Amazing Grace

This afternoon a persistent little pang told me I was hungry. Heart hungry. I knew just what would satisfy it, too. I called Grace.

We talked for a while about various subjects. Then, after a momentary silence, she said, “I need to tell you something.”

* * *

Time for some backstory. (I’ve been doing that a lot lately, haven’t I?) Grace, our only daughter, was born gorgeous. Sure, I’m prejudiced. But facts are facts. I was smitten from the moment the nurses laid her in my arms. She had pink rosebud lips, the cutest dollop of a nose, huge blue eyes, and a head full of tawny curls. From birth she was pure femininity in looks, if not in behavior. (I blame George for her fondness for dirt and bugs, but that’s another story.)

Rapunzel must’ve been lurking somewhere back there on the family tree. By two, Grace’s golden locks had grown past her shoulders, and by four she had thick, waist-length hair. I’d trim the ends, but all her life, a crown of unbelievably thick, wavy hair personified her. It was practically her trademark.

* * *

“Okay. What is it?” I asked.

“I shaved my head.” (Yes, Luke. Of course I thought of you. So, this runs in the family. Maybe Yule Brenner was on the tree, too.)

Silence. “You shaved it? As in bald?”

“Well, I didn’t do it. My roommates did. They cut it with electric clippers set on #4. You can’t see my scalp or anything. But, yeah. I shaved it. I gave all the hair to Locks of Love.”

Her cut hair made four thick braids: two fourteen inches long, and two sixteen inches long. I knew she’d been thinking about doing this for more than a year. She said she can’t believe how much she’s learning — about how she relied on her looks for security, how uncomfortable it is to notice strangers staring at you in public like you’re abnormal, how supportive people have been. It wasn’t an impulsive decision. She talked to trusted friends and searched her motives. Was she doing this to make a sensation? Was it a selfish attempt to appear unselfish? After weighing it all, she decided that now, if ever, was the time. Once she’s out of college and working, the opportunity might be gone.

She’s going to e-mail some pictures. Apparently the general consensus from both males and females is that she looks adorable and that she can totally pull this off. Girl friends gush. One guy friend saw her, gasped, grabbed her and kissed her on the head. She’s been shocked at the sincere compliments. I don’t suppose I’m too surprised. She still has the rosebud lips, the dollop of a nose that turns up ever so slightly as though a benevolent fairy touched the very tip with her magic wand, and the big, summer-sky-blue eyes.

Some kids go off to college and rebel. Others go off and grow up. I guess the important thing is remembering that growing up doesn’t always look the same on everyone. For Grace, for a season, it looks like a cropped head crowned only with a deeper understanding of compassion.

How do I feel? My heart is satisfied.