haircut

I was helping with the preschool before-care program last week when one of our kids came in sporting a new haircut. His teacher commented on how nice he looked, and all the other kids agreed that it was a most excellent haircut. A couple of the kids suggested it was about time for them to get haircuts too.

I looked at one of them and said, “Do you think I need to get a haircut too?” She laughed and said, “Don’t be silly, Pastor Bart, you don’t have any hair to cut!” I laughed too, but inside I was thinking, “Smart-Alec kid.”

I do still go to the barbershop, but these days it’s mostly to get my eyebrows and ear hair trimmed. When they ask how I want my hair cut I usually say, “Just a little off the top,” and they look confused, not knowing if I’m joking, or need to be institutionalized.

Hard as it may be to believe, I used to have plenty of hair. There was a time when it was so thick I could barely get a comb through it. It was thick and curly and not at all the “cool,” straight hair that was popular in the 1970’s. I always wished I could have straight hair, until it started falling out when I was in college. Now I figure any hair is better than none at all.

When I was little, my mom would take me to a barbershop in Springfield. So, when I came home from college one summer and needed a haircut, that’s where I went. A man that I did not recognize called me to his chair and started cutting. After a while I heard him say, “You know, Bart, I remember when you were little, and your mother brought you in. Your hair was so soft and wavy and thick.” I didn’t realize it when I sat down, but this guy had been cutting my hair all my life. I didn’t know him, but he knew me, and called me by name.

I no longer remember that barber’s name, and I’m sure he has since passed away. I have transitioned to a barbershop closer to home and have not been to the one in Springfield for over 40 years. But as I hear of preschooler’s haircuts, I’m reminded of a day long ago when I wandered into a semi-familiar place and was served by a man who remembered me before I was old enough to remember anything.

In Jeremiah 5:1, the Lord tells the prophet, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart.” Like a barber from long ago, the Lord knows me and calls me by name. In a world that is chaotic and changing, I am comforted by that fact.