Today I happened to see a young girl with beautiful waist long black hair. It definitely couldn’t have been a short term growth. Years of loves labour I thought, would have gone into its length and beauty. The oil massages, the hundred stroke brushings and the hair packs et al. I could imagine her mother taking pains plaiting her mane in the early morning hour rush to get to school. She seemed to have appreciated the efforts taken on her, since she appeared to have continued her beauty regime.
But who knows someday, in the stress of work and hurry it would become cumbersome for her and she would go for a short crop. Probably the changing fashions of time would term her crown of beauty as outdated. So there! She would be seated in a parlour and the scissor would begin its hungry job. Returning home, she would have the confidence of modernity and a bit of regret of breaking loose from the conformity of the beautiful past.
Would you consider her ungrateful to the love and labour of the years gone by? It was just hair yesterday and gone today. Changing times have changing needs; so what’s the use of grief over transitional matters?
The girl I was looking at made me wonder at many other hair stories in life; relations of love and then a shift due to discomforts, or just changing times causing pain. In fact they sometimes appear to cut veins and cause an overflow of emotional bleeding. It makes no sense to have grief over transitional matters! Loves labour may appear to be lost but love remains forever.
The crop of love often faces storms in the field of life. Nothing seems to make any sense. Insecurity, uncertainty and fear grow like thistles all around. Raging storms rise to destroy the calm of life. Everything gets out of control in a split of a second. At such a moment the only option is to be still. “Peace, be still.” Mark 4:39. When everything outside goes wrong and there is nowhere to hide, the only place to go is inside; in submission and prayer, of course!
As I write this piece, the memory of a beautiful hymn ‘Master The Tempest is Raging’ by Mary Ann Baker, comes to my mind and here are its words:
“Master, with anguish of spirit/ I bow in my grief today./ The depths of my sad heart are troubled. Oh, waken and save, I pray!/ torrents of sin and of anguish/ Sweep o’er my sinking soul,/ And I perish! Dear Master./ Oh, hasten and take control!”
Perhaps we could all use this hymn when we want answers but don’t know whom to ask.
Image credits: Google