Got Your I.D. Card?

Can you remember back when you were a kid?  I think I have a pretty bad memory, but there are scenesfrom my formative years that really stand out.  There are also concepts, not occurences, that I know shaped the way I think, what I do, and what I think about myself.

One of the most obvious things about me has always been my hair.  If you know me, if you’ve ever seen me, you know I have a substantial amount of ‘fun’ on top of my head.  When I was a little girl people would often comment about it.  My mother was never quite sure what to do with it.  You could give a weather report by it.

My sister, on the other hand, had long, straight, thick blonde hair.  She could do anything with it and it was always what I aspired to.  Our personalities are almost as opposite as our hair, but she’s always been my closest ally.  She would brush her hair, I would watch and try to duplicate.  Then I’d cry and throw the brush.  I went through countless hairstyles and formulas trying to become straight-haired like her.  None of them worked.  I felt like I never was as pretty, put-together, or stylish.  This so totally shaped what I thought of myself.  There was always this curly cloud looming over my self confidence.  Peoples comments were often far cries from compliments.  They were just comments.  But it began the shaping of my curly identity.

Then the 80’s came along.  Big hair. Big, Curly, wild hair.  Finally.  I happened upon this crazy, barefoot, bare-chested hairstylist who transformed my mess into style.  He showed me what to do with the beast, and led me into the world of ‘hair product’.  People noticed that, too, and commented.  Once again my identity was wrapped up in my hair.  People described me as the ‘curly headed girl’, and I described myself the same.  The hair caught peoples attention, and it became ‘who’ I was and ‘what’ I was.  Hair.

Now, how ironic that my gifting in life is ‘doing hair’.  But I had a lesson to learn.

About five years ago, after a not-fun time in my life, I took a good long inventory of self.  I realized that I had wrapped so much of my identity up in my hair, that my hair was who, and what, I was.  Sounds kinda ridiculous to hear myself say that now, but it’s true.  How could something so non important as hair take over so much of what I think of myself and where I placed my identity?  But it did.  I was the one with the hair.  Plain and simple.  It was me, I was it, my hair was Who I was.

So after that inventory, I decided I needed to realize where my identity really needed to be, where identity comes from and how to get there.  I had been taught it all my life but never put it into practice.  My identity comes from Christ.

But things had gotten in the way of that realization and practical application.  Hair.  How ridiculous.

So, I chopped it all off.  I mean ALL OFF.  It was about an inch long all over my head.  I got rid of what was standing in the way of realizing that Christ, not my hair, gives me my identity. 

It was fun and painful all at the same time.  Liberating and anxiety laden all at once.  Vulnerability.  Openness.  Nakedness.  That one action thrust me into a whole new realm.  People still commented.  Some were fantastic complements and some were hurtful comments.  But it didn’t matter.  I didn’t need hair on my head, or peoples acceptance of it, to make me confident in who I was.  I was released from the burden of incorrect identity.

Now that I’ve learned that little lesson, I have been able to find a better balance of style versus identity.  I can be stylish, and enjoy complements, (when It’s not raining!) but not need any of that to know that God loves me just the way I am and that’s all that matters.  I belong to Christ, not to a fashion statement.

Now my hair is a Part of who I am, not the definition of who I am.  It’s a fun part of me and I like it.  I embrace my curls and love teaching others to embrace theirs.  I am now able to use the knowledge and experience to help my clients and friends understand that our outward appearance is a wonderful part of what God gave us to make us unique and special, but it’s not where our identity is or comes from.

I am ‘fearfully and wonderfully made’ – curls and all.