By Hannah

I could see Ray sliding past me out of the corner of my eye. That she was guilty of something was clear as day. What exactly, I was less sure of. We were in the middle of quiet time and I couldn’t imagine what she was trying to hide from me. She crab walked towards the kitchen, staring straight at me while proceeding slowly as if to be invisible. She wasn’t invisible and she was obviously hiding something behind her back.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing. Throwing something away.”

“Oh? What needs to be thrown away?”

“Just a thing. That’s trash. And needs to be thrown away.”

Throughout this short conversation her movement was ever towards the trash can. Of course I had her show me what was in her hand. Of course I was dismayed. There in her palm was a ball of her beautiful chocolate brown hair. I had left her partially unattended with a pair of plastic scissors, cutting away at her school worksheet. She’s an excellent cutter and loves doing it. She will cut for an hour straight hardly changing positions. I often let her cut next to me during quiet time to keep her occupied. This time I was absorbed in work and didn’t notice when she got bored. Didn’t notice when her four-year-old mind told her four-year-old hands to cut her four-year-old hair.

Many times prior to this incident we discussed what she could and couldn’t cut. She knew the rules, and through her tears communicated quite well that she had no idea why she had done it. I believed her. She just did it.

Perhaps on another day I would be more exacting. Did I talk through obedience, honesty, and trust? Yes, I did. Did she face consequences for her decision? Yes, she did. But none of it came with the same fervor of righteousness I sometimes yield when talking of sin to the girls. She’s four. She fully acted like a four-year-old and I did not fully act like the parent of a four-year-old by becoming complacent with the scissors. More than that, the utter confusion she was externally wrestling with trying to figure out the “why” hit me. She had no idea what possessed her to do it, just as I retroactively have no idea why I sometimes make poor decisions to allow a sin to dominate in my own life. I regret it, I ask for forgiveness, I try to change, but then I do it again.

It is so easy to forget our own darkness. To forget that as we go through sanctification, we’re actually spiritual four-year-olds walking through life with a pair of plastic scissors knowing the rules, knowing the consequences, and still choosing to cut our hair. Our Father is exacting, but full of mercy, and in that moment I desperately wanted to be that perfect balance for Ray. 

Her haircut is barely noticeable. A stray chunk falls out of her ponytail and her bangs are a bit wonky, but that’s the worst of it. Several stuffed animals were included in the salon day, but none all that worse for the wear. This event has spurred me on to be a better parent. A parent who allows their child to make mistakes, to learn from those mistakes by enduring the consequences, to love them through, and to pray each moment draws them closer to a recognition of their own need for the blood of Christ.

Hannah is wife of the Branch Director, Brian, and spends her time caring for and homeschooling their two daughters, Ray and Willa.