Never a Bad Hair Day

This morning's endeavors

Mary Frances has always been a proper Southern Belle. For as far back as I can remember she got her hair "done" every week. She'd grab her Reader's Digest (for time spent under the dryer) and her wallet and sashay down to Mattie's beauty parlor - a establishment  in the heart of downtown Seaboard. (That's a bit hoity-toity. Mattie's was a matter of yards from our front yard and the entire "downtown strip" accounted for about 1/2 a block. Nonetheless.) 

When I would pop by for one excuse or another, a clumsy tween in a true women's inner sanctum. I'd be greeted by the unmistakable aroma of perm solution and hairspray and the constant hum of over-the-head hair dryers and the dripping spritz of the shampoo bowl. In a real sense, the beauty parlor provided a sanctuary where the 60's and then the 70's woman could literally let her hair down. The laughter, the gossip, and the pleasure of a new "do" was palpable. 

When Mattie's closed  Mom sought and found other friends to help with her hair. For a time it was Marcia, out by Ramsey's Crossroads and their friendship grew deep and rich. Then, another blessing came her way when her beloved neighbor, Laura, gave her a refresh every Friday. Faced with having to shampoo her own hair (horrors) she turned to my Dad who graciously and lovingly gave her a shampoo in the kitchen sink, just in time for Laura's arrival.  Laura had her style down to a science, one which my nephew Shawn described as two "hairballs" but I think it was more "stylish gentlewoman of a certain age." 

Laura, Mom, and great grandchildren Caleb and Molly

Mom, Kaylee and Molly

Nephew Shawn with Mom and her "hair balls"

But things continue to change. And Mom became a Durham girl in her late 80's. She resisted going to my "guy" (dear friend Earl- not to be confused with my husband Earle ) because she was so happy with Laura's handiwork. But at last she relented and we began our regular appointments together, including her occasional perms. It became a regular shared pleasure, generally finished off with chocolate chip cookies from Hardee's.  I'd marvel at Earl's patience as he listened attentively to the same stories she told him delightedly every week. He treated her with such care and patience and she left with such pride in her look. 

Earl and the "Barbara Bush"

Once her forays to the salon became too difficult for her, Earl would drop by out of kindness and restore her hair to a semblance of order. Prior  to Earl's arrival, I'd call up my girlfriend, Geri, and she and I would have a meeting of the "Rub-a-Dub Club" at which she and I would wrestle Mom into the tub for a bath and shampoo and have her sitting pretty for his arrival. When he left, she'd once again be beaming with pride!

The Rub-a-Dub Club

But again disruption happened. And here we sit. At home. For months. Mom is medically fragile so her world shrunk even more than most. So out of necessity, I became shampoo girl. And hair stylist. Let's just say it's a blessing Mom can't write a YELP review. Sadly, her current cut looks a bit like I mangled a bowl-over-the-head look. But we persevere. We laugh. This morning Mom reminded me she had to remove her glasses. I watched, amusedly, as she reached for them and found nothing but air. I'd removed them before I wheeled her into the bathroom. She laughed in delight and so did I. Once again, her hair is refreshed and she sighs with the simple pleasure of a clean scalp. 

Life changes. We change. One of my jobs as caregiver is to bear witness to the changes old age brings to my mother. At times it is excruciatingly difficult to see her lose a capability - especially when she slowly gave up reading. But other times, I am astonished by her capability to accept change. It's something she has always taught - acceptance. It keeps her heart light and her focus on God. She has never complained about her proximity to the end of her life or expressed fear of any sort. She lives in the moment and  graciously accepts where she is - in all regards. 

That is perhaps  her biggest Christian witnesses. That we trust trust God and accept the challenges that life sends our way. She's learned it the hard way, losing her brother in WWII, then having to move home to care for her grieving parents from a teaching job she loved.  But yet she pulled it off, with grace and love - that same grace and love with which she faces her twilight years- and the grace and love with which she faces a really bad haircut. 

Today's "after" picture. Not much in the way of style, but clean as a whistle. 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:6-7

Life Stages in 3 Rings

I was a senior at UNC when Earle proposed. He teasingly got down on one knee and presented me with a lovely box containng a stunning solitare. It had been his mother's and she had given it to him to give to me. If made me feel welcome and a part of the family. I wore it with pride and great hope for the future.

A few years and two sons later and I am frequently wrist deep in mud, playdough, sand, and worse. I find myself at a jeweler's who offers to clean it for me. Upon returning it, he remarks, "It was a really valuable diamond. Too bad you chipped it." I peered closely and sure enough there was a visible chip on one side. My gut clenched. When I admitted my transgression to my mother-in-law it clenched even tighter. She was disappointed, and I, even more so. I ultimately slipped the ring off in fear of doing more damage. 

 And then came our fifteen wedding addiversary. I had been wearing a plain white gold band for years, a little jealous of friends who showed off their new anniversary bands, or other such sentimental pieces given from husband to wife. To rectify the situation, Earle took me to Jewelsmith and together with a jeweler we designed a sturdy ring with a lovely diamond, encased in a bezel to protect the stone. I loved the final product and wore it with pride for many years. A single glance at it made me feel special. It was a one-of-a-kind ring born of our union.I was finally coming into my own and this ring echoed my new sense of self.

But life happens. And late in 2019 the band broke. I was so busy with the whirlwind of Christmas and caregiving for my mom that I slipped it off and went back to my original plain band. After so many years my finger felt bare again.

 On Christmas in 2019 my son and his wife gave me a delightful ring stamped with tiny mushrooms. I loved it! It joined other silver rings in a small bowl from which I selected a ring to wear daily. But soon, I wasn't dressing to go out of the house. Including no visit to get my ring repaired. Finally, in the summer, in an attempt to reclaim a bit of normal, I made an effort to wear an occasional piece of jewelry. I was drawn to the mushroom ring. It was a bit snug on my right hand, but fit beautifully on my left. And so I began to wear it, paired with my wedding band.

My first ring told the world I was to be married. My second ring told me I was valuable and unique. But this ring, in the time of a global pandemic tells me even more. Nat had Lilly had had it inscribed inside with the words EVEN IN THE DARK, GOOD THINGS GROW. This ring tells me joy, peace, and happiness can be found even when life seems devoid of light. It urges me to name those good things, cherish those good things, express gratitude for those good things and hope for more good things. This ring tells me to look for the good, to expect the good. And to grow, despite the conditions.

I have had others admit to me, in an almost an embarrassed way, that they have prospered during this time. They have stayed home, they have cooked in, they have spent more times with the ones they love, treasured the quiet, and walked closer with God. They have read more, created more, written letters, taken photos and done many things they have never had the time to do. And while we all ache for those lost, including my own precious first cousin, Marcia, we have learned to take this pandemic, one day, one hour, one minute at a time while we wait for a vaccine, for the return of spring, for a healed nation, and for that far off day when we can hug one another again.

 But for now, we stay still and quiet, full of peace and hope, and like a mushroom flourishing in the dark, we wait.