Her cute blonde hairstyle caught my eye. I’m a sucker for short hair cuts. Hers got my attention along with her sweet smile. Every time her family filed into the front doors of our church, something drew me to her. But time did not afford a conversation. Not yet.
Weeks passed. Time and time again I would watch her family enter our doors. As lead greeter of our church, I see many families and kind faces every week. But her face lingered in my spirit.
One Sunday after the second service had filed out of the church, I left my post at the front door to go back inside. I looked around the lobby contemplating if I was needed anymore and what I would feed my family for lunch when I got home—a weekly predicament. Small pods of people lingered visiting. That’s when I spotted the woman with the cute hair cut. I felt a nudge to go tell her I liked her hair, so I did.
“I have to tell you,” I said as my hand extended to shake hers, “I love your hair cut!”
With a sheepish grin she thanked me and whispered, “I have to tell you…it’s a wig.”
My heart stopped for a moment. I knew what the rest of her story would be.
With a hopeful smile that never left her lips and a light in her eyes that never dimmed, she began to tell me the narrative of her four year battle with cancer. This time it was at stage 4. I was swept back into time as her story unfolded. The similarities between her battle and my sister, Christy’s, were uncanny. This was definitely a God arranged meeting. He wanted us to meet. And he knew what would be the catalyst for the conversation. Hair!
We talked about wigs—how convenient they are, how practical they can be. I told her stories of the wind blowing my sister’s blonde wig off as she led her elementary students back to the classroom after lunch one day. We both chuckled as we pictured wide-eyed fourth grade boys stopped in their tracks. Our conversation went back and forth between funny moments, harsh reality, and hope.
“Has anybody here pray for you?”
“Well, people have prayed, but I haven’t asked anyone here.”
“Can I pray for you?” I continued.
We stepped closer as we prepared to pray, I laid my hand on her shoulder and asked her the question that would become the final glue to bind my heart to hers, “What’s your name?”
“Christy” she replied.
By God’s grace, I held my composure, and I took the opportunity to offer my prayer for another blonde haired, blue eyed woman fighting this evil, menacing disease and much too young to die. I stood on every promise of God for her healing, and I prayed that He would extend this Christy’s life.
Now when she walks through the doors at Lifepoint I jump up and down and clap my hands. I hold my breath every time our church doors open, and I pray that I will see her again for many weeks, months, and years to come. On this side.
Have you had any divine connections lately? What does this story tell you about our God?
Praise the Lord oh my soul; all my inmost being, praise His holy name. Praise the Lord oh my soul, and forget not all His benefits—who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases…. (Psalm 103:1-3) I recommend reading the whole thing!
ps. please pray for my new friend!