The few. The proud. The cheap. We’re a small band of sisters, we women who dare to let our hair turn gray right in front of God and everyone.
Sometimes I suspect other women are looking at my hair in horror and thinking, “Can’t you see what’s happening? Two words, sister—DYE JOB.”
Maybe I’m rebelling against a culture that seems to worship at the fountain of youth. Maybe I believe my husband when he says he likes my hair. Maybe I trust the hairdressers who’ve essentially told me that if they tried to match my natural hair color, I’d probably end up looking like a raven-haired hootchie-mama.
Or maybe I just don’t want to spend so much money and time keeping the gray at bay.
I don’t usually pay too much attention to my graying locks, but every five weeks, I notice. It’s impossible not to when I get my hair trimmed and the black cape and floor around me are generously sprinkled with white hairs.
I almost always momentarily wonder, “Whose hair is that and how’d it get there?”
I was also taken back a few weeks ago when I was nearly blinded by the bright morning sun reflecting off my hair when I flipped down the visor mirror to put on some lipstick. (Safety disclaimer: I was not driving. I was a passenger.)
It was then I realized that the balance between “salt” and “pepper” was decidedly shifting over to the “salt” side.
But then I thought, “Why, doggone it, is this such a negative thing for women in our culture? Why is gray hair bad? Why is old bad?”
When youngsters reach developmental milestones, we think that’s wonderful. Babies roll over, toddlers toddle, tykes begin to talk, little ones start school, students graduate, young couples get married, and we praise and gush and applaud.
So at what point do developmental milestones become something we dread, disparage and try to hide?
Why isn’t gray hair just another positive marker on the path of life? Why don’t I ever see posts on Facebook like, “Woo hoo! Just found another gray hair today and I am SO excited! Look how far I’ve made it!”?
I have a theory. I think we celebrate milestones in the lives of the young because we feel those achievements mark progression towards “real life”—that time when we supposedly reach our physical and mental peak.
After we reach that nebulous peak, milestones become reminders that we’re now heading downhill towards our ultimate demise.
Well, I’m here to shout that is SO not true for those who believe what God says and value what He values!
In fact, the Bible calls gray hair a “crown of splendor” and says it should garner respect (Proverbs 16:31, 20:29), not scorn.
A psychologist might have a heyday searching out the roots of my hair-coloring aversion (pardon the pun), but I think it boils down to this: as thankful as I am for the blessings of God and the good life He has given me, I don’t want to tenaciously cling to the past, even my hair color.
For those who’ve received the eternal life God offers through faith in His Son, Jesus, gray hair isn’t a reminder that the end is near. It’s a reminder that a glorious beginning is near and that “real life”—the best life—hasn’t even started yet.
Sorry Lady Clairol, but it’s true—my best is yet to come. So bring on the gray hair. I choose to see it not as a harbinger of decline, but of glory.
And with apologies for taking this a bit out of context, I say with the Apostle Paul, “But by the grace of God I am what I am” … gray hair and all.