There are a few conditions in this life that have a way of changing your focus and perspective immediately. They’re the type of scenarios that instantly put this delicate life in its proper perspective.
I’ve written about these kinds of soul rattling awakenings more than a few times here. Some years back in the days my mind was consumed with coaching, I was pulling out of my street, deep in thought about that day’s game and strategy, when movement snatched my eyes.
It was a blind girl on her way to school tapping curbs with her stick… her dad was about twenty feet behind her. He was trying to prepare his beloved for a vicious world that one day she’d have to navigate without him. My spirit was crushed and my perspective corrected.
I’ve also shared about the little girl named Danielle whose dad had left her and her mom. She was living at her grandparents humble home with her mom. One Christmas we went to pay them a visit and do some personalized Christmas caroling, despite the fact that I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.
Danielle had cancer… and I’ll never forget the look of the youngster that wasn’t but a few years past being a toddler. She was close to the same age as my youngest. Seeing a beautiful little princess with no hair from chemotherapy side effects has a way of changing a person’s perspective… no matter how calloused.
That was Danielle’s last Christmas… I think of Danielle often – usually around Christmas. I consider her mom’s life now… I ponder our fallen world along with the pain that accompanies it.
I spotted the little girl toward the back of the coffee shop before anything else when I walked through the door. I quickly glanced making sure not to stare. She had a knee length thin white with a light patterned pink dress on – tennis shoes to match. She was beautiful despite only short light brown hairs that circled the back of her scalp, bald on top.
That’s a hairstyle for old men that have lived long lives, not seven or eight-year-old little girls.
I’ve donated my hair seven times now, this next one will be number eight, which means I will have donated around eight feet of hair to companies that make wigs for kids with cancer.
Make no mistake; this cost me nothing… Hair grows, but usually only for awhile. I don’t share this for personal accolades, I didn’t make my hair grow. I have no authority over it, God does, but it’s coming to an end.
If your hair grows, I’ll be the first to tell that it’s easy to give a gift that costs you nothing… but it can make a small difference in the life of a child and a mom and dad who are suffering in silence.
If you can’t wrap your arms around a young child of God… your hair is the next best thing.