Friday, January 10, 2014

Of chocolate and Cherry Coke and quiet places

We were parking in a lot when we heard on the radio a DJ asking, "What makes you happy?"

Her coworker said, "Chocolate."

Erin and I laughed.

"That's a weird answer," Lanie said.

"It makes sense to me," Erin answered.

"I kinda get it too," I said.

Just getting over a bout of change--that struggling urge for different. I bought two different hair color kits last fall around my birthday--when I wanted a change. I ended up doing the regular color and saved the new one for another time. Then just before Christmas, I got fed up with the roots and decided to color my hair. I had that new one in the closet. I took it out and colored my hair.

"Mom!" Lanie said--because there's always a child in the bathroom when a mom wants privacy. "Your hair!"

"I know," I said. "It's dark." But I hadn't even seen it yet because I was towel drying it.

"No, it's red!"

"What?" I looked in the mirror and it was dark. But then I ran my fingers through it, exposing it to light, and it was red.

"Oh. No."

I sent Shane a text: I'm sorry for what I just did to my hair.

It looked like I poured Cherry Coke over myself. I know people who pay to get their hair like that, and it's great for them. But this totally. wasn't. me. And then commenced the whole thinking of change, and the amusement of this situation.

On the phone with Christy. No, I'm not crying.

Shane came home and I took off the hat I was wearing.

"It's not that bad," he said.

"It's not that bad meaning you don't mind looking at this for the next four weeks, or it's not that bad but I should fix it?" I asked.

"Fix it," he said.

Then I became black walnut with sparse ash highlights. (I really love it!)

Erica asked if I took a selfie in the bathroom. No, I didn't. Erin took it. But the bathroom was the room with the most light.

So maybe in the process of change, we sometimes don't look like we want to, but then get to a place that makes the effort worthwhile.


I am finding that living wholehearted isn't necessarily joyous, that it can be heavy-hearted. It's taken me to quiet places, weighty places, prayerful places. It's made me feel powerless, ineffective, and awkward (and this is only ten days in).

This has been a quiet week of getting back into routines, curling up in inside warmth, and discovering the key to slowing time (to be fully in the moment).

Her favorite book at the library

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