My son texted, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!” (I actually deleted several letters to save space).
My daughter posted on Facebook, “My father’s mid-life crisis is giving me a mental breakdown … don’t ask. I’m sure he will explain himself.” (I can only imagine what people could only imagine).
My wife said, “Who are you?”
What created this crisis among my loving and supportive family? I have a hairless face, with a nekkid upper lip, for the first time since 1981. (Yes, that is the West Texas spelling of a word that means to be uncovered). Now, there really is a point to my writing about this that has very little to do with facial hair. I just think all the reactions have been funny. I must say that I did not anticipate the level of discomfort it has created for my offspring. Maybe I should have forewarned them? And just so you know what a thoughtful husband I am, I did indeed give Mrs. Sweetie a few days advance warning.
My kids say I look like their Grandpa. My friends say I look like my son. I take both statements as compliments. I happen to think I am the peanut butter in the middle of a pretty good-looking genetic sandwich (at least the bread on both ends is pretty good-looking). But that is just my opinion.
Psychologically, I think at the 30 year mark of hairy-lippedness, and some challenging midlife questions of what the next few years will look like, I needed to shave down to the basics and see that I am still me. It is not exactly the same face I remember (19 years old and an expert on life), but it is familiar.
I saw a sign not long ago that said, “Be yourself … everyone else is taken.” I like it! My current appearance is not who I am. What is on the inside …the character the Lord is developing in me … the husband, son, father, friend, child of God … that’s who I am. The Bible says that the Lord knows how many hairs are on my head (Matthew 10:30). Neither the color nor the quantity causes a crisis for Him. He has given me the freedom to do with it what I will. He just wants me to honor Him in the way I conduct my life.
I’m probably growing most of it back soon, not because it’s who I am, but because I still like it (and so apparently does my family). It is not my hair, but my life that matters most to Him.
Your life matters, too.
Not that I want to make you feel old or anything, but 1981 is the year my wife was born.
ReplyDeleteOkay, so I wanted to make you feel old. But you're right, facial hair is fun art.