I had a dear friend remind me recently just how much we have to be thankful for. She put it plain and simple, and it really hit home for me. She said “I am just grateful to God for waking me up each day.” I don’t know about you, but my first thoughts when I wake up in the morning go something like this… “Oh no, it is morning already, ugh…” What would happen if I changed that thought pattern to this? “Thank you God for waking me up today, and for giving me life.” I’m sure spilled Cheerieos would make me much less grumpy if I started my day out with those words.
I truly do have so much to be thankful for. I am MOST grateful for my Creator, who has given me everything by sending His Son Jesus to die, so that I might live. Oh, to keep that thought in the forefront of my mind everyday! No matter what happens here on this earth, because of Jesus, we have Hope for all of eternity!
I am a cosmetologist, but I have not done hair in a salon for years now. I do keep my skills up by doing the hair of family and friends, it brings in a little extra income, and is much fun!
Changing hairstyles just comes with the territory when you are a hair stylist. I don’t think I have stuck with the same do’ or color for more than a few months. There are just so many to choose from, by the time I get my hair grown out, I find a short style I like, so out come the shears and… CHOP! After I go short, growing it is a fun process because it takes me through the different lengths and I get to experiment along the way.
So at the risk of coming across as very self absorbed, I thought it would be fun to post pictures of the different do’s I have done. I just started taking purposeful pics of my different styles/colors the past few years, just for fun, and to remember the styles I have worn. Oh, how I wish I would have taken more pics through the years of my adolescence and of cosmetology school days. Boy, would that give us all a good laugh! I loved that Rave hairspray, it is amazing how high I got my bangs with that stuff!
Right now, I am collar bone length, and I am my natural color (the last picture is very recent) which is kind of nice since I almost forgot what it looked like. I figured I would experience it for awhile, before I start getting those gray’s and feel like covering them up! I am about to turn 34, and have not seen a gray hair…yet.
The song below expresses my heart.
It begs God to give us His eyes for the lost, poor, and broken. God has allowed me to see, now I must check myself and ask if it HIS eyes I am choosing to look through. Too often, I look through my own eyes, and start lose grasp of hope.
Many broken hearted and hurting people have cross my path. Unbelievably strong people, who have experienced much pain and turmoil, with very little hope that their circumstances will change here on this earth. I see people I know who care so deeply that it hurts, as they have no choice but to watch someone they love deconstruct, making poor choice after poor choice. I see people in poor health, being told to see a specialist by their doctor, but don’t because they can’t afford to, and walk away with fear in their eyes, wondering about the results of tests that will never be taken. I see mental illness wreak havoc on precious brains, taking them on terrifying highs and lows. I see a mom, who’s heart breaks as she visits her son in jail, and soars as she welcomes him home, full of a love that is beautiful, complete. I see a grandmother, fighting the system for 9 years, to save her grandchildren from a father who has done the unimaginable. I see her taking them in as her own, worn out from work, pressing on in school to finish a degree, all the while in physical pain due to chronic illness. I see a woman who is demoralized as her husband continues to betray her, sitting in front of a computer, choosing to find fulfillment in something that never fulfills, but destroys. I see young girls being sold, their purity ripped from them day after day as they experience a hell called brothel.
Every one of these people have a name, a name that I have the privilege to know. These are ones who are, as the song says, “broken-hearted, ones that are far beyond my reach.”
True…BUT, they are not beyond HIS reach, the reach of my HEAVENLY FATHER.
I think too often as Christians, we expect perfection from each other, and even from ourselves. This way of thinking sets one up for extreme failure and a life that is not authentic. We are all in a state of growth. We as Christians are pilgrims on a journey of walking with the One whom we love, and want to be like. We stumble. We often fall flat. When we do, the Perfected One, Jesus, is right along side us, waiting to hear from us that we need His help, reaching out His hand to help us up, and reaching out His other hand offering grace and forgiveness. We will not be perfect until we get to Heaven, yet, when we accept His hand of grace and forgiveness, He makes us whole, pure, blameless. What a concept!
How beautiful would it be if we chose to see each other in that light? To see each other in the process of being perfected, continuously being made new. To see each other as ones whom the God of the Universe thinks the world of, so much so that He came to our world to make a way for us to become like Him, so we could spend eternity with Him when we leave. I think we would be much more prone to forgive, to bear each others burdens, to say the words “I’m sorry,” to speak the truth gently in love, to look at ourselves instead of pointing a finger, to just love one another because we are all on our own pilgrimage, walking this treacherous path of life. What if we trusted Jesus with the ones we loved, trusted Him to continue the good work He has started, trusted Him to change their hearts and to reveal to them how He wants them to walk? What if we kept our eyes on our own path, making sure we are walking it with our hands clasped to the One who leads? How many times are we walking along, but let go of His hand to point with a finger of accusation at another pilgrim? We let go, distracted by someone else’s journey and our own pride, and stumble. Or we let go, and cause another to fall, sometimes on purpose because they may have pushed you in the past and caused pain. How many times do we just simply turn to our Friend of power who is holding our hand and ask Him to help our fellow pilgrims? He’s right there, next to us, waiting for us to simply ask, to simply pray. Instead, we pridefully think our limited brains know better, so we let go to point out those who are stumbling, all the while not realizing we are up to our chins in muck ourselves.
Why do we expect perfection from each other and from ourselves? How can we not offer forgiveness to one another or accept the forgiveness He offers us? How dare we think less of each other, when this amazing God has reached out His hand to each one of us, no matter who we are, what we have done, how much money we make, what color our skin is, no matter how far we have fallen. We are ALL made by Him, and He is reaching out to each one of us offering Himself, offering an eternity of TRUE perfection with Him, at the end of this journey.
Here is part of an email that I received from Doug that tells more about why prayer is the key element in making a difference:
Now can you see why it is such a special gift? Truly priceless. What a privilege it is to lift one of these precious girls up in prayer, and to know I am praying with other prayer warriors from all over the world. I marvel that a $10 gift can not only rescue a girl from a horrid life that I can’t even imagine, but will also most likely, save her life, and give her an opportunity for rehabilitation.
Nepali girls are most often tricked by traffickers offering high paying good jobs in India. Often traffickers will also “marry” the girls in order to traffic them, and then abandon them in a brothel. The trafficker will collect a fee from the madame in a brothel, and then the madame will tell the girl that she has been “sold” and she must pay back the price spent to traffic her before she is free. In most cases, this takes many years, and by the time the girl is allowed to leave the brothel, her youth and innocence have been spent, and she may have HIV.
“The Day My God Died”
The film provides actual footage from the brothels of Bombay, known even to tourists as “The Cages,” captured with “spy camera” technology. It weaves the stories of girls, and their stolen hopes and dreams, into an unforgettable examination of the growing plague of child sex slavery.
Read more about what Tiny Hands International is doing in this fight against Human Trafficking: