CONVERSATIONS, CURLERS, AND CHRIST

 Conversations, Curlers, and Christ by Tammie Gitt LIVING 3368

When I was little, my sister and I would spend a lot of time at my Grammy’s during the summer. Our days were spent making up games in her large backyard, running for the ice cream truck or reading books on her patio.
If it got too hot, we’d take the books into the beauty shop attached to her house – the only air-conditioned spot available. We always stayed out of the way, but the shop provided ample opportunity for a budding people-watcher to hone her skills. Some ladies would sit under the hair dryer and fall asleep instantly. Others would page through a magazine. Sometimes, if there were two ladies at the dryers, they would chat loudly enough to be heard over the roar of the dryer.
But the most exciting spot for a people watcher was near the basins where Grammy washed the ladies’ hair and styled it by arranging it various sizes of curlers. There would be a constant stream of conversation between Grammy and the lady in the chair. Often, ladies would come early for their appointment and sit on a stool near the basins to participate in the conversation.
The topics they covered as Grammy delicately balanced curler, comb and scissors was wide and diverse. Even though I was under 10 years old at the time, I remember being impressed at the skill with which Grammy could weave her deeply-held, deeply-cherished belief in Christ into any conversation.
I also remember that I knew I didn’t have that skill — for hair or for witnessing (as Grammy called it). I was shy as a child, which stuns people who have only gotten to know me since college. I always claim it was the theater major that helped me overcome my tendency to backwardness (as some used to call it).
Somewhere along the way, I realized that Grammy wasn’t sharing her faith with random strangers as it appeared to a child’s eyes. These women came into her beauty shop each week. They talked about their families, the happenings around town, the places they’d been and the places they’d go. The women hated missing their appointments — perhaps more because they’d miss the conversation than that their hair would be a mess.
Into that conversation — into that relationship — she plainly spoke the truth of the gospel.
Each of us have relationships into which we can speak the truth of the gospel as a natural outgrowth of our conversations. Who in your circle of friends and acquaintances needs to hear your Jesus story?

Tammie's great blog and read more thoughts on IMMEASURABLY MORE as disciples of Christ.-Steve