If you’re anything like me, then you can probably remember the first time you ever had some serious hair envy. When I was a little girl, my first long haired idol, was my older sister, Becky. I can still remember wearing towels on my head. Dreaming of the day when I could boast the same flowing, silky, Farah Fawcett hair that she did. Instead I rocked my little fro, that my mom “swore” was all the rage. Being mistaken for a boy and sitting thru painful comb outs. I cried for my towel.
Cut to adulthood and some regrettable hairstyles on both our ends. My sister continued to rock long and gorgeous hair. My envy turning to adoration for the big sister I love.
November of 2016, my sister was diagnosed with breast cancer, after a routine mammogram found a lump in her left breast. She was forty three years old. Becky would need a mastectomy and chemotherapy. I know it’s superficial, but I couldn’t help thinking about her beautiful hair.
In February, 10 days after Becky’s first round of chemo, I left my husband and three kids in Virginia and made the 4 hour drive to Kentucky to be with her and her family…to be with her. It was one of the best weekends of my life. Don’t get me wrong it was tough and exhausting. It hurt to see my sister living with cancer. This was no girl’s weekend away in Las Vegas or Palm springs. But it was precious and important. It cemented an already strong bond I have with Becky. The kind of bond only sisters can share and suffering can bring.
“Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy.” -Psalm 126:5
The morning I arrived, I was greeted with coffee brewing and chocolate croissants baking. Becky is always five steps ahead. Caring for others, her home is the kind of place you love to visit and never really want to leave. She had cut her hair into a cute little bob, anticipating the hair loss. I was surprised to see a full head of beautiful hair and became hopeful it wouldn’t fall out after all.
Unfortunately, when my sister showered that morning, her hair began to fall out in clumps. This was incredibly traumatic and made the cancer visibly obvious. We planted in tears. When I decided to have my brother-in-law shave my head in solidarity (and he gave me a “Storm from the X-men Mohawk”, before taking it all) we harvested shouts of joy. My sister looking in the mirror, starring at her bald white head, her disease looking back at her… planted tears. Driving to Jerome’s Beauty Boutique in Lexington, trying on some fabulous wigs that had us looking like Beyoncé… shouts of joy! Going to dinner with friends that night, facing them for the first time with no hair. Tears. Wrapping Becky’s head up in a beautiful scarf from our incredibly stylish sister-in-law, Michelle. Joy! That whole weekend God restored us in our sorrow. In our grief he gave us joy. No matter how silly or insignificant. It was real delight and we found ourselves rejoicing.
So what does it mean that those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy?
I absolutely LOVE what John Piper has to say:
“So here’s the lesson: When there are simple, straightforward jobs to be done, and you are full of sadness, and tears are flowingly easily, go ahead and do the jobs with tears. Be realistic. Say to your tears: ‘Tears, I feel you. You make me want to quit life. But there is a field to be sown (dishes to be washed, car to be fixed, sermon to written.) I know you will wet my face several times today, but I have work to do and you will just have to go with me. I intend to take the bags of seed and sow. If you come along then you will just have to wet the rows.”
Life comes fast and hard for all of us. So let it.
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