Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Ice Cream and Haircuts (but not at the same time)

My Grandma hated ice cream. Actually, that’s not true, she loved ice cream. She just hated making ice cream. She told me that when she was a little girl in the early part of the 20th century, one of her jobs in the summer was to sit on the porch and churn ice cream for hours at a time. She had eight brothers and sisters, so I secretly doubt she was left to that job alone, but to her, each undertaking seemed to last an eternity. She vowed, even then, that when she was old enough and could afford to buy “store bought” ice cream, she was going to do it. I never remember a time going to her house that there wasn’t a carton of Blue Bunny or Blue Bell in the freezer. When times were tougher financially, she’d buy the knock-off brands, but she didn’t care – she hadn’t had to make it! Furthermore, she didn’t understand the fascination of some with making their own ice cream. After all, as far as she was concerned, wasn't it God himself who created Ben and Jerry? He put them on earth for a reason, and she wasn't going to be the one to deprive them of fulfilling their calling! I distinctly remember one summer afternoon, my aunt trying to convince Grandma to come outside and join the fun as the electric ice cream maker was running. The look Grandma gave her melted the rock salt, so my uncle ended up at the store buying Dreyers anyway.

In the first six years of our marriage, I frequently thought about Grandma as I cut Darin’s hair. Let’s be honest, I’m not a beautician. There’s a reason they issue licenses for that job. I can count on one hand the number of “store bought” haircuts he had during that time, but we cut his hair at home to save money. I can’t tell you how often I wept over the results of my handiwork. But, he, in gracious love, always looked at me and said, “It looks fine.” Translate that, “I’m as cheap as you are, so I’ll live with it like this for a couple weeks until it grows back.” Thankfully, he could win an Olympic Gold Medal for the rate at which his hair grows. Finally, we are now able to afford “store bought” haircuts, and I no longer worry that the beautician police will invade our home on Saturday mornings and ticket me for operating without a license!

"Store bought" ice cream and "store bought" haircuts. God does give good things, doesn't he?!

I will tell of the kindnesses of the LORD, the deeds for which he is to be praised, according to all the LORD has done for us—yes, the many good things he has done... Isaiah 63:7

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