I sit in the rolling chair at Sadie’s nail station and get myself comfortable. I always look forward to this bi-monthly treat! Sadie comes out from the break room and sits down, throws out a “hi” and we exchange pleasantries- about how it’s been seven weeks since I last saw her, and since that was just before Valentine's Day, I ask if she did anything special. She doesn’t answer me, and then I realize she’s got one side of her earphones in and she might be listening to something; unfortunately, this is the usual routine, so I just let her do her work. Why do I hope this will change?
Several minutes pass. I ask, “Do you think of yourself as an artist?“ No response. I do think Sadie is an artist because she makes my hands look pretty and my nails neat, fresh, and colorful. My hands have always been a part of my body that I don’t like. Maybe this is why I used to walk with my hands balled in a fist- hiding my fingers & nails, trying to make them invisible. I’ve had people through the years comment on my “old-lady hands“; even when I was 18 years old, one of the managers at a restaurant I was working at said it. I have my grandmother‘s hands, and I have my great-aunt’s hands. Both were Amy. Sometimes I think it’s a coincidence, and sometimes not.
I’ve been going to Sadie for 9 years. It began with a gift certificate for my birthday, then became routine as my nails started breaking and I needed stronger nails to get my Invisalign retainers out every time I ate. That's my excuse. Depending on how full Sadie's day is, the conversation is engaging; sometimes, like today, I feel she’s extremely focused on my hands (or is it her phone?) so she's quiet and seems distant. Sometimes I’m there for a quick half an hour, today she takes her time and seems to really “create”, and she gave me 45 minutes.
We all want to be seen & heard; to make friends, to have lengthy conversations and get to know each other; to love well, care deeply, and be known. Today, with this “Sadie encounter”, I‘m not feeling seen or heard AND I never feel known by her; I feel like I don’t exist or mean much to this person I’ve been going to for 9 years, other than someone who gives her money (and leaves feeling a bit better about how her hands look).
My God sees me and hears me (Psalm 139:1-2), He knew me before I was created in my mom’s womb (Jere. 1:5). He knows my thoughts before I speak, probably before I even think a thought. He knows the number of hairs on my head, the length of my life, and what my next move is in my day (Psalm 139:13-16). He knew before I walked into the nail salon how Sadie would react or not interact with me (Genesis 16:13).
God is with me as I leave the salon. He reminds me that each time I visit Sadie, she can’t fulfill the longings of my heart, or see me as He does, even if she can make my hands & nails look more beautiful. He tells me I'm beautiful, fancy nails or not.
(My husband tells me, "Nails are superficial. God’s love is eternal." Amen to that!)
- Amy Schaller
FINDINGbalance Outreach Coordinator. FREEdom Blog Editor. Wife, & Mom of an Adult Child. Retired Personal Trainer. Philanthropist. Novice Ukulele Player. Turkey Lover. Metal Stamper. Overcomer.
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