My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. - John 10:27-28
Literally five minutes ago, I was in my bathroom in front of the mirror in a state of euphoria. After repeated failed attempts, that stiff, rather pesky chin hair peeking out from the pore of my skin was plucked with my tried-and-true tweezers. Victory!
Unfortunately, this chin hair and I have a rather tumultuous history. Thinking back, I would have to say it all began with puberty. At my mother's urging, I went to see an electrologist while visiting her one summer. "Your facial hair comes from your Portuguese ancestry," I can remember her saying, "You'll thank me one day." Not knowing what to expect and not having a choice, I went and met the nicest woman with not one discernible trace of facial hair. She placed a cool cloth over my eyes followed by goggles and then turned on what sounded like a bug zapper followed by words of reassurance, "This might sting a bit."
Aaaaaah! My hands clenched into fists, and my toes curled. When she asked if I was all right, I didn't know what else to say but, "Uh huh." I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Imagine a needle being placed into each of your pores which shoots a burst of heat and then someone pulling each of your hairs with a tweezer. Well, I didn't imagine it; I only just lived to tell about it. The pain was excruciating and as a teen, I'm positive I barely survived. The ice cube being rubbed over my chin after the procedure didn't do a whole lot except intensify the redness of my skin and prolong my agony. Embarrassed beyond belief, I walked out of the electrologist's office looking away from patients in the waiting room hoping no one would see me.
Nonetheless, what I believed to be the end of any chin hair battle turned out to be mere foreshadowing . . . enter pregnancy. My chin hair and I were reunited in what now appears to be everlasting llllllllllloathing. This chin hair is determined to see the light of day while I remain consistent in quashing her dreams. My plan of defense these days is Old Faithful, my tweezers.
Tonight after revelling in my triumph, the term pluck truly stuck in my thoughts and reminded me of the above Bible verses, John 10:27-28. It's amazing how God is always there and may even sneak up on us when we least expect it . . . even when plucking that pesky hair. What's comforting, though, is the ideal that my faith protects me from being metaphorically plucked from God's proverbial chin. Amen!