Recently I escorted a lady to get her hair done. It was cozy to be in the company of women nurturing others. It reminded me of when my twins fix each other's hair, or when their older sister came from the city to help her younger siblings feel beautiful for graduation. One time at camp the twins created a chain of locks between four girls, French braiding their tresses in a circle. Just for fun.
There was gentle banter and laughter in the salon as the hairdressers worked. Snipping. Sweeping. Combing. Mixing magic potions of color. Looking closely. Searching for the most flattering angle. Swiveling the mirror for a better look.
As it happened one of the women getting a cut noticed her own daughter on the street outside with her friends. They waved to each other, and called through the window. What a sweet coincidence, to pass one another in the midst of a busy day.
It was a friendly place, at the juncture of vulnerability that shows up when one person serves another in the arena of personal care. A woman came in who has recently won her own exhausting medical battle. It was tender to hear her sense of relief. She was treated with the utmost respect, as she came to grips with what the past year had wracked on her body.
The words came as quickly as the wisps of hair. They were catching up on each other's lives, and listening to summer plans. When customers come every six weeks over a number of years to plop in the chair their stories become as interwoven as four teenagers with a brush and free time.
The very hairs of your head are numbered. Luke 12
