Friends

As Easter approached, I was reminded of how I met a special friend. It began with my hair. I have curly red hair that tends to get a bit wild.

It's gotten me in and out of some strange situations. When I was a teenager, I used to iron it. In the early 1960's, curly hair was not "in." We all strained to look like Cher not Raggedy Ann. It has long been the bane of my existence.

In 1991, my husband's job moved us to upstate New York. Six weeks after moving in, it began to snow. After a couple of months of being nearly housebound, and not knowing anyone, I was starved for a friend. I decided to pray for one.

Nothing happened until late January.

There weren't a lot of strong evangelical churches where we lived, and I'd searched long and hard for a church home, hoping there I might also find a friend. I'd been visiting one particular church for about four weeks.

That Sunday, I was running late, and my hair was behaving like – well, let’s just say I'd have given Jezebel a run for her money that day. I sat alone in the back of the church. As usual, I asked God for a friend.

In the bulletin that morning, I read they were going to have an Easter play, and people were being asked to get involved. Since I'd always loved drama, I'd decided to look into it. Maybe get involved like they asked.

After the church service, a tall blonde approached me. She looked slightly embarrassed, hemmed and hawed a couple of times but finally blurted out, "Would you be willing to play a prostitute in our Easter play?"

It was the hair. Jezebel had nothing on me.

I laughed, figuring anyone who had the nerve to approach a stranger and ask that kind of question was my kind of people. We became the best of buddies.

Funny, how God answers prayer. My hair, once my nemesis, had led me to a friend.