Yesterday I spent five hours at the hair salon. It’s like an unwritten rule in my culture that you just need to get comfortable at the hair salon or barber shop because you’re going to be there for a while. I have always struggled to embrace this part of my culture because I just want to get in and get out; however, as I’ve gotten a bit wiser over time, I’ve realized that sitting for a spell isn’t really an inconvenience.
We need that white space — that time to just be — that time to just sit, listen, and sometimes learn a thing or two without feelings of guilt that you should be doing something. We need to find a way to free our minds from that sort of guilt. The weight of it is just too heavy.
So every time I go, I’m greeted in French, Afrikaans, and Spanish. The owner of the shop is from Togo, my stylist is from Namibia, and another stylist is from Mexico. They welcome me like Norm from Cheers. It’s actually a pretty cool gesture. Well, as I tease my stylist about how long it takes her to do my hair, everyone chuckles, and they join in the fun. I told them that I told my husband to fend for himself at supper time because I would probably be in the shop for 17 hours (at which point everyone laughed). I went on to say that I asked him to lay out my clothes for church because I’d only have time to take a birdbath at the salon, rush home, and slip into my church clothes the next morning. Again, the shop erupted into laughter.
My stylist (Venaje) was also giggling because she knows she’s slow, but her work is always beautiful. She said that my constant ribbing motivates her, so “Bring it on, Ms. Michelle.” We sat in silence for a little while as other clients came and left. Still more clients came and went, and Venaje still was working diligently.
Sometime around 3:00 PM– 2 1/2 hours into my visit, a man walked in and greeted everyone. Everyone in the shop knows him as Wayne. He staggered uncomfortably close to Venaje and me. To say that he was drunk is an understatement, but there was something about his eyes. I saw hope. He had come in for a haircut. Venaje cuts his hair free of charge each week when she isn’t too busy. I watched how gentle she was with him and how the months of these interactions had grown into a friendship of sorts. I learned that he was 55 years old, though the stress of his life had tacked on another 10 – 15 years. He left after a few minutes because he realized she didn’t have time today. He wished us well and disappeared into the crowd of shoppers going to nearby stores.
About 30 minutes later, Wayne returned with a friend named Gregory. He introduced us as his friends. We talked for a bit until Gregory found a way to ask Venaje if she would cut his hair from time to time. They were so child-like in their interactions with us until Gregory said, “Oh, I’m sorry, ladies.” He promptly removed his hat as though conditioned to do it when entering a room. Removing his cover revealed a clean cut. I complemented him on his haircut, and that’s when the magic happened. He told me that he was in the Marine Corp many years ago. I said, “Semper Fi!” He responded with “Always faithful.” I shared that my husband also served in the Marine Corp. That’s when I saw something in his eyes as well — hope. We talked for 30 minutes or so about my brief time in the Air Force, SR71s, F117As, Thunderbirds, and Blue Angels. It felt as though we had known each other for years. Before they left, we told them to take care of themselves and each other.
A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity. ~ Proverbs 17:17
I said, “It was nice to meet you, Gregory and Wayne.” Gregory turned around abruptly and asked, “Who is Wayne?” I chuckled and said, “Your buddy.” He looked confused and then shared, “Man, I never knew your name was Wayne. I just knew you as Smurf.” Again, the shop erupted in laughter. These two have been living in a tent city in my community for years. They go to a local soup kitchen for meals twice a day, and not once did they learn each other’s full names. I guess names aren’t that important sometimes — it’s the other stuff — like being a friend, a brother, and a source of hope. I learned today that Philadelphia isn’t the only City of Brotherly Love. My small town in Maryland is as well.
This is such a beautiful account of how we can get comfortable, truly comfortable, about just BEing. What a gift, to learn laugh and learn a name. Thank you for finding inspiration in the little things and sharing it with your readers.
Thanks for taking the time to read and give feedback, Barbara. We are so busy in our lives as educators. At times we just need to chill out and just BE.
The theme of my life. This keeps coming up and it reminded me of what the Lord told me about about two months ago: sit first so you can serve better. It’s in our “being” (Mary first), that we learn what we are supposed to be doing (then Martha). What a beautiful story of two men who obviously knew each other much more intimately as friends where the name wasn’t important.
I love this, Michelle! So much to think about in one post…white space, quiet, awareness of others, and maybe being a spark to ignite the hope for someone else. Thanks for sharing.
Karen, thanks for taking the time to read and to give me feedback. We really do need to slow down and just BE.
It was the coolest experience. It showed the beauty of the human spirit. You can have so little and still have so much love.
What a nice reminder of what is truly important in life. Thanks Michelle! Wonderful writing 🙂
Thanks so much, Lisa. I wish you could’ve seen my smile when I noticed that YOU (as busy as you are) had taken the time to read my post and offer me feedback. Take care, Lisa.
Gave me chills;) That humanness is beautiful. Thanks for sharing that.
Thanks for the feedback! I can hardly wait to read more of your stuff.
It’s such a brotherly post, I love it. I have to agree as well that there has to be sometime for ourselves that’s guilt free, a time we just spend doing nothing but enjoying the moment. 🙂
Smurf… It’s wonderful how people would relate closely without knowing their names. Real Friendship is Gold. 🙂
It was the sweetest thing. I didn’t even mention race because it didn’t matter to them, and I didn’t really notice until retelling the story.
May God help us all to build great friendship
I often wonder why slowing down is so hard when God rewards us so richly for doing it. I enjoyed your story, how you bring the warm, welcoming atmosphere to life.
Thanks so much, Roo. I really enjoy your work as well.