I love my hairdresser. I trust her with my personal style. I share close physical space with her for the better part of three hours every 7 to 10 weeks as she covers up my ever expanding collection of gray hairs. We talk about our husbands and businesses. She listens to me, really listens to me (or she’s doing a really good job pretending to listen to me).
The best part about visiting her: zero judgment. That’s an important thing in a hairdresser. I’m not sure if that’s something they teach in beauty school, but given the dedication many women have to their stylists, I have to think it comes with the territory. Home dye jobs, ragged roots, uneven bang trims. I know Yvonne has seen them all and graciously smiles and says, “I can fix it.”
She won’t deny it when you’ve jacked up your hair. She’ll acknowledge it and chuckle, for sure. But she won’t return your error with guilt, which is something I could stand to learn.
The other night, Ryan was attempting to swap one of the dead overhead lights in our kitchen while I was making dinner. An awkward twist and the bulb slipped. Ryan tried to recover, but his lanky physique was a disadvantage. He swatted the bulb and added force to its downward trajectory, causing it to burst into shards across the kitchen floor. I rolled my eyes, served up a hefty helping of attitude and took on a position of personal inconvenience.
Poor guy, he was trying to do something good and accidentally broke some glass. But, my my uptight, inward-focused self pounced on him. Why couldn’t I be like a good hairdresser? “Yep, you made a mess. No big deal. It’s just (fill-in-the-blank). Let’s clean this up.”
Really, is a smashed lightbulb on the floor such a big deal? In the moment it felt like it was, and it is now, too, but not for the same reason. Broken glass is trivial, but an opportunity for forgiveness monumental.
Ryan, thanks for showing me God’s love every day through forgiveness. I’m afraid it won’t be the last time I’ll need to be forgiven, but I’ll keep apologizing, with God’s help.
Thank you, Yvonne, for being the best hairstylist/life-coach a girl could ask for.