From an article originally posted August 29, 2012…

No amount of preparation can prepare a person for losing their hair suddenly one afternoon in their backyard. As Story Jane and I sat in the back yard pulling handful after handful of my hair out, I thought of Sarah, Plain and Tall giving the hair from a haircut to the fields for the birds to build nests. I would love to see nests of platinum blonde hair. Actually, I wouldn’t. I would rather keep my hair. Story Jane asked if she would be losing her hair, since we have matching white hair. I assured her she would not. That my medicine made mine come out.

It is weird, and kind of creepy to have your hair come out in handfuls without feeling. It is as though my hair has quit on me. On the bright side, my breast cancer lump is getting noticeably smaller. So I can stomach the good with the bad. Vanity aside, I want to live. That, for me, means losing my hair so I can be present for another snuggle, another spelling test, another lunch packed, another load of laundry love, another kiss, another prayer, another moment spent sharing over coffee with Jason, another night helping a kid through a virus, another bike ride, another morning worship, another chance to mend a skinned knee, another conversation with my daughter about young men, another giggle over a body function, another chance to cry together, another meal with friends on the back porch, another moment praising my Savior, another moment shared with my community, another camping trip... This cure and loss of hair is worth it for another tomorrow. The cure is tough, but it’s worth it for my tomorrows, and I trust that Jesus knows exactly how many more of those I have. He knows exactly every hair that’s falling from my head; He can be trusted with my tomorrows.

I still don’t know how you will see me next. Sporting a hat, a wig, or a scarf. But that reality will soon find me. Pray it finds me in perfect peace with the One who is walking this road with me.