Why I Dread

I started dreadlocks eight months ago when Steven died, and then Plain Ol' Grammy died.  The world turned upside down.  Grief besieged me.  Two lives ended, and nothing was good, or right, or beautiful.

My hair became an outward symbol of the tangled mess living ... and dieing ... are.  My hair became a sloppy-looking hope, that someday this mess will be manageable, live-able, maybe even sort of lovely.  It is a daily reminder for me that there's not always a "cure" for the mess.  Sometimes you just have to ride the fuzzy mess with your eyes closed and try to keep your feet under you.  And sometimes the mess will surprise you, and you will feel loved and beautiful despite the mess, and really know that this sort of love is best:  the love that loves despite, or even because of the tangles.

My dread locks are not what I expected.  Some days I wonder, "What have I done?!" but most days I think, "This is the best decision I've ever made".  They are a challenge to clean (yes I clean my dreads regularly!).  They do not allow my husband to give me a scalp massage (oh I miss head rubs!).  They get stuck in tree branches and in zippers and my children like to pull on them.  They are moody, they are frizzy, and they sometimes bring strange looks down people's noses in my direction.

I'm told dread locks take a while to mature.  When they're mature they require much less maintenance.  I imagine that's the way of most things.  My grief included.  Perhaps it too, will mature, and become more manageable.  Some days I can't believe that I go on living - without Steven in the world.  Without Grammy.  I'm always amazed that another day has gone by without the influence of that soul on this time.  I love that every time I catch my reflection in the mirror, my hair reminds me of my loved ones.  And happy coincidence: the conception of these dreads coincides with the conception of a third little Thiessen baby.

But most of all, these dread locks of mine are accurate.  This is a hair style that screams, "LAURA".  My life is a mess, my hair is a mess, but I have hope because God loves beautiful things, and can make beautiful things out of this crazy life, out of this crazy grief, out of this most crazy time.  I keep looking for beauty in the tangles.  I keep hoping.  And I accept the mess, the grief, the tangles, for now.  They are where I am.  They are okay - more than okay!  They are right.