The Beard

November 1st, 2016 by Familywriter

20161101_094200So I have a confession I am not a trendy person. I would rather wearing hiking boots with gaiters, shorts, and a wicking T-shirt covered in dirt after a long hiking trip than pretty much anything else.
Last October I started growing my beard out because in grief I didn’t care. I never had more than a goatee. Then came November and a little boy half way across the world entered my life. I kept the beard going just to see what would happen.

Then something did happen. I was starting to trim my beard somewhere toward the end of January and it hit me. My beard had become a call to prayer and the record of anxious waiting. Each time I look in the mirror my beard calls me to pray for Jude. Each amount it grows shows how many days have passed and helps me lean into the promise of what is to come. I cannot wait till my son is home!

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