Did you know Sean Connery can sing? Not like Pavarotti, or Crosby, or Strait. But he can sing.
And his song reminds me of her…
My mother joined some ladies group at church and made a friend. She was the mother of two boys, very active, very fun, and red-headed.
As I mentioned in one of my earlier posts, being a redhead is no easy task. And, top that with being the ONLY redhead in a family of five and you’ve got one sad girl who hated her hair. I blamed it on everything. If I stubbed my toe, it was because I was a redhead. If I got in trouble, it was because I was a redhead. If we couldn’t afford a toy from the store, it was because I was a redhead.
And it didn’t help that my younger sisters got a lot of attention from strangers. People would gush over them, saying how cute they were, how sweet. And while they grinned and giggled, I pouted and blamed it on my red hair. Boy, was I self-centered!
But then, one day, I met her…
We will call her Grace. It is one of my favorite Irish names. It comes from the name Grianne, meaning love. Which is a perfect way to describe her…grace and love.
I attached myself to her first because she was a redhead, and I knew no other person with hair the same color as mine. Then, she became someone to talk to, someone to share my deeper worries with. I didn’t trust many with my feelings. I was too afraid others wouldn’t care and wouldn’t listen.
Even if you don’t know what to say, one should always listen when one is sharing one’s feelings.
And she was very good at that. And very good at making me feel special.
And she made being a redhead look beautiful. Effortless. She gave me hope that one day I would wake up, and not remember that I was redheaded, that I would be able to step outside of the abyss that made me hate the way I looked.
There is nothing worse than obsessing over your own issues. You cannot enjoy others. You realize you are putting yourself first, and why in the world would you do that? God did not put us on this earth to love and worry about ourselves.
But she gave me hope. And as I got older, she taught without a single word, that yes, I was a redhead. And yes, it defined me. But it did not control me. Or my fate. And I was beautiful because of it, and in spite of it.