Her Crowning Glory (Or is it a Wig?).
Her Crowning Glory (Or is it a Wig?)
Almost nine months had passed since I had left home without wearing a wig and it felt good to finally be the real me once again.
It was in the spring when I began to notice daily accumulations in the shower drain and it became more difficult each morning to cover the holes in my coiffure. I thought maybe I was becoming too self-focused and vain; after all, no one else had mentioned my thinning hair.
Summer came and with it the opening of our backyard pool. Following a swim with my husband one afternoon I couldn’t help but notice the look of horror on his face when I came up from the water soaked from head to toe. Keep in mind I’m married to an engineer who has rarely if ever noticed my new hairstyles, outfits, fragrances – or even when I rearrange the living room furniture. When I emerged from the water with wet hair devoid of all products to add lift and volume, his expression was a mirror of the truth I did not want to face. Thus began my codependency with wigs.
I obviously needed to discover the medical issues that were causing my hair to fall out, but even more urgent was a visit to a local store that specialized in every hair accessory imaginable. I found a short clip-on piece, much like a toupee, that blended with my existing hair and offered an inconspicuous amount of coverage. Next I began a battery of assessments at my healthcare practitioner’s office. Testing revealed significant thyroid imbalances, gluten sensitivities and my body’s rejection of important nutrients. In the meantime, I moved from the small partial hairpiece, to a full wig as my own hair continued to shed.
I began a new thyroid medication, took mega-doses of biotin, changed my dietary habits and had pill boxes for morning, noon and night. I continued to keep appointments with my hair stylist because I needed another woman who would truly understand the emotions of losing one’s own hair. Mary would evaluate the gains and losses, fluff and style my hairpieces, hug me, and tell me I was beautiful. At each visit she would exclaim how natural the wigs looked and vow she was going to visit the shop and buy one for herself.
With each trip to the doctor’s office I would be Pollyannaishly hopeful that the meds were working, only to find that no progress had been made, a new thyroid medication would be prescribed, and a new regimen would begin. Yet another wig would be added to my collection.
The chronicle continued for months. For an eight-week period I received weekly IV cocktails due to my body’s inability to absorb oral medications. At home I ingested prescribed powders in the morning, noon and night. Every Saturday I would gently blow dry and attempt to style my real hair, only to end up near tears before donning my wig.
I learned much about wigs during this time. Human hair wigs were too high-maintenance for my liking, expensive, and required daily curling. My synthetic wigs looked natural and a shake and fluff had them looking fresh and new. Unfortunately, they are very sensitive to heat. I destroyed three wigs by cooking – in the kitchen, over the outdoor grill, opening the oven door. Even mild heat would cause the synthetic fibers to immediately singe and fray beyond repair.
I felt conspicuous and unnatural wearing the wigs, but would not dare go anywhere without one. Most of my colleagues knew my story, but whenever someone commented on my beautiful hair, I felt compelled to tell them “it wasn’t me” and that I was only wearing it until my thyroid issues could be corrected and my own hair grow back. I have always loved being around groups of people, but during this time I began isolating myself so others would not see me and think me a fake.
Finally the Saturday morning came when I styled my own hair and my husband responded, “Wow! You look good!” He was preparing to drop off his car for some maintenance and asked me to pick him up. As I pulled my car out of the driveway, it occurred to me that I had not been in my car without a wig in almost nine months. That day we met with some friends who had not seen me in the wig days and I began to feel that my life was returning to normal.
My thyroid has begun to respond to all the efforts, my hair is beginning to thicken, and for two full days I have been wigless. Though it is freeing in some ways, there is still a vain insecurity as to how I appear to those who don’t know my story. I have some wonderful, supportive friends who have prayed for my hair as they have brushed their own, and this has made me realize all the more how important it is to acknowledge the pain in those we love as they find themselves vulnerable in the journey of life.
A New Year’s Resolutions Check-In
If you are like me, you probably made a list of resolutions, goals, or aspirations for the New Year and promised yourself that this year would be different from years past. Today is the last day of February, Leap Day on the current calendar, and about sixteen percent of 2012 is a memory. So, how are you doing?
Being touted as a professional organizer, I relish making lists and checking off items as they are completed. The dawn of a new year is a fresh “To Do” list just waiting for the lines to be filled in with dreams and ideas to expand our horizons and cause us to live our lives with intention and purpose. So, once again, how are you doing?
My friend LeeAnne is a like-minded accountability partner and we have committed to keep each other on track. At our end-of-January meeting we were energized and had high hopes for continuing to climb our mountains and reach the December 31st summit as stalwart, unstoppable, capable women. When we met for the February check-in, our steps were faltering. February was a short month and it was gone before we realized it. Excuses brought temporary consolation, but now it was time to pick up the pace. Let me share with you ten of my goals for 2012, a bit of progress, and some of the set-backs in my adventure…
- Create places of order & beauty within my home. In January I organized my pantry, linen closet, wrapping paper, bows, & boxes. In February, I planned to organize my loose recipe clippings, but must have become side-tracked because my recipe project has been barely touched.
- Practice financial frugality. In January I brought the balance to zero on a lingering debt, and decided in February to shop only when I had coupons. I clipped coupons and strategically planned my shopping during the first two weeks of the month but became side-tracked by week three. I told my husband “I can’t go to the store until I plan my trip with coupons, so let’s eat out instead!” It worked, but it hardly met my goal for being financially frugal!
- Show hospitality. In January we planned an impromptu chili supper and hosted 23 of our neighbors. In February we planned a themed Valentine’s party and invited eight of our closest couple-friends to our home. I love this goal and am already planning the March event!
- Experience new adventures/getaways with my husband. In January I registered us for a cultural dance class, but February just drifted away. I could blame it on adopting a rescue dog and the subsequent training, but really that is just an excuse. I need to work on ideas for just the two of us to relax together away from the demands of others. He is my best friend and partner in every way and deserves my time, thought and attention.
- Further my genealogical research. This is my favorite hobby and I have made monthly progress with a break-thru on one of the maternal branches of my family tree, and connected with cousins that I didn’t know existed. I’m doing okay on this goal and just need to keep steadily climbing.
- Professional growth. In January I prepared and delivered a presentation for my colleagues, and laid the groundwork for a particular professional designation. January saw some enthusiasm, but February has shown none. I’ve been too busy (so I tell myself) with working with clients and taking care of day-to-day demands that I have not had time to advance another rung on the career ladder. In March I am determining to increase my pace up this mountain.
- Read & Write/Book & Blog. In January I read a historical documentary and wrote a blog. In February I began three books (but finished none) and I am running the gauntlet to get this blog submitted before the clock strikes twelve!
- Develop, cultivate, and nurture my friendships. Weekly niches were carved in January and February for face-to-face time with individual friends. We have had coffee-time together, driven two hours to meet for a late lunch, shared girl-talk over bowls of soup, relaxed over a leisurely Mexican dinner, discussed hardships and tears with a desk between us, grabbed cups of coffee at an internet café, and several other scenarios. I am blessed with smart, beautiful women of different ages and circumstances, and I don’t want to neglect their importance in my life.
- Attack and modify bad habits. I am a terrible procrastinator and always think I have more time than I actually do. In January I took care of a two-years-late mammogram, and am paying more bills on-line (no more late fees!). I habitually continue to cram in one more task before I slip out the door, thus making me late once again for an appointment. I absolutely must discipline myself to curb this unsavory pattern.
- Grow deeper in what I know, believe, and do. In January I pursued a study in the principles of seeking forgiveness according to scripture, and then made application of what I learned by asking forgiveness from one of my children for a careless offense. I had lofty goals for an intellectual/scientific study on the Great Flood, but other time-stealers got in my way. Once again, I need to become more intentional in this area.
So, how are you doing? By taking the time to jot down the progress, and lack thereof, I find it very telling of the strengths and weaknesses in my life. It isn’t too late to establish some goals, or to eliminate some of the things you thought were important a few months ago, but are no longer. We still have about 84% of 2012 to pick up the pace, climb this mountain, experience the aches and faltering steps, and feel our hearts beating wildly in our chests. Once we reach the summit there will be panoramas we cannot see from these February knolls, and we will have lived 2012 with passion and intent.
So grab your gear, bring along a friend, and let’s climb this untamed, beautiful mountain of 2012!
A New Dance for a New Year
The room had stopped whirling and I steeled myself to regain equilibrium as the musicians continued to play. “It’s okay. Lean on me” he spoke reassuringly. And I did.
One of the branches of my husband’s ancestral tree extends from Scandinavian royalty. We embrace cultural experiences that are off the well-trodden path so when I scanned the arts schedule and saw the Scandinavian dance session for couples, my adventure meter began ticking rapidly. We are on the verge of the empty nest and still watch for opportunities to experience new adventures together. The class was tonight and it was already mid-afternoon. I made the phone calls and there was indeed room for my husband and me.
Upon arrival we were heartily welcomed by a small group of enthusiastic dancers just before the brief lecture on the history of Sweden, Norway, Denmark, and the folk music accompaniments. The instructors were a married couple; she hailed from the German-speaking side of Denmark while he visited Sweden during his college years, became enamored by the country, and remained learning the folklore, customs and history. From the reservoir of their combined experiences they spent the following three decades studying and teaching Scandinavian dancing to other couples. We were escorted to the dance floor and the music began.
The moves became fluid with practice and soon I was pleased with myself until the instructor strode over, extended his hand, and asked me to accompany him. The first moves across the dance floor seemed easy enough and I kept in step with the 360-degree pivots. Then he took me a little deeper. He twirled me once, returned to our basic moves, and then twirled me twice. He steadily pushed to the limits of what I had learned but increased the repetitions. I maintained my posture and hung on as he led me in pirouettes without a break. To keep from becoming dizzy I concentrated on my focal point as all else spun into a blur. Finally the twirls glided smoothly into the resting phase of the movement, but I struggled to regain my balance. “Lean on me”, he said as he gracefully brought the dance to its proper ending.
God frequently uses my daily experiences to whisper to my heart of His tender love and care. Sometimes I make my calls, set my goals and then ask Him to bless what I have already determined to do as I envision myself victoriously gliding along. Often He gently leads me into a better way through circumstances, failures, and glimpses of success. When I acknowledge His presence and let myself relax in His care and trust in His wisdom, He gradually takes me into deeper communion with Him, then He sweeps me into the graceful dance of me giving Him praise and worship for far exceeding what I could ask or think … and He opens my eyes to new ways of following and leaning on Him. When I rest in His arms, trusting His strength and following His lead, the dance of my life becomes one of beauty and grace.
In this new year, instead of privately dancing in the comfort of my safe, secure little world, I long to grasp the Hand of Jesus as He takes me onto His dance floor with the purpose of refining the talents and abilities He has given me to bring inspiration, encouragement and comfort to others. It may be scary at times and I may get dizzy and lose my balance, but if I lean into Him and rest on His support and strength, I’ll be able to gracefully complete the work He has given me and the dance in my soul will never end. In this New Year, if you are not already on the dance floor, step out and begin learning the steps of a New Dance with the Creator of your soul.
Tennessee Pearls in My Treasure Box …
It is said that true southern women are the most gracious and hospitable of any region in the nation. We are taught to love our men, fiercely protect our children, and respect our elders; however, we also learn to embrace the value of physical labor that involves dirty hands and getting the job done well. At a young age I learned to mow the grass and pull weeds from the foundations and fences around our property, and pick strawberries by the crates under the hot summer sun in Daddy’s garden so he could sell them to the corner store and to the country folk who came to call. I recall the sting of vinegar in my nostrils while canning pickled beets with Mama in a kitchen filled with the steam from hot water-bathed Mason jars and beets foaming in large pots on the stove. After all these years there is still nothing quite like warm tomatoes fresh from the vine, tire swings hanging from large oak trees, and the sound of frogs croaking under a blanket of stars. Born the second of three daughters in a small rural community of east Tennessee, I love the South and the rose-colored glasses that are naturally a part of my wardrobe.
In my world, wisdom comes from realizing that people are more important than things, and happiness is a bi-product of meaningful choices, relationships, and met needs. Women of strength and character have mentored and loved me enough to tell me when I was on the wrong path, and I aspire to impact others likewise. There is richness in developing and maintaining relationships with women of diverse ages and circumstances, while being mindful of opportunities to cultivate new relationships and nurturing existing ones. As an occasional speaker, I find fulfillment in sharing the tidbits of insight gathered from women wiser than I.
Tennessee Pearls intrigue me for they represent an unassuming innocence. Cultured saltwater pearls are beautiful, but predictable, and receive much exposure from sermons, popular love songs, and the jewelry industry. The freshwater pearls from Tennessee are created in the quiet, familiar rivers we instinctively take for granted inside an insignificant, unimportant creature called a mussel. Tennessee Pearls have an uncommon beauty and are seldom alike in appearance. They are not sold in beaded strands due to the difficulty in locating similar shapes and colors; instead, they stand-alone as pendants and rings. Such are the people who have shaped my life and whose lives I wish to emulate; distinctive in character, rich in simplicity, and independently valuable. These are the Tennessee Pearls in the treasure box of my heart.
In the days and weeks to come, it is my hope that we grow together in shared experiences and lessons learned. Welcome to my blog!
