Emmy Lou and Me

At 15, I had thick, dark brown hair with streaks of reddish brown. Not exactly auburn - that would have been lovely, but no such luck. Still, people did ask if I died it. I didn't. Then at 18, I noticed random white strands. Egads! The Stevens' curse of premature white hair! Thanks, Mom. One day I pulled out exactly 100 strands, and that hurt. But what hurt more was that it made not one iota of difference. There were hundreds still there, so I quit.

Years went by, and I grew my hair long. It was so thick that it sometimes gave me a headache with its weight, but still, it grew. So did the white. One day, still in my mid-twenties, I got on an elevator and a man got on behind me. I began to feel nervous, standing in the closed in silence, my back to him. I could feel his eyes on me. Then he quietly said, "Miss, is that natural? You are so young to have so much white hair." "Yes," I said. As he exited (to my great relief) he said, "Well, it's beautiful." At least he didn't think I looked like a skunk.

I hit forty, and the mane of white and brown continued to grow whiter. Entire sections never did turn though, and it looked like I'd planned it that way. Someone at church asked where I got my hair "frosted." "God does it," I answered. I had nothing to do with it.

More years passed, and the white began to overtake the brown in quantity. In the freezer aisle at the grocery store one day, a man approached, "I'm sorry to intrude, but you have beautiful hair. You're so young to have that color, white and brown together. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?" "No thank you. I'm married, but it was kind of you to ask," I said.

One day at work a man approached. "Are you Irish?" "Well, yes, I do have some Irish blood, I responded. "Why?" Well, you're too young for white hair, and the Irish have hair that turns white early, but not completely. I thought you might be Irish, with your white and reddish brown hair." I turned him down for coffee, too. Why do men like white hair so much? I wondered. And...why do women think they have to dye it!?

Now that I'm sixty, white hair is normal. But most people's hair is one of three things: the original natural, out of a bottle, or white. But me? I have old lady white hair, and I have girlish brown hair, both natural. When I pin it up, it appears fairly dark from behind, white from the front. And all I do is wash it. To be honest, I rarely even comb it; it's too curly and wild. Then other days, it's nearly straight as can be.

I've never really known what to do with my hair. In the Bible, white hair is called, "a crown of glory." When I was bald from chemo, I missed my crown. On "feeling ugly" days, I put on a hat or pin it up. Some days I know people look at it, with it's unusual color. But my hair is not me. It's just something God gave me to help me feel secure out in the world.

Many years ago someone told me that I reminded her of Emmy Lou Harris. We were both young then and I was thrilled at the thought of even coming close to her beauty. When she stopped dying her own hair, her true beauty was revealed. She is stunning now in her "crown of glory." I'll happily stay in this place, wearing the crown God gave me.