Impulse

So I have a story. A very short one. I was hanging out with a girl-friend, Becky, and we were talking about all the things that God is doing in our lives... and... pretty much... it's just crazy these days. God is still here with me, but it's crazy. On my part, it seems like I have to make all these radical decisions that are REALLY pushing my boundaries and my faith (like this dance school thing). I go between being really over-hyper excited about it, to being terrified out of my guts over it. Hmmm... some real struggles there.

ANYWAY, getting to the fun point, because the point of this blog is kind of funny... Becky and I, after much talking about our mutual frustrations and unclear directions from God, walked into London Drugs so she could get a few things. Now, I was feeling crazy and a bit impulsive. We were just there to window shop, though she did have something to get there. We wandered around, and meandered into the hair section. Into the hair-dye section. I looked at all the rich colours (I'm an artist, I appreciate these things), and I thought of how I have always wanted to try dyeing my hair, but was always afraid to do it... just because I didn't want to give up my 'natural' status with being blonde... a colour I love also.

Then I thought, I'm always held back by SO many things in fear, little or big, and I'm tired of that. I feel impulsive. I feel crazy. I grabbed a package of warm caramel-chocolate coloured dye and said to Becky, "I'm going to do it. I'm going to dye my hair brown."

Becky looked at me and said, "Do it."
I said, "I'm going to. Am I? No... I'm going to."

So. I bought the hair dye. We go home to her house. I pull it out of the bag in front of Dave, expecting a puppy-voice saying, "Don't do it!" But instead, he says to me, "cool."

So I got ready. I opened the package. I started reading the instructions. I started getting out the bottles of various things. But the hair dye was missing. Silly. Is that a sign, God? No way. I'm all prepped to do it. Becky and I drive back to London Drugs. We go in. The two employees there look at me and say, "maybe it's a sign... maybe you're not supposed to do it," and the other one says, "are you CRAZY?" I get a wierd sneer from her, obviously thought it was awful to colour pure-blonde hair. Yeah, yeah, yeah... I've got that all my life. It's time for a change. I'm doing it.

WE bring the hair-dye home. We both conclude that God doesn't mind what my hair colour is. This is just fun. We put it in my hair... "No more virgin hair!" Becky says gleefully as she's rubbing it in. Actually, she's a bit of a hair-dye junkie... but in no way was this her influence on me. Nope, it was all my crazy idea.

So.... that's the story. I loved my new hair that night, woke up, shock hit, and I mourned my blonde hair for a good hour. Then I got over it, because, what the heck? It doesn't look half-bad, and... it's only hair. Hair that's signifying the huge changes that God is doing in me.

It emboldened me. It made me give up a secret status I thought I had. Bah! No more. I like it.



So next on the list is ear-piercing. I'll have to grab a friend to hold my hand, but I'm going to do it.