this current now, maybe this has purpose and beauty right here and now?

How do I find a job? I realized that I've never actually job hunted in my life. And it's probably on my list of least favorite things ever.

-----

My life looks very different then two months ago, but I have confidence that I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Jesus is very patient with me as I muddle my way through the days. All the little joys are all around -- and God is giving me eyes to see. 

Memory

 Memory.

It comes and it goes.

Yet it's vital to our existence. What do we do when it starts to fade?

I clamor inside my brain. Trying to find a way to help her remember. But the harder I try to worse it gets. It's like explanation brings confusion. Words that are meant to clarify don't.

I watched my grandmother. Her mother, my grandmother. I watched disease eat away at memory. When memory leaves does love remain? Can you love if you don't remember?

If my mother follows her mother, will she remember me? Grandma didn't, will my mother?

Health is a choice, I can't choose for her.  So if love is attached to memory and memory goes without asking is love then the result of her own heart, or just because she remembers?

But love comes from God. He knows love, He knows me. He knows my mother and my grandmother. God knows hearts. He knows what their hearts remember, what their minds forget. God never forgets. He always remembers.

So I will remember, while I have memory. Because maybe memories are a result of moments spent with those you love. And you remember because you love. So if the memory goes away, the love still remains, even if you don't remember.

So you can have love without memory. Because God loves and always remembers. 

2024 - God is Enough

In September I began to pray for a theme for 2024. 

I can't remember when the answer came, but I felt it clear and strong - God is Enough.

I didn't like it.

I told God that I didn't like it and "why can't He give me a theme that is fun and exciting?" Hmm, maybe that's a matter of perspective

Little did I know that I would like it less as January progressed. Jan 16th I looked up moving trucks. $1440 + fuel. There goes my stuff. I had just put in notice for my job, there goes my career. I'm about to say goodbye to the people and spaces I've called mine for the last decade, there goes my security and identity. God is enough. Really?

I sobbed into my pillow. Packing all my stuff in my RAV4 was going to mean giving most of my things away, plants, hobbies, clothes. I called my brother, John. As I was lamenting over the phone I just stopped and listened to myself. Goodness. Yes, things can be important, but my attitude was down-right childish. Do I believe that God is Enough?

Time will tell.

My brother Josh has since called and arranged everything to help me move. I did go through and get rid of so much stuff, but I still have the clothes on my back and enough boxes in my basement to fill my RAV4 and a pickup truck. I'm grateful.

God is Enough. Even if I had to give it all away. Even when I had to give a lot away.

The future is staring me in the face and I can't see past this coming Saturday. 

Will God be Enough? I'm banking on it.

Christmas Disappointment

 Three flight cancellations. Four days at my house instead of home with my family.

I cried. Hard.

I scoured online as my family sent me dozens of different options and solutions. I finally realized that due to my limited finances and inability to drive through the night by myself, I would have to settle with my new flight date - four days after Christmas.

My stomach was growling and diner breakfast and coffee sounded delicious.  I dried my tears and tried to have a good attitude.

The diner was closed. Of course. And at that moment I lost all of my desire to be happy.

The emotions I felt were so strong. I couldn't smile. I didn't want to. Slow drivers ticked me off and I felt like swearing. I hadn't been this disappointed in a really long time. I didn't want anyone to tell me it would work out. I didn't want to see anyone.

I walked through Costco (trying to console myself with frozen pizza and Siete Cinnamon Churros) and pretty much scowled at anyone in my way. I felt like cutting off every cart, and I almost did. Family's together made me angry that I was separate from mine.

I pretty much growled at the perky Chick-fil-a drive-thru chap and they should thank their lucky stars that they didn't ask me how I was doing... they would've gotten my entire sob story.

I didn't want anyones solutions or well-wishes. I wanted to be miserable. And that is about the opposite of me as I could be.

Several hours have transpired since this morning and I have now learned so much about life. These next few points are for me. For me to remember for others and myself in the future.

Irritated people might just have a good reason to be irritated - give a little grace.

Offering solutions when someone is upset is not often the most helpful thing to do - show up and shut up.

"If you choose you've chosen" - don't blame Southwest for weather + that you live 1,200 miles from home.

Jirah: God is Enough

 I sat down in the row at church feeling heavy.  It was a hard weekend. 
More tears than smiles.

Then the message came, more truth than... well, it was all truth. 

I fought the truth hard, tried to make myself the exception. But the thing I've noticed in my relationship with God, when I wrestle with Him He always wins. But the wrestle is needed, because I refuse to have blind faith. I refuse to just say that "God is good" unless I actually and truly believe it. This morning I doubted and I shared my doubt with God Himself. I worshiped anyway because I know that what is true has not to do just with what I feel. So I searched through the fear and the doubt and proclaimed truth. Or maybe I listened to the truth being sung all around me even if I couldn't say the words myself.

I was driving home reflecting on the truth that was preached. God Provides. Everything, always.

Do I believe that? This past weekend, if I'm going to be honest was really hard especially as a single girl. More tears than smiles.

A country song was playing on the radio Buy Dirt and as I was listening I began to think of a slideshow I would create should I find someone someday (dreaming of a cute little farm-ette with a couple babies - just keeping it real, my friends). Journeying together with someone through the highs and lows of life. Then I stopped right there.

Why wait? 

Why wait to make the slideshow. God provides right now, not just if I was to someday find a man.

I began to think of the photos that would make up this last year, proof that my Jesus provides. This reel was born out of that.

Jehovah Jirah: God Provides, God is enough. 

For me. Right now.

Tonight the tears may flow again. But I am learning to embrace the idea that I can feel both joy and contentment AND sadness and longing at the same time. 

Right in the middle of all those feelings is Jesus - promising to be enough for me. Promising to provide. For me.

In your life right now what is proof that God provides? I challenge you, make this quick reel - just 27 photos. Married, single, somewhere in-between or nowhere close, focus for a few moments on Jirah. 

My Hands

Hands. I took them for granted for a full 30 years.

I need them to pour water, unscrew my toothpaste, grasp my crochet needle and to give a firm handshake.

For six months I woke up with pain shooting through my knuckles and left wrist. I pretended it didn't exist. As I winced slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I told myself that surely it was something weird and would go away soon.

Nope.

After a foot surgery to remove a mass and foot discomfort, my doctor recommended I see a rheumatologist. I balked at the idea. I'm just thirty years old, active, fairly healthy and always had control over my body.

My roommate encouraged me to keep the appointment the doctor had scheduled. The specialist ordered blood work and confirmed my fears - I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. I didn't know what that meant. But a quick google search revealed that I had an auto immune disease. The worst part; I couldn't make it go away. Yes, I'm learning there are ways to manage the pain, address the inflammation, but that's different.

This is the beginning of a journey I wish I didn't have to travel. Sometimes my heart is at peace, other times I'm angry at God. There are days where I love the challenge of tackling this from a functional medicine perspective and other days where I just want the pain to be gone. 

Pouring water, unscrewing my toothpaste, crocheting, now these basic activities aren't without pain. I'm hoping it'll get better. I'm actively working with a doctor. I pray for healing. But I have to be ok with this. I have to learn to trust my Jesus in a whole new way. 

I'm still learning, but I have a patient Teacher.

Today death stings, but it won't always.

I feel such sadness. I feel such joy.

My heart wants to break, my heart wants to sing.

My dad always says "pain and happiness run on parallel tracks and often arrive at the same time." My heart feels this ,and then doesn't know what to feel.

Actually no, my heart knows what to feel but my mind often tries to tell my heart that it can't dwell on joy and pain simultaneously. I try to justify the pain while also avoiding the joy.

Jesus wept fully knowing eternity.

My heart is rooted in truth, that I know for sure. To allow my heart to be sad is not negating truth, but rather its allowing my heart to stay soft in order for the truth to stay firm. If I ignore the pain I allow what is a real emotion to go unaddressed. And in my experience pain left alone builds to bitterness, resentment and doubt. 

My sister put it beautifully.

"Having days to reflect on the pain is important. Taking time to remember the goodness of God in the midst of difficult moments is biblical."

Today I will not wallow, but I will lament. 

I will always remember to never forget. #13years #AHB

Grandpa

It has been a wish of mine for my grandpa to hold my baby in his arms and pray.

I love when my grandpa prays. It's like heaven bends down. His faith shines strong and mine grows.

Now he's with Jesus. No need for prayers.

I lament not hearing his spoken prayers over my life and those that would maybe belong to me. But then I was reminded that those prayers were already spoken. My grandpa prayed in faith. My grandpa prayed for me by name and and for my children, because God already knows their names (or if they'll ever even be).

What hope I have because of faith. Because of heaven. Because of prayers of years past to be fulfilled in years to come.

My heart finds comfort.

I'm sure that Jesus seated my grandpa right next to the heroes of old. Pretty sure he couldn't grow a beard, and he may not have slain a giant or seen walls fall, but my grandpa lived by faith and went to battle every single day on his knees.

Grandpa had the kind of faith that slays sin. The kind of faith that watches walls of bitterness crumble. The kind of faith that carries a man through life and straight into the presence of God.

xoxo, Grandpa, I miss you, but not forever.

New Year, New Goals

We ordered coffee. We plopped our backpacks on the ground. 
We settled in for our first Jessica + Anna Goal Chat. 

(her name isn't Jessica, it's just my nickname)

Jessie, her real name, asked lots of questions.  She pulled out her notebook and began to jot down my theme, dreams and plans or the lack of plan. I had already set goals for the new year and was on-track with systems to keep them. But two things stood out that were too overwhelming for me to tackle on my own.

Education.

Housing.

Formal education or self-education. For the last ten years I've had this question spinning through my brain. Several times I thought I would enroll in classes. I've done some research, but mostly it was overwhelming. I made college accounts and began to talk to people, applied for government aid and about submitted an application. This year was the closest I've been yet. But I just couldn't make the final step jsut yet.

I have wondered if it was just fear of the unknown, not wanting debt, the giving up of my schedule. I've tried to be open and not just pretend that it wasn't myself getting in the way of formal education. But I don't think it is. I will tackle the hard when I know it's my next step. I thrive in the discomfort of the unknown. This is different. 

So we came up with a plan. Formal education may be in my near future. It might not be. But regardless, I'm not standing still. I've got purposeful action steps that will lead me in the direction that I feel God has created me for.

I'm excited.

Mostly excited for more goal sessions with my favorite Jessica.

But also for the unknowns that I know God has a hold of. 

The Day Before 30

A couple of my almost-thirty-and-still-single thoughts.

Live, just live.  Dreams come and dreams go. Desires rage, disappointment comes. Choose to live.

Serving people is valuable, but not at the expense of your identity. Loving Jesus is always valuable, He is your identity.

You'll make mistakes.  Big ones. You'll cry yourself to sleep. Often. Let the tears fall.

At the end of the day, married or single, not a whole lot changes with my purpose.

Love God.  Love people. In that order.

Simple. Beautiful.

(I meant to post this on the day before I turned 30.  But it didn't happen, so here it is now)

Women in the Shadows

She can't spell, and she can't read, but she can cook and sew.  Her frail voice spoke disappointedly as she explained that she'd been pushed through school at a young age because she didn't learn like the other kids. Her tone changed to longing as she shared a desire to learn how to spell big words.
"I'm a fast learner" she declared, "and I'm a good memorizer.  That's the way I know some words.  And Anna, I taught myself how to crochet doilies by looking at the pictures."

My heart broke.

Her voice cracked on the phone.  She was found wandering in the rain and taken to a psychiatric hospital.  She had no where to go, she was alone, desperately longing to hear a familiar voice.  20 years addicted to heroine, now 20+ years clean.  Her eyes were shining several months before as she shared her story of how God rescued her from addiction - but choices have consequences, and we aren't given the opportunity rewind our story.

Tears began to fall.

She has a record, fair or unfair it's hard to tell, but it'll haunt her for the rest of her life.  Two pet dogs provide sanity as she juggles limited funds, insecure housing and constant scrutiny from every landlord, every application.  Her climbing credit score would now plummet due to unforeseen world events, a lengthened eviction and, as some would say, "plain bad luck."  But she's a fighter and won't give up.  A warm home is a luxury this woman is determined to find for herself.

I dry tears and dig deep into my soul.

These women won't give up.  They won't back down.  Sure, they won't make the history books.  They won't be known by anyone but creditors, social workers and beloved pets.  But these women will strive every day of their lives for a better existence.  An existence combined with failure, poor choices, strength, courage and a remarkable drive to never surrender to defeat.

Oh the lessons I can learn from these women living in the shadows.  Lessons I could learn it I take the time to sit down and listen to their stories, to walk alongside of them.  We learn best when we learn from each other.  When we lay aside differences, opinions and pasts, and listen to understand, to connect, to learn.

Some struggle through poor past decisions, a hard childhood, a string of circumstances I don't understand.  But when I open my eyes to see and my ears to hear, I find remarkable women I'm blessed to know.  And I'm lucky to learn from them.

Tangled Curls

Her hands twisted in her lap as she stared at the short curls that frizzed around her wide eyes. Uncertainty was evident.
An 11th grade girl was seated in the salon's beauty seat, a place where she clearly felt out of place.

I'd place her mid-twenties, the second figure in the mirror.
Gorgeous black curls swept up in a stylish mohawk ensured my onlooking eyes; this hairstylist knew exactly what to do.  She was a goddess - reigning secure in her ability to transform the wary figure before her.

She wasn't working magic; merely uncovering the beauty that lay beneath the build-up.

Skilled hands gently combed through the short tangles.  A soft voice asked questions and received answers that probably made her insides curl tighter than the hair in her hands. Curls were her specialty, this was obvious.  Not only did she know how to trim, wash and style them in the salon, but she knew just how they should be cared for on a regular basis.  Little by little she gave tips and insight.  The girl in the chair listened well.  Daily changes would need to take place, new habits formed, and although the appointment wasn't finished yet, she was soaking in every word.

Uneasiness washed away faster than the chemicals that coated each dark strand.  Fear was replaced with confidence.  Her curls needn't be a source of out-of-control confusion, but an expression of individuality.

I sat in the chair next to hers.  My own curls, though very different, had also gone through a transformation in this salon.  My own hair habits had needed change and skilled hands and a kind voice instructed me, only two short years before.

But as I sat, waiting for the red color to seep into my hair I couldn't help but think.

How often is beauty waiting just beneath the surface of a tangled life and poor choices?
Every life is beautiful, every soul in need of love - and a little kindness and patience.