Sticky Situations

person raising both hands
Photo by Raíssa Dias on

Did you ever remove unwanted hair by waxing?  I’ve seen it done and done it for others yet had not experienced it myself…until recently.  What was I thinking?!  The type of wax I had experience with were adhesive.  If necessary, you trim the wax strip to the size you desire and rub it between the palms of your hands to warm it.  When it’s warmed, you peel the pieces apart, stick them to your problem area and stroke in the direction of the hair growth.  After an ample amount of time, you pull the skin taut with one hand while ripping the wax strip off in the opposite direction of the hair growth with the other, and viola! Hair gone.  Then you massage the skin area a little longer and apply the concoction included to remove any leftover adhesive.

Since my girls had been threatening to wax their armpits, I thought I’d be the guinea pig and let them know how it went.  I was fresh out of the shower, towel-dried, no sweat.  Perfect time.  I smiled while I prepared the wax strips, giddy with the thought of not having to shave for what would be the minimum of a month–hopefully longer.  I stood in front of my dresser mirror and used it to guide me to the 5 o’clock shadow in my armpit.  That’s when the feeling of being pleased with myself totally backfired into panic.  Mind you, I was fresh out of the shower, butt-naked, when I realized that I need two, count them, two hands–one to draw the skin taut, one to rip off the strip.  I really needed that second hand which was currently stretched above my head, the hand attached to the arm with a wax strip adhered to the pit.  No way was that hand capable of doing anything!  I debated putting on undies and a halter and asking one of my girls to help.  

Here’s where I confess: I was too proud to ask for help.  I was already one wax strip deep  so I stuck on the other, rubbed my skin for a reasonable amount of time in the direction of the hair growth, and hoped for the best.  Preparing for the worst, I sucked in a breath and ripped off the first strip.  Owee!  Wow, God bless people who do this on a regular basis.  I could not imagine what it must feel like to do this on, ahem, more “sensitive” areas.  I ripped off the second strip, briefly massaged my armpits, applied the non-stick concoction and slathered myself down with witch hazel.  What a disappointment.  I did grab a few hair follicles but it wasn’t near worth the effort.  Though sore that evening, I was not sore the next day.  I attribute that to the witch hazel…and God’s infinite mercy extended to my proud self. 

This brings back a memory.  I was busy in the kitchen.  I don’t know why, but I was wrestling with a step stool with one hand.  Laura is all of 8 years old, maybe, and she’s watching me.  I’m getting totally fussed up.  I can’t remember if I began complaining out loud, which I still catch myself doing from time to time, or if she was just reading me.  I can’t remember if she did assist me or I finally got it on my own.  Here’s what I remember: “Well you coulda just asked for help!” she said in rebuke.  Yeah, I coulda, but I didn’t.

I’m going to rewind to years before that.  Someone used in words of knowledge and prophecy said, “I look at you and I see a pot on a stove with a hand on the handle.  Steam is coming out of the pot.  I asked the LORD, ‘What does this mean?’  He said, ‘Christi lets Me move her where I will but then she tries to run on her own steam’.”

Ouch!  That hurt worse than waxing.

Few things are as sticky as relational discord.  My husband did some digging recently and discovered what he suspected: We have been being taken advantage of financially by a fellow believer and a relative yet to boot.  For how long and to what extent we don’t know.  What’s happened isn’t criminal, but it isn’t right, either.  It’s inconceivable to us that he doesn’t realize what he has done.  But, what if he doesn’t?  What if this is how he was taught?  Or what if this has become such a common practice to him that his conscious is seared and he’s immune to it?

“Why doesn’t God just change him?!” Bob lamented.

“You know God doesn’t do that,” I said.  “He will not impose His will on people.  They have to want to change.”

There are some works only God can do.  And He will only do them when we go to Him with honesty (“I’ve failed You”) and humility (“I want to change but I can’t do this on my own”).  We can’t fix ourselves let alone someone else in our own strength and wisdom.  To attempt to do so only leads to  heartache coupled with wounds, unforgiveness, misunderstanding, anger, et cetera–I know.  It’s difficult to relinquish control to God.  But, seriously, what are we controlling anyway?  Our attitude, that’s all.  No matter how much it hurts, no matter how badly we’re taken advantage of, no matter how many complaints we voice or how many tears we shed, the only real power to change comes from letting God move us where He will and then running on His steam.

Join me today in taking some time to get honest before the King of Kings.  He’s been here all along.  Will we keep Him waiting?  Or will we humble ourselves and ask for help?


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My husband and I married over 20 years ago on a chilly, rainy, spring day. One year later caught me in a whirlwind as I was celebrating my first wedding anniversary, my first Mother's Day, and my first publication as a freelance writer. The birth of our third child followed a couple months after we celebrated our twins' 3rd birthday. Though a pen has been one of my constant companions, I have not pursued writing professionally due to the monumental task of homemaking and the raising of children. A shout out to my Robert who has been our sole provider while I have had the pleasure and privilege of remaining home with our children to homeschool them. Now, thanks to him, I have the liberty to once again pursue my passion to write and encourage others in written word as we journey with God through life experiences.

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