Call His Name...

Black is not the new pink. And 40 is not the new 30. Black is still black and 40 is still 40 (or 43 in my case). What brings up my deep thinking today, you might ask? Or not, but I’m going to share anyway. I got my haircut. A lot. 6 inches or so off plus layers and bangs. And I have been asked some very challenging questions about this. What made me decide to cut my hair? Do I miss it? Did I do it to look younger? (Because I have heard that I do, 10 years. Which makes me 33 instead of 43.) Am I hiding my forehead? (Yep, that one made me laugh too.) Honest answer is that I wanted to. And I like it…except I’m afraid I might now look like a soccer (volleyball) mom.
I didn’t think that till today. But I’m kind of dressed in the sports mom uniform. Jeans. Tennis shoes. Fleece pullover. But it is casual day. I’m usually dressed up. Or in running clothes.
I was surprised that a haircut got this much attention. This haircust has nothing to do with how I behave or how I feel. In fact, I don't know the difference except when I fix it or walk by a mirror. Or when I'm running, my pony tail/bun was pretty heavy. My bun bobbled around on my head and my sweaty pony tail whipped around and slapped my face.

All this drove home a point I continue to reiterate to myself right now. Just as I am not what my hair looks like (ten years younger) or what clothes I wear (soccer mom), I also am not who people say I am. I am who God says I am. I am reminding Steve of this also, as he is going through some rough times. Sometimes life beats us down. People beat us down. And we keep our chins up and power on. But sometimes life and people find just the right combination of words and actions to really get us where it hurts most. Make you question everything about yourself. It’s even worse when you know it’s purposed to hurt you. Once they get you down they start kicking you. This is when we remember we are who God says we are. Chosen, forgiven, redeemed, gifted, fearfully and wonderfully and PURPOSEFULLY made. In His image. And we are loved. LOVED! I can’t say that enough. We are loved.
This Christmas season there has only been one time I've been moved to tears. This is very unusual for me because I cry easy. It was not a Folgers commercial or a lifetime movie (Steve is addicted to them). It was not even tears of joy that a new Tom Clancy novel was released earlier this month. 950 pages of nirvana for this Clancy geek.
I was reading the Christmas story and it was the phrase "he will be called Jesus". Not the idea of him being named Jesus, the idea that we can “call Jesus” and when we call Jesus we are immediately in his presence. He’s as close as the mention of his name. He's there, waiting for us, wanting us to call on him. Luke 2:21 "his name was called JESUS, which was so named of the angel before he was conceived in the womb."