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For almost twenty-five years, I have regularly visited a small hair salon in an outlying part of a housing estate. I always look forward to going there. Besides getting a makeover, it is also a moment of rest for me, and on top of that, my hairdresser is a gentle, kind, and selfless woman. A biblical Tabitha (as I have named her in my mind). More than once, she has mentioned where she goes to serve her customers, especially when it becomes difficult for them to travel due to age or illness. In her work, she often has to listen to a lot, which can be exhausting, but many surely feel relieved to share their troubles with a good person.
Since my conversion, which dates back to the time I started visiting this salon, I often thought about wanting to give this woman the chance to hear the good news and know Christ, our Lord. I occasionally thought of her in prayer, and because our parish was holding Alpha courses (a practical introduction to Christianity) at that time, I repeatedly invited her to the program, explained, and brought brochures for Alpha and other programs. Then there came the lending of books, as my hairdresser was an avid reader. I also left her magazines and various articles on the table where I paid when I left. This went on for years... She never came to Alpha, but always accepted the printed materials and books with thanks, read them, and returned them to me with the same grace. Once, there were about five customers in that small space of the salon, and the conversation turned to healing practices. The discussion was lively and, unfortunately, filled with various misleading advice and personal experiences. I curled in on myself, pretended to doze off, and fervently prayed for it to stop and, above all, that no one would ask me anything. But then came the request for me to say something on the topic as well. I didn’t have much courage, so I quietly remarked that I wouldn’t choose anything like that for myself and wouldn’t recommend such practices to anyone. Immediately, other arguments were raised, and the conversation continued. Again, I thought of my hairdresser and felt that all this unfortunate discussion might negatively influence her. So, I took the time to search for various articles and links on the topic and left all that gathered material on the table during my next visit. As always, she told me that she was very grateful, had read everything, and was returning it all in order.
Another few years went by. Whenever we met, we had nice conversations. Her stories often reflected a good attitude toward others and general kindness. My zeal to proclaim Christ to this woman hadn't waned, but it seemed to have calmed down significantly. I hardly occupied my thoughts with what I could think of for her; instead, I was more hopeful that God surely sees her good heart, graciously looks upon her, and accompanies her.
About a year ago, when I visited the familiar place again, I found her very upset. She immediately began recounting a very sad and incomprehensible matter for her. The troubles involved a young family – her son and daughter-in-law. A misunderstanding arose concerning the request for baptism for their one-year-old child. The initiative originally came from the parents of the young mother, practicing Catholics. However, the local priest strictly refused the request for baptism when he learned that the couple had not married in the church. This apparently caused great bitterness and pain throughout the extended family, especially since the family had been actively helping in the parish for many years. The young couple tried again to contact the priest in their current place of residence, but once again faced rejection. The priest wanted to see them in church at services and for confession before any discussion of the possibility of baptism could even begin. This second refusal created tension within the young family. The child's father, who had no prior personal experience with faith and the church, was shaken by the unfriendliness, closed-mindedness, and harshness in dealing. In the end, an argument broke out between the couple. At this point, my hairdresser recounted the whole story to me. Since I was dealing with my own matters at that time, I wasn't inclined to offer any help or get involved in a conflict situation about which I had only partial and second-hand information. However, it bothered me that they had gone through such a bad experience, which surely deeply affected the entire family. I tried to ask at a parish I knew where they had a very well-organized preparation for the baptism of children for non-practicing parents. Consequently, it happened that the preparation for the baptism was opened to this young couple as well, and they, as I learned, experienced that time very beautifully. During the six-month preparation, they could repeatedly meet with a priest, the local community, and young couples, parishioners who helped with the preparation for baptism. When I later visited the salon, my hairdresser was radiant and to the astonishment of the other present customers, began telling how beautiful moments they had experienced during the baptism of her grandchild in the church and then at the family celebration. She concluded her account with the words: “And now I tell everyone who comes here: how beautiful moments we experienced during my grandchild's baptism!”
One May evening, I visited the salon again. I closed my eyes and rested. We were silent. In the middle of working (with a wet and half-cut hair), Ms. T. put down her tools, sat down, and turned to me with a short and direct question: “Does hell exist?” Completely surprised, I answered after a moment. More questions flooded in like water, and many were about reconciliation and forgiveness. I thought I would tell her the parable of the prodigal son so we could have good material for further conversation. From all appearances, I can suspect that Ms. T. had heard this parable for the first time. When I reached the part where Scripture speaks of the meeting of the returning son with the Father (Luke 15:18...), we both burst into tears simultaneously. That word about God's kindness, goodness, patience, mercy, waiting, forgiveness, in short, about the depth of God's love, struck us powerfully. We said our heartfelt goodbyes, and my hairdresser noted that it was good that I always came in the evening, and so it might be that we would again be alone next time to continue the conversation. That evening, I came home quite late, blessed with comfort in the form of inner joy.
I wrote this small testimony as a thank you to our heavenly Father, who is faithful and knows every hair that falls from our heads :).
