The Hairy Truth

Years ago, there was a silly commercial on TV with the line: "Does she, or doesn't she? Only her hairdresser knows."  The spot was promoting a certain brand of color. Women of a certain age, like myself, will often use certain hair treatments with a certain regularity. In much the same vein, Christians in certain situations will avail themselves of going to confession and receiving the Sacrament of Reconciliation. So, one might ask, why put off what makes us look and feel so good? I wonder about that myself...

I have a confession about Confession. I need to go. And I should go. But sometimes I put it off when I otherwise know better.

Here's another confession: I go to the salon to cover my gray. It's a little ritual I do a few times a year. I don't like the cost of the hair makeover, so, by the time I finally make the appointment, I really, really, need to go.

On the confession front, even though I know what's good for me, I often still cajole myself there. Of course, who likes facing up to their vices and sins? So I put it off. But that is not recommended, especially when I start noticing my faltering interior attitude as it leaches out through my weakening defenses—like my muttering of cuss words under my breath when I get cranky. The quality and color of my language is usually the first obvious sign that I'm overdue for an appointment with a confessor.

It's kind of like my hair color...

Read the rest at my weekly column at Patheos.


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