Door Number 3

I have decided it's time to go through Door Number 3, the door less opened, when it comes to life's choices.

Typically, I go through Door Number 1 or Door Number 2 when I get disappointed or mistreated. But, I have been discovering that there is a third door, and, if I choose to go through it, I won’t be sorry.

This story might not make sense to you unless you are a 50-something woman who is trying to look brunette most of the time, but whose gray roots are very stubborn. Mother’s Day was coming up, and I was looking forward to my hair appointment with my long-time stylist after I got off of work that Thursday. About 30 minutes before my appointment, I looked at my cell phone to see that I had a text from her. "Uh-oh, that can’t be good," I thought.

I checked the text and she said she was running late. Could she contact me when she was ready for me to come? No problem, I texted back, as I was thinking, “Whew, good thing she didn’t cancel on me! With Mother’s Day coming up, I really need a cut and color.”

I spoke too soon. About 30 minutes later she texted that she was going to have to cancel my appointment, her last of the day, because people had been running late all afternoon, and someone she thought had cancelled had shown up. On top of that, she had to go to a nearby town for a graduation that evening. Could she reschedule with me on Monday?

Monday! That was a full four days away! Are you kidding? Didn’t she know how horrible my roots looked, not to mention my bangs that were already too long and wouldn’t be cajoled into going anywhere except in my eyes? How could she do this to me -- a loyal customer for more than 20 years?

I purposely didn’t text her back for at least 15 minutes. I knew I had to simmer down. Finally, I sent a cryptic message, “What time?” It wasn’t just this month's postponement that was getting to me. This seemed to be happening with more and more regularity in the last year, and I was feeling mistreated. I really wanted to give her a piece of my mind.

But I knew that’s not what a Christ-follower does – or is it? Sometimes I am confused about that. Is it really wrong to withhold correction, even if you are angry, when it could benefit the person in the long run? Deep down, though, I knew that was a lie. If I vented it would be for my flesh’s benefit alone and not to help her out.

To simply let it go, though, to pretend as though everything was just fine, seemed to be not only disingenuous but downright wimpy. If I just go along with another’s ill treatment of me, am I not letting myself be a victim and reinforcing the other person's behavior? More importantly, what do I do with the internal anger that comes from being mistreated?

Those are the two options I normally think of in these types of situations. Door Number 1 is to let the flesh vent itself with some harsh words. Let’s let ‘em have it. They had it coming! They’d better not treat me that way! Door Number 2 is to accept the treatment without so much as a peep. Be a martyr. Take it on the chin. Let them get away with murder.

Could there be another option?

Door Number 3 is when we refuse to lash out in anger or hurt, but instead of being a doormat, we turn our face to God and ask Him to work things out for our good and blessing, as well as everyone who is involved. We don’t stick up for ourselves, because we trust that someone else is doing that for us. We don’t have to ensure that we are going to be treated fairly, because we have entrusted ourselves into another’s hands. 

Suddenly the sting goes out of the entire situation as we allow His grace to bring us what we don’t deserve, and we no longer look at people as the source of our needs being met.

That is exactly what God was able to get through to me in the midst of my anger over my cancelled appointment. He showed me that He could take care of me, gray hair and all, if I trusted Him to do so. Could I put the whole mess into His hands and trust Him to work it out? It required that I believe in something i couldn't see, let go of my anger and my miffed feelings.

It was risky, but I decided to try it.

When I trusted God instead of taking things into my own hands, my anger at my stylist evaporated to almost nothing. I no longer felt like an abused victim. I could look at the situation more rationally and see her perspective. I was not sure how God was going to help me, but I knew He would not fail me.

God's miracles turn up in the most unlikely places -- like the hair aisle at Walmart. Shortly after the missed appointment, I came across a new product that was for gray roots. It was a wand that looked like a mascara brush and applied color to strands of hair, washing out with shampoo. There were no peroxides or messy color that stained my towels and got all over the bathtub. It wasn’t any harder than putting on my mascara in the morning, and was less than $5 a bottle. It worked perfectly for the short-term.

Mother's Day turned out wonderfully, long bangs and all. (They seemed to be less cantankerous that day). My attitude had come a long way -- and I hadn't ruined my relationship with my stylist, whom I consider a friend as well as a fellow believer. In fact, if God so led me, I would have the freedom to speak with her about the situation without any anger or frustration. 

It was good to discover anew, in this little episode of my life, how I could trust Him to take care of me in the little as well as the big messes I find myself in. After all, if He is going to count my hairs, He ought to know where to find something to put color on them.