"Excuse Me Ma'am, but I Think Your Participles Are Dangling"

This was the thought that popped into my head after someone who I love so very much suggested that I use spellcheck in my blog. I initially laughed because I knew it to be true but I also laughed out of my own embarrassment of that truth.  And let me just say, this person suggested this with the utmost kindness. It's a part of this person's occupation to use spellcheck and they know that feedback is welcomed and the communication door is always open.

But in the days to follow, it's what I allowed to creep into my mind and stay in my mind. "My participles ARE dangling!" I felt so exposed. I started to wonder if everyone who read it thought the same thing? The truth is probably some. Maybe none. I had to dig deep. I had to pause and ask myself "What am I  feeling?" "What is the underbelly?" There is always an underbelly. If I don't even know what I'm feeling, how can I surrender it to God and trust him with the process?

At the top of my list was fear. Fear of looking ridiculous. Fear that I don't even know how to use spellcheck. Fear that I have minimal skills navigating a computer or a program. Copy and paste still frightens me. Yep! There it is. Fear of being unqualified. Now this is something that has some meat on it. This is the underbelly, not just a dangling feeling of fear to be pushed down and unprocessed.  This I can surrender. I want to live in the gift of this feeling: Wisdom and faith. Not in the counterpart of anxiety.

I can only type what is in my heart. Dangling participles and all, with the sincere  hope that it brings encouragement to just one person who may fancy a read on my blog. So many people encourage me every day with words, smiles, hugs, and the authenticity of their very life. Vessels pouring out. I want to do the same.


 

While trying to come up with a creative way to share my daring, some may say crazy, but mostly scary adventure,  my thoughts went back to a conversation I had with one of the funniest and most creative friends I know. Libby.  Her video’s and pics on Instagram always leave me laughing.  It was my friend Libby who told me one day that I was a babe. Ha! I laughed because I had not heard anything like this since junior high, 1978.  Babe was the word of the day.  “He’s such a babe!"  was on the lips of most of the seventh grade girls in my clas that year, whether we were talking about Frank “Ponch” Poncherello from the t.v. series ChiPs, or the new boy, John, who walked into the doors of our very small school and rocked our world that wonderful September day.  But don't you know....I tucked that little compliment deep into my pocket.  It made me smile and her sweet sentiment is the inspiration for the name of my blog. Thank you Libby. YOU are a babe!

When I was in the sixth grade, I was 11 years old. I have an August birthday so I was always one of the youngest, if not the youngest in my class. Which is ironic because the one “thing” that was older than anyone in my class including my teacher, was my hair. As I sat listening to whatever the subject  was on that day, I felt a stinging pull at the crown of my head. When I turned around, my friend Sang  who sat behind me proudly held up a single strand of my hair between his fingers.  “You have gray hair!” he said, with very wide eyes.  I quickly turned around and had another stinging sensation in my face. I was so embarrassed!  I had seen the few strands in my own mirror but no one else had ever noticed before.

I wish I could remember how many silver strands crept in over the course of my junior high and high school years,  but I don’t.  To be honest, I don’t think I gave it much thought. It was a part of who I was, who my mother was, and from pictures, my Nana as well.  It wasn’t until I reached 19 that I really started remembering the comments. “Oh my gosh, you’re so gray!”  “How old are you?”  “Oh wow, I thought you were 27.” ZING!!! That one stung.....because  you know 27 is very old!  That was the first moment when I knew I HAD to do something about it…..and FAST!

My first try at hair color was henna.  My friend Sally who was a hair stylist then, applied my first henna. It was dark! So much darker than my already dark brown hair, But it worked. The gray was gone for about 8 weeks. I wasn’t crazy about the henna but my friend  kept telling me that once I start with permanent color,  I would have to keep the roots up every 4-6 weeks. By 20 years old I was ready for the commitment and I have been at it for nearly 30 years. I actually LOVE hair color. It’s so fun!  I have been just about every shade and in between. Red, brown, wine, bleach blonde(that was a hair dresser's mistake) almost black( not a good look) high lights, low lights, and the ever so popular 90’s “stripe.” I actually loved that for the time it was in.  I was always blessed to  have a friend in the biz and even my husband Brian colored it every month at our kitchen sink for at least 4 years before the gray really started taking over. In 1999  my youngest sister Ruthie went to school and my hair was in her very capable hands for the next 12 years. Not to mention the very sweet super sissy la la discount she always gave me. Praise Jesus, hallelujah!   Never in all of these years would I ever have thought about growing out my “natural” color. It was always a no. Not just a “no” but a “NO!” Even a “Hell NO!” But now here I am and there is so much anxiety around this decision.

 I have been mulling this over in my head for a little while. I didn’t just wake up this morning and make this decision. I have counseled my rock star stylist and color extraordinaire Jesse Mangrum for the past two years.  She has always been amazing, supportive, encouraging, and has given me room to be ready.  She knows, this is big for me. I know it's only hair. I know there are some that may think I am making a big fuss over nothing, but I know there are others who know exactly the feelings I'm feeling about this.  I actually tried a few strands about two years ago. As expected, some people liked it, some didn’t, some people just looked at it and were trying to figure out what they were looking at, but it took only one comment for me to  text Jesse on the spot  for an emergency appointment to get it covered back up. “So Renee…what's going on with your hair?” OMG…I was in sixth grade all over again!  My face was stinging with embarrassment. I wasn’t ready.  Trust me there are deep reasons for this.( my sissy la la's know) I hope to have the courage to share those along the way. After 30 years of coloring my hair and loving it and now ditching it….. gives me great pause. I am very thankful to have some really awesome people in my life that have encouraged me in recent days to “Go for it!”  “You would rock it!” Man oh man, I admit, I need to hear this. So thank you Brian, Kyle, Blake, Zach, Jesse, Carole, Sarah, Laura and Lisa. You are all babes!   This may very well be my “year of the hat" because no one want's to see the crack that is already taking place on the top of my head after just 3 weeks. 2015 was already a big year for me. So many positive changes, so much recovery of my life. Perhaps that is why I want to give this a try. It may not be for me in the end, but my curiosity is high for what lies beneath and vulnerability is now the word of the day for me.

Are you a silver babe or do you know a silver babe? I would love to read your comments and share some thoughts on this subject.