I’ve come to a conclusion. Not every day can be cleanly labeled as a “good hair day” or a “bad hair day”. No, life just isn’t that convenient sometimes. I’ve discovered the existence of a much more sinister hair behavior: The mediocre hair day.
The mediocre hair day is the black ice of all hair days. It’s just as dangerous as the bad hair day (perhaps even a touch more), but it can be tricky to spot and many never see it coming until it spins their world across the pavement. Talking about it is a little like admitting you have dandruff – what might not have been obvious to others before is now embarrassingly out in the open.
At least with the bad hair day, other women notice it a mile off and extend you a modicum of grace when things go awry with the business of your life. It’s like being at the grocery store and holding up the check out line because your kid is throwing a temper tantrum over the M&Ms you made him put back. You can’t let go of him long enough to even swipe your card and you start to worry that others behind you are growing impatient with how long it’s all taking. The truth is, the mother who’s next in line is thinking, I got you, Sister – been there, done that, and the older woman behind her is shaking her head and saying (out loud, mind you), “Bless her” (or “Love her heart” if you happen to be shopping in East Tennessee).
With the mediocre hair day, though, it’s like you’re standing in that same line, only it’s filled with single, childless women who just want to pay for their three over-priced health food items so they can make it to Starbucks for a skinny latte, no whip, extra whatever-they-put-in-it before the gym fills up with all the slackers who made New Years resolutions and are going to quit in a month or so anyway (insert the rolling of said women’s eyes). There’s simply no sympathy from some when you’re having a “just-ok” hair day.
At this point are you wondering what struck me with such revelation that I’m prattling on about this so much this morning? Yesterday I was on my way out the door to pick up two of my friends from the middle school youth at our church (no school means movies and cupcakes!), when I stopped by the mirror for a quick look. There it was: not so much what you would call bad hair, but definitely not good hair. It was just there. Limp, plain, and a little out of place. I decided to put it in partial time-out (a.k.a. a ponytail – full time-out calls for a hat), but not before I realized the metaphor that could be drawn between the state of my ‘do and the state of my life.
Yesterday I was feeling like my whole life was having a mediocre hair day. My writing: mediocre. My parenting skills: dangerously approaching horrible, but still in the realm of mediocre. My house: a mediocre state of clean. Dinner: egg salad sandwiches and a makeshift salad – not exactly “excellence”. Teaching Sunday school, ministering to kids, loving my husband, equipping my oldest kid for life, managing my money: all mediocre. Even my Scrabble game last night was a sad state of just alright. For my second word I really wanted to spell “loser” but I didn’t have the “r”. “Lose” was ok, but “loser” was definitely more appropriate.
But it occurred to me this morning as I was bracing myself for another “just ok” day, that God never see us as mediocre. He never sits up there in Heaven looking down on us, His beloved creation, thinking, “Hmmm, she’s nice, but she could be better.” The truth is that we all could be better to Him and for Him, but in His grace and mercy He chooses to see us as cherished and blameless. I will never understand how He can look at this tangled mess of my life with all its mats and cowlicks and call me perfect just the way I am. There is truly something amazing about what happened when Jesus died on the cross and exchanged our tattered image for His perfection. How blessed we are to be able to stand on the Son’s merit in the presence of our Father!
I know God’s not oblivious to my faults and shortcomings (He wouldn’t be much of an Almighty if He was), but I also know that because of Christ’s death He is more gracious with me than I am with myself. He knows I’m not perfect, but He loves me like I am. It’s true that my best efforts will never be anything more than mediocre in the presence of His holiness, but that’s why He doesn’t ask me to do any of it on my own. If I allow Him to work through me and rely on His strength to do all those things I’d fail on my own, nothing I ever do for His name and glory will ever be mediocre in His eyes.
If I’d just get my eyes off myself and back on Him, maybe it wouldn’t matter so much how my hair looks. Maybe I could defeat this driving force of women everywhere and shock the world by having a fabulous day despite the horrible, stubborn antics of the strands upon my head. If I can master that, I’ll circumvent the stealthy tactics of this newly-discovered mediocre hair day. It’s a lofty goal, I realize, but in Christ I can do all things, right?
Well, I’ll be working on this one, for sure. Right now I have to go dry my hair and see what kind of day the women in this town are going to be thinking I’m having. In my heart, though, I’m going to try hard to have an awesome day, no matter what happens in the mirror, because I know that God doesn’t think I’m just “mediocre”.
Praise God who sent His Son to die on our behalf, that we might stand as blameless before Him.
The mediocre hair day is the black ice of all hair days. It’s just as dangerous as the bad hair day (perhaps even a touch more), but it can be tricky to spot and many never see it coming until it spins their world across the pavement. Talking about it is a little like admitting you have dandruff – what might not have been obvious to others before is now embarrassingly out in the open.
At least with the bad hair day, other women notice it a mile off and extend you a modicum of grace when things go awry with the business of your life. It’s like being at the grocery store and holding up the check out line because your kid is throwing a temper tantrum over the M&Ms you made him put back. You can’t let go of him long enough to even swipe your card and you start to worry that others behind you are growing impatient with how long it’s all taking. The truth is, the mother who’s next in line is thinking, I got you, Sister – been there, done that, and the older woman behind her is shaking her head and saying (out loud, mind you), “Bless her” (or “Love her heart” if you happen to be shopping in East Tennessee).
With the mediocre hair day, though, it’s like you’re standing in that same line, only it’s filled with single, childless women who just want to pay for their three over-priced health food items so they can make it to Starbucks for a skinny latte, no whip, extra whatever-they-put-in-it before the gym fills up with all the slackers who made New Years resolutions and are going to quit in a month or so anyway (insert the rolling of said women’s eyes). There’s simply no sympathy from some when you’re having a “just-ok” hair day.
At this point are you wondering what struck me with such revelation that I’m prattling on about this so much this morning? Yesterday I was on my way out the door to pick up two of my friends from the middle school youth at our church (no school means movies and cupcakes!), when I stopped by the mirror for a quick look. There it was: not so much what you would call bad hair, but definitely not good hair. It was just there. Limp, plain, and a little out of place. I decided to put it in partial time-out (a.k.a. a ponytail – full time-out calls for a hat), but not before I realized the metaphor that could be drawn between the state of my ‘do and the state of my life.
Yesterday I was feeling like my whole life was having a mediocre hair day. My writing: mediocre. My parenting skills: dangerously approaching horrible, but still in the realm of mediocre. My house: a mediocre state of clean. Dinner: egg salad sandwiches and a makeshift salad – not exactly “excellence”. Teaching Sunday school, ministering to kids, loving my husband, equipping my oldest kid for life, managing my money: all mediocre. Even my Scrabble game last night was a sad state of just alright. For my second word I really wanted to spell “loser” but I didn’t have the “r”. “Lose” was ok, but “loser” was definitely more appropriate.
But it occurred to me this morning as I was bracing myself for another “just ok” day, that God never see us as mediocre. He never sits up there in Heaven looking down on us, His beloved creation, thinking, “Hmmm, she’s nice, but she could be better.” The truth is that we all could be better to Him and for Him, but in His grace and mercy He chooses to see us as cherished and blameless. I will never understand how He can look at this tangled mess of my life with all its mats and cowlicks and call me perfect just the way I am. There is truly something amazing about what happened when Jesus died on the cross and exchanged our tattered image for His perfection. How blessed we are to be able to stand on the Son’s merit in the presence of our Father!
I know God’s not oblivious to my faults and shortcomings (He wouldn’t be much of an Almighty if He was), but I also know that because of Christ’s death He is more gracious with me than I am with myself. He knows I’m not perfect, but He loves me like I am. It’s true that my best efforts will never be anything more than mediocre in the presence of His holiness, but that’s why He doesn’t ask me to do any of it on my own. If I allow Him to work through me and rely on His strength to do all those things I’d fail on my own, nothing I ever do for His name and glory will ever be mediocre in His eyes.
If I’d just get my eyes off myself and back on Him, maybe it wouldn’t matter so much how my hair looks. Maybe I could defeat this driving force of women everywhere and shock the world by having a fabulous day despite the horrible, stubborn antics of the strands upon my head. If I can master that, I’ll circumvent the stealthy tactics of this newly-discovered mediocre hair day. It’s a lofty goal, I realize, but in Christ I can do all things, right?
Well, I’ll be working on this one, for sure. Right now I have to go dry my hair and see what kind of day the women in this town are going to be thinking I’m having. In my heart, though, I’m going to try hard to have an awesome day, no matter what happens in the mirror, because I know that God doesn’t think I’m just “mediocre”.
Praise God who sent His Son to die on our behalf, that we might stand as blameless before Him.
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