I can thank Pinterest for inspiration, or use the fact that I hadn’t done anything to my hair in 3 years as a reason. I can say I wanted to be like a rockstar with mermaid hair, because it’s fabulous.
But that’s not really why I dyed my hair RED.
Something inside me changed.
Not just the part of me that I won’t miss, but something hardened.
Hardened like clay being fired up.
There’s been a fire, and it was awful, but it was refining.
Most of you know how affectionate I am, how I hug a lot, yeah?
Hugging feels weird right now.
Last night at work, I had two coworkers come hug me, and I almost stepped back away from them. I don’t understand that. Physical touch is my love language, scored a perfect 12 on the test I took in 2012. But now, no? I guess I’m different.
I noticed this in Thailand, too. I didn’t hug my team that much, not as much as I would have normally. You can ask my Uganda team how much I used to hug. Yikes. I’m practically a koala bear, and other people are trees to me. Yet now not so much. My closest friends have moved away, the ones who cuddle. I went through my last storm pretty much alone physically, aside from my girls on the phone.
And maybe it’s a maturing thing, a growing thing, to develop this harder edge. Maybe it was good for me to not be coddled, cuddled, or brought stuffed animals to. I’m 27. I don’t need to go crash at a friend’s house for 3 days when life goes upside down. I almost did. I almost drove 4 hours for that kind of comfort, but God did something different.
He comforted me instead.
I’ve had times when even my phone wouldn’t work, and I would frantically scramble and sometimes pull over in my car, and just cry. Hold the steering wheel and cry. And ask God why I couldn’t even talk to my friends. And He would instantly respond “you need to talk to me” and I’d just cry harder.
This, my sweet friends, is red.
This is why I dyed my hair red.
Not for attention, no. God knows I get enough attention, why would I need to change my hair? I’m seen and heard. I’m a dominant presence from birth, and I couldn’t hide if I tried.
No, this red… this red is the proof I survived the fire and it changed me.
Consuming Fire came near to my broken heart and it hurt and hurt, and I thought maybe my heart was finished. And I know it isn’t. Daily, I’m told it isn’t. He’s bringing my heart back to tenderness, He is. He must.
He is helping me to set my logic aside, and my formulas, and my calculations, and my data… because none of it can stand up to the miracle of His mercy for me.
The red of His blood.
The red of His passion for me.
The red of His anger that I got hurt.
The red of the rising sun in my life.
It’s a new season, and I want to be reminded that I’m different, that I’m a work in progress, that the fire I carry isn’t done with me yet.
For what mortal has ever heard the voice of the living God speaking out of fire, as we have, and lived? -Deut 5:26