My Fried Hair

I visited a new hairstylist recently, excited for a small trim to clean up the ends of my hair. Instead, I found myself crying in my car afterward. Not because I didn’t like my cut or she messed up my hair, but because I messed up my hair. Because I learned my hair was dead. Fried. Bad shape. Like those commercials showing a close up of a hair strand with all kinds of holes in it. (NOT like the picture above) To me, it was a reminder of the last two years my family has walked. It was a reminder that I had pushed myself so far down the list. It was a reminder that I didn’t take care of me.

I’ve been mulling over this post for weeks, unsure of how to put words to screen. But through a friend, God prompted me to share them with my voice.

This past Monday at Adore, our Women’s Ministry night of worship, I shared my word for the year, Restore, and what God has taught me in the first five months of this year. I always thought Restore would be God giving us back all the stuff we had missed out on, but God showed me that wasn’t what Restore meant. In fact, I’m learning it’s quite the opposite!

If you’ve ever walked through a crisis before, you know the battle isn’t over once the crisis is “done.” There’s still a long way to go.

Watch the video:


Or listen to the audio:

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