Now, some of you are looking at those beautiful blue eyes the exact color of the ocean, and some of you are looking at his awful hair, wondering why I do not make him chop it all off. I would judge me too. I hate that hair.
However, being the way that I am, and knowing full well that I do not owe the internet an explanation, I still feel the need to fill ya'll in. At first, I let him grow out that mop because he asked respectfully to grow it out during the summer. Then, I let him keep it for a while longer because he again asked respectfully and I'm trying to encourage this behavior.
I longed for the days when my firstborn had short cute spiky hair... when I didn't want to constantly take a razor to his head, when his adorable freckles were out on display for all the world to see. You could enjoy his cute little cheeks and his beautiful skin so much better. He didn't look like a punk teenager one bit, as you can plainly see!
Fast forward to a conversation I had with him a little while ago. He told me how enjoyable it's been this last couple of years since he's had longer hair, because nobody asks, "what's in your ear?" or the classic, "What? Are you death? Can you see me?" And how he really likes that nobody feels the need to yell when they are talking to him, or stare at his ears.
That's when I realized that God had already answered a prayer I prayed around 9 years ago. That's when I begged Him to give my son a chance to live his teen years without being referred to by his classmates as, "Spencer, you know, that deaf boy?"
God is soooooooo good. Now, don't you just love that 'do?
He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end