Ringlet Memories

"As each one has received a special gift, employ it in serving one another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. Whoever speaks, let him speak, as it were, the utterances of God; whoever serves, let him do so as by the strength which God supplies; so that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belongs the glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen."

~1 Peter 4:10-11

As a dancer you are called to do many different hairstyles. From messy bun, to french braid, to half-back, curly, to straight, tight, to loos. You name it I have probably done it. The most recent one I have been called to do is curly, pulled half back. Last night as my dear, sweet, mother rolled my hair in sponge rollers to accomplish this hairstyle, my mind began to wander to past memories. 

You see when I was little I had naturally curly hair, little ringlets were everywhere. Now at age fifteen I also have curly hair, but there was a time when I didn't. Between the ages of five and thirteen, my hair was not curly at all, it had plenty of spastic puffiness (Especially from ten through thirteen!), but no curl! 

Let me give you a visual.

Before (I am in the purple)

Awkward

Now

 

I loved my hair when I was little and when I lost my curl I was quite disappointed, but I wasn't the only one. I have many fond memories of  sitting on my parents bed on Saturday night and getting my hair rolled in sponge rollers for church the next morning. Literally we did that every Saturday for as long as I could remember, probably for about four-six years. We were so consistent that people thought I had naturally curly hair at that time, and when they saw me during the week, they were shocked! I loved it though, quite honestly I did. And as mom was rolling my hair last night it brought back these sweet memories, but I must confess it brought back another feeling as well...

I loved it when mom would take out the curlers in my hair on Sunday morning and these little ringlets would frame my face, it was one of my favorite parts, but then she would proceed to do something dreadful. She would take her fingers and run them through ALL of my ringlets, until all I had was, in my mind, a head of immense swirl, not curl. In my mind this is what had happened.

In reality that is not what happened, I know because I have pictures to prove it, but this is how I felt. What I really looked like was something more like this.

It is not nearly as awful as I believed it to be, but that was my confession. I loved it then, and I love it now. I appreciate so much every curl that was broken and every hand that was cramping in order for me to walk into church with a head full of pretty little curls. I appreciate my mother who did it endlessly every Saturday night, despite how late the hours may have been. Little did she know at the time what fond memories she was making with me. Little did she know what an amazing role model she was being to me. She was being a servant, and she was taking the time to care for me. That may be what mothers are for, but she was being completely selfless, and totally loving! I am thankful that I have her example to follow, even if I am still slightly partial to the ringlets. :)