Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Luke 12:6-7 (NIV)
What’s the worst thing about mid life? Is it the hot flashes that require a four foot high fan with a gale force setting? Is it the pounds packed onto my mid section that in a cruel joke by nature make me look pregnant? Is it memory lapses that keep me on my toes, praying I will remember someone’s name before I’m called to introduce them? Is it the need for bifocals that I put on and off to read the computer or a book? Is it the restless nights of insomnia that lead me to stay up all night surfing the Internet or reading? Those are all pretty frustrating as well as life changing, but I have to say I think the worst thing about getting old is the facial hair. It all started innocently enough one morning as I drove to work. In the glare of the rising sun, I saw what I thought was a stray hair flitting in front of my eyes. Pulling it, I was shocked to feel the pain coming from the top of my nose and not the top of my head. I could only remember the words of my grandmother as she lay in her hospital bed a few months before she died. “Honey, don’t ever let them talk you into shaving,” she mumbled. Old age has found me and my next stop is the nursing home. That began a routine of close inspection of my face in the mirror first thing in the morning and again before bed at night. My chin, nose, cheeks, upper lip, even my neck are possible sites where the ruthless invaders might perch. I can hardly see to find them, but I can feel them, and I hunt them down until they are eliminated. In keeping with my grandmother’s advice, though, the more I pluck, the thicker the growth appears. After months of thought and study, this weekend, I purchased some Nair wax for hair removal in “sensitive” areas. I was almost embarrassed to buy it. I only want it for my face, thank you very much. I tried it out a couple of days ago and it worked to a certain degree. Some areas are nice and smooth while others are covered in stubble. The problem was removing the sticky residue from the wax. First, I tried face soap, then, acne wash, but finally resorted to the oily wax remover that came with the package. As soon as I smeared it on, I knew I had made a mistake. Sure enough, a day later, facial hair was the least of my problems. Now, I have pimples and a rash to overcome. Isn’t that the way things often turn out? We think we find an answer to our problems, and it only creates a bigger mess. The only real solution is letting God be in charge of our lives. He’s numbered every hair on our heads, even the ones that grow on our chins.