Sunday, August 7, 2011
The worst haircut I ever received was a $7 special at a local salon. I was in my thirties and my hair was thick and curly, the kind of hair that could hide a multitude of styling sins—but not after the $7 special. It was short in back and uneven in front, with tufts sticking out in random places. I looked like I had mange.
No one at church said a word until Linda, a dear woman in the choir, came up to me after worship. Lifting a misshapen curl from my face, she said kindly, "You need to see Nan." Nan was Linda's hairdresser, a magician with sheers who fixed my bad haircut and then styled my hair for the next eight years. Before I met Nan, I didn't know what a difference a good stylist could make. I became a convert, a true believer, and I recommended Nan to many other people. To this day, I'm grateful to Linda for her hairdressing evangelism.
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