The Hair Cut

“I can't go to church like this,” I thought in desperation as I surveyed the mess I'd just paid for at the beauty salon. “And I certainly can't sit on the stand with my back to everybody, so they can see how horrible I look!”

I felt like crying, like hiding in my closet, like running away right that minute and not coming back until my hair grew out.

The problem was, the coming Sunday was our Primary Program, where all the children age three through twelve sat on the stand and sang songs and told about the things they had learned that year. I was the second councilor, and in charge of the program.

My job, at this point, was to sit on a small chair next to the podium with my back to the audience, so I could direct the program and prompt children who needed help with their parts. In preparation, I went to a beauty shop to get my hair cut and styled. Why no one could ever understand my instructions and cut my hair right, I didn't know, but when I walked out of the salon the back of my head looked like a boy, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to fix it.

“I can't do this,” I cried as I tried my hardest to wrap my hair around a curling iron, thinking I could at least go curly. It wasn't any use. The cut was so short I couldn't get it around the iron even once.

“I can't do this,” I whined as I tried on every outfit I owned, hoping to find something that looked so spectacular it drew attention away from my hair. Of course, that wouldn't help, since sitting on the little chair meant no one would see any part of me below my shoulders.

“I can't do this,” I plead, as I knelt by my bed Saturday night and asked Heavenly Father to help the program go well, and to make me forget about my hair.

A memory came into my mind as I knelt there, of dad telling me about one of his cousins.

“I always liked her,” he told me one day. I'd moved into this particular cousin's ward, but had noticed that although her husband came to church every Sunday, she didn't seem to be particularly active. “She was one of the nicest cousins I had, and we had fun together when we were teenagers.”

“She's struggled with her weight, though, as she's grown older, and it's been really hard on her, I guess. She seems to go up and down, and when she feels overweight, she goes into hiding. Sometimes a year or more will go by without her even leaving the house.”

I'd felt bad for dad's cousin when I learned about her. I had a chance to visit her in her house, and personally, I didn't think she looked bad at all, but in all the time we lived in her ward, I never saw her at church. It was sad to think of all the blessings she had missed out on during that time.

Mom used to say, “Gale, your friends are going to be too busy worrying about themselves to even notice what you're wearing or how you look,” when I was an insecure teenager. Perhaps no one would really care how ugly my hair looked on Sunday. Or at least, if they did, they wouldn't remember and think about it afterwords.

“Buck up, Gale,” I told myself sternly. “You're not going to church so other people can see you. You're going to worship the Savior, and help the children worship Him. You can do this!”

And I did.

The Cabin,continued

Chapter 2

It was early when mom woke up.  She was snugly warm and toasty, sleeping next to dad in the warm sleeping bag, but her nose was freezing, and she could see her breath when she blew it out, even in the tent.

            She struggled to turn over in the tight space, and Dad whispered, “Are you awake, honey?”

“Mmmmm,” she mumbled.  “Kind of.   How did you sleep?”

“Great, but  I’m ready to get up now!  I didn’t want to wake you before, but now that you’re awake, how about going for a walk with me.  You’ve got to see the property!”

“What about the kids?” Mom whispered.  “They’ll sleep for a long time, still.  It was late when we finally got them down last night.”

“The folks are up,” Dad answered.  “They won’t mind keeping an eye on them while we’re gone.  It will only take a minute to walk down to the place.”

“Aren’t we going to drive?”  Eleanor was surprised.

“There’s no reason to,” he said.  “It’s not far, and if we start the truck we might wake up the kids.”

They were careful not to make any noise as they got out of their sleeping bags and dressed.  As they crawled out of the tent, mom saw that Grandpa Russell had already started a fire, and Grandma was sitting in a chair by it, reading.

“You’re up early,”  Dad greeted her. 

“It’s a glorious morning!”  Grandma replied. “ I couldn’t stay in bed.”

“Do you mind if we take a walk down the road so I can show Eleanor the place?”  he asked.  “The kids are in bed, and will probably stay asleep for a while.”

“That will be fine,” Grandma answered.  “They are  probably exhausted, but if they wake up, I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“Thanks,” Dad said as he grabbed Mom’s hand and pulled her past the tents and headed towards the road.

“I wish you could have seen the place last night, but there wouldn’t have been much point, it was so dark.”

“It’s OK, honey.  We tried as hard as we could, but there really wasn’t any way to get here before dark.  I’m surprised we were able to get off as soon as we did.”

“I know.  It wasn’t too bad setting up camp after dark, though.  Except for being cold.”

Mom shook her head, but didn’t say anything.  Last night had been a nightmare as far as she was concerned.  It had been dark and cold, and the kids had wanted to get out of the truck and play, but she had made them stay in the cab until the tents were set up and a fire was started.  Even then with the light from lanterns and a roaring bon fire, it had been hard to watch the little ones and keep them from wondering off towards the creek which was rushing by only a few feet away from camp. 

“It sure is cold,” was all she said.  “I’m surprised.  It was so warm at home.”

“It’s still early,”  Dad reminded her.  “It will probably be very pleasant by this afternoon.  Remember it’s only April, even if it does feel like summer back in the valley.”

The weather is funny in Arizona.  There may be four seasons on the calendar, but there are only two in the desert, summer and winter.  It wasn’t unheard of to be 80 degrees in January, though it usually stayed in the 70’s through March.  Once you left the desert and climbed into the mountains, though, it was a different story.  And this morning, it was cold!

“I thought you said our place was by the creek?”  Mom asked in surprise as they walked north along the road  They were climbing a small hill and the creek had disappeared, winding it’s way off to the east.

“It is,” Dad assured her.  “The creek turns and follows the road just below here.  You just can’t see it all the time.”

They crested out on the top of the hill and Mom stopped to look at an old, gnarled alligator juniper by the side of the road.  “What a funny looking tree,”  she pointed out to dad.   “It almost looks a like a person’s face, doesn’t it?”

Dad laughed and grabbed her hand as they began walking again.  “You’re going to love it up here, Eleanor!  We are going to have such great times!  Now, look over there between the trees.  What do you see?”

“It’s the creek!”  she exclaimed.  “How pretty it is!”

It was, too.  Even though the sycamore and black walnut trees were bare of leaves, it was a beautiful scene.  The little winding road straightened out here for a spell and ran parallel to the creek.  It was rushing merrily, gurgling over big and small rocks, sounding like happy laughter as it gushed its way under a barbed wire fence stretched across the creek between two big white sycamore trees.  Old leaves lay on the ground next to large white rocks and black earth.  Cedar and juniper trees with blue green  needles grew next to huge old oak trees covered with dead looking vines that in summer would become wild grapes. 

Mom and Dad walked west  around a corner in the road and saw before them a meadow, nestled at the base of a large hill.  The road climbed the hill, which was really the west end of a mountain.  It was covered with  ponderosa pines, tall and stately, stretching up into the early morning sun.  The road, and hillside and meadow where still shadowed from the mountain rising on the east.

“This is it,” Dad proclaimed proudly.  “The property starts down there by  the creek, and includes the meadow, hillside, and the top part of the hill on the west side of the road.  Come see.”