Loved, Even with the Gray.

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In an effort to save some cash, though at the expense of my sanity some days, I dye my own hair at home.

For the most part, it isn’t a big deal.  Feria works for me, so I typically go with what I know. But not so much this time.

I finally got sick of the gray, so I picked a night to destroy those gray hairs!  There were two boxes of dye in my closet, but they were a different brand. I must have grabbed them on a deal somewhere and thought I’d give them a try.

Bad call.  My color was a lot darker than I thought, which I thought I could live with.   It was also a very flat color with no highlight or dimension to it.  Worse yet, the gray hairs weren’t even covered.  Right in the front, at the crown of my head, there was still pretty obvious gray.

What is the point of the dye if the gray isn’t covered?

I tried to let it go.

Which included mentioning it to my husband, and friends on the phone, and family and…well, clearly I was saying it enough for my oldest child to hear me.

That night, I was chatting with her before bedtime.  We were about to pray when she randomly informed me, “I can’t see your gray hairs.”

“Oh, they are right here, see?” I explained as I leaned forward.

“I don’t see them,”

I laughed.  “Well, then you must be blind.  But it isn’t a big deal.  I’ll live with the gray.  Let’s pray and then you can get some sleep.”

“Mom, maybe we can pray that everyone would see you how I see you and then they would know how wonderful you are.”

Repeat that as it settles in my brain:  “…then they would know how wonderful you are.”

BAM.  Like a Mack Truck it hit me just when I needed a refresher.

My kids see me as wonderful.

Not because I am the right size.  Or without gray hair.  Or the best chef.  Or the best at keeping anything around here organized for more than 10 minutes.  Or the best at any of the crazy ways I measure my own self.


I am the best.  I am wonderful.  Because I am their Mom.  And I love them.

Your kids love you because you are their mom.  Maybe you need that reminder too.  

Confession.  In that picture, you see my second attempt.  Yes, I did dye my hair again.  I just couldn’t stand it.  Even if my kids don’t care.



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