I was supposed to look like Jamie Lee Curtis, the actress on the yogurt commercials who looks fantastic with very short, salt-and-pepper hair.
Instead, I think I might look like a brontosaurus—you know, the giant dinosaurs with the itty-bitty heads.
If I do, I’m blaming it on my husband. Joe likes my hair short. His reasons apparently have something to do with his teenage “appreciation” for the sometimes short-haired Agent 99 on the old “Get Smart” TV show back in the ’60s.
O-o-o-o-o-o-kay … anyway, as we were watching TV recently, Jamie Lee Curtis appeared in a show and my husband sported out with, “I think your hair would look good like that.”
Joe almost never voices opinions about such things, wise man that he is, so I took note.
“Wow, I don’t know. That’s pretty short,” I said warily.
“It would look good. Your face is shaped kind of like hers,” he assured me.
“Yeah, but the rest of me is NOT shaped like her,” I replied.
The notion, however, intrigued me. I Googled “Jamie Lee Curtis” and found all kinds of info about her hair.
One article said Ms. Curtis’s hairstyle is for women who are “old, bold and sure of who they are.”
Hmmmm, maybe I qualify. (Guess that didn’t sound very bold, did it?)
Someone posted, “I think Jamie Lee is the bravest woman I know to have hair like that.”
I thought, “Good grief. It’s not like she led a team of Navy Seals on a rescue mission in Afghanistan. It’s just hair.”
I’ve had some version of short hair since I was 17, but it never occurred to me that I might deserve a medal for it.
I printed a photo of Ms. Curtis with her brave hair and off I went to my hairdresser.
Whack, whack, snip, snip.
My hairstylist did a good job, but alas, my hair was still perched up there on the same face and body. I didn’t see Jamie Lee looking back at me in that mirror.
But—get this—my husband says he thinks it’s cute. I’m not quite sure I get it, but I honestly think he means it.
I may see a brontosaurus when I look in the mirror, but that’s not what Joe sees. And in this, his vote counts the most.
This brings me around to an important question: Whose vote counts most in your life?
Not about little things like hairstyles, but in the big stuff of life.
We’re all living to please someone, even if it’s just ourselves. Whose opinion matters most to you?
When Jesus says, “Come, follow Me,” I think He’s inviting us to live for an audience of One. It is a compelling invitation when so many confusing, conflicting voices relentlessly pull us this way and that.
There is refreshing security and clarity in simply saying, “God, I want to please You more than anyone else.”
The oppressive weight of fickle public opinion can paralyze me, the tyranny of selfishness can enslave me, but there is sweet freedom in simply following Jesus, in caring most of all what He thinks, says and wants.
I sometimes forget that and my life gets too noisy, but not for very long. My soul knows now that it doesn’t have to be pulled asunder, so when things get crazy, I quickly recognize that I just need to find Jesus.
And He’s always right there. He quiets the noise; He blows away the confusion; and then He takes me to the mirror and reminds me how I look to Him—holy, beloved and His.
And His vote counts the most.