God's Glory in a Laundry Basket

I walked down the basement steps into the salon for “the works” ... the works on my hair, that is. I know my hairdresser well. She’s more than a hairdresser, she’s a friend. Keeping my appointment is always a delight, not only for the vain glory of the enhancement to my appearance but even more so for the meaningful and at times, therapeutic chat my hairdresser and I typically have while she cuts and colors my hair. I didn’t expect what I got today, however.  A lesson on glory.  God’s glory.  What it is.  What it looks like.  Why we often miss it.  I got to my appointment on time and sat gazing at all of the perfect, airbrushed people in the myriad of magazines on the table in the waiting area while I listened to my hairdresser friend scurrying around upstairs. She and her family live upstairs.  It’s not uncommon to wait for her to come down, running a few minutes behind schedule. I’m good with that. It affords me the chance to put the brakes on my fast-paced and hectic lifestyle and rest a spell.

Soon, in classic style, my hairdresser friend hustled down the stairs and upon greeting me announced, “Did you hear we have a newborn?” I froze for a split second and replied, “An animal, right?”  She assured me it was not a furry friend but indeed a new born baby. I was stunned. I wasn’t the only one, she said.  She had commented to me several times over the years about her little family being complete even though she and her husband adore babies.  Additions to their family of four, or not made absolutely no difference to me personally but this was such a shock.  Something had changed, this was drastically different.  She began mixing my hair color as the story unfolded from her heart and off of her lips.  I listened intently and fought back my emotions.  We hardly noticed the gentle interruption of her husband as he snuck down the stairs, gingerly carrying a laundry basket (aka emergency bassinet) cradling the most precious little 13 day old cherub I had seen in a long time.  Such a perfect little nose.  Adorably long little piggies (aka toes) and the sweetest itty-bitty cry to match her minuscule stature.  5 lb. 13 oz. little Miss Kayla. Born to a mommy and daddy that were whisked off to incarceration moments after her birth.  Enter the story ... my hairdresser friend and her family.  Sparing the details, this family of four embraced baby Kayla in their home, and their hearts like her arrival in their lives was the plan from the beginning, even though they were unaware of her existence less than one week before. 

A glimpse of God’s glory. A little 5 lb. bundle of His creativity and potential lying in a laundry basket in a home-based hair salon.  I knew I was beholding His glory as it was meant to be; caring for the needs of one who can never ever really give anything in return.

All too often, and tragically, we put God’s glory on a shelf in neat little boxes marked “incredible sunset” or “awesome corporate worship” or “weekend-retreat-mountain-top experience.”  Not incorrect, just incomplete.  Somehow in our short-sightedness, we define His glory by something magnificent in our eyes.  His glory is indeed magnificent but His eyes see things very differently than ours.

His glory is in the bedroom of a handicapped woman who is treated with patience and dignity by a friend who answers her call in the middle of the night to change the bed sheets so that she can return to a restful sleep.  His glory is in the hug between two ­­­people who only share one thing in common; a loved one hanging in the balances in a bed in ICU. His glory is in the hearty laughter of a once orphaned child who has been loved and prayed for by strangers and then adopted into their family and is no longer fatherless ... or motherless ... or sibling-less.  His glory is in the full stomach of a lonely teenager invited to a meal by one who notices the young man's stomach and soul hunger so she dishes up a warm meal and some genuine love to feed him.  His glory is in the hopeful heart of a woman who receives money from a stranger on an airplane who offered to help calm her baby and listen to the hurting woman’s heartbreaking story. His glory is in the eyes of an old man who is being cared for by one who is no longer recognized as a family member and who may never be thanked for their tireless care and faithful love. His glory is in the garage where boxes are being packed by strangers for a single mom in a desperate have-to-move-right-NOW kind of situation.  His glory is at the lunch table with a kid who is kind to the girl typically bullied and teased for reasons she will never really know.  And on and on we could recount glimpses of God's glory in every day life.

We can miss His glory.  We miss it waiting for the big spiritual high or the amazing moment in a beautiful setting.  His glory is there but it’s much more common in the mundane of life when one person does something to offer another person help and oft times, hope.  God lets us carry His glory and share His glory and see His glory ... if we will but notice.

Have you seen His glory on the face of a precious little abandoned 13 day old baby girl lying in a laundry basket lately?  I have and it was, well, absolutely glorious.