Step Sing is over – it ended this past weekend.
And I danced.
But that’s not the important part…
I danced with my scar showing, open to be viewed, judged, acknowledged, questioned.
And y’all…I was so scared.
We were farmers and everyone was wearing their hair curled with braids or in pigtails. I wanted to wear pigtails so badly…but I knew the scar from brain surgery a few years ago would show. The hair has grown in so much, but there will always be a line of skin – hair will not grow there.
99.9% of the time that doesn’t bother me in the slightest…but for three nights, for three shows, I wanted to just be normal. I didn’t want to worry about what I “can’t” do. I wanted pigtails.
On the last night, after our final performance, I came back to my room and wrote these words:
Tonight was the last night of Step Sing 2013. We were farmers and we did such a great job! We left everything on the stage tonight and I’m so proud of my sisters.
But years from now I think I’ll remember this: I wore pigtails.
In front of 2,600 people and a livestream around the world, I parted my hair straight down the middle and smiled with JOY the whole time! I showed my scar.
I had been so sad Friday night because I wanted to wear pigtails so much, but the scar isn’t pretty. I didn’t want to look different. For three nights, I really just wanted to be able to look normal like everyone else. But my Story is different and I’m learning that we get to choose whether the scars show a wound or God’s healing. I don’t want to put God’s glory in a box and limit Him.
We’ve been saying this show is to bring God glory. Tonight I felt like I did. I’m so proud and I can’t stop smiling. Thank you Lord for my friend who did my hair…who listened, cared, encouraged, and told me I looked beautiful with the scar showing.
I think this is joy.
I had been letting fear choose my hairstyle…but it was so much more than that. I wasn’t hiding my scar because, quite frankly, no one cared whether I wore my hair curled or in pigtails. But I knew, inside, that I was curling my hair to avoid the weird looks and to prevent anyone from thinking I don’t look good.
Because apparently, somewhere along the way I’ve come to think the scar on the back of my head isn’t pretty. In this culture, scars aren’t beautiful things. They’re signs that something bad has happened, something painful and ugly.
But I wasn’t remembering this truth: scars are signs of survival – and they are beautiful.
I cared more about what I looked like in pictures and what the audience saw as I danced on stage, than pleasing my Healer of a Father – the One I was dancing for in the first place.
So I texted a friend and she parted my hair, put some ties and bobby pins in, and I walked downstairs to stand among 65 friends, sisters, with my scar showing.
And you know, no one said a word. Because they don’t care and didn’t even notice – in the best way possible. I’m me whether they see a patch of missing hair or not.
I went on that stage and I danced and smiled big the whole time – because that night, it was all for Him. Not just the moves, not just the farmer costume, but the slice of pale skin on the back of my head as I spent 6 minutes twisting and singing and laughing to the music.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more beautiful.