Red is a Legacy
Because the love of her life, her husband, was a redhead, my little Grandma prayed for redheaded children. She didn’t get any.
She prayed for redheaded grandchildren. She didn’t get any.
She tripled her efforts and prayed without ceasing for redheaded great-grand-children. She got three great-grand-daughters with beautiful red hair; all slightly different shades, but truly glorious red hair. She was very happy about that, but she wasn’t satisfied. She didn’t have a redheaded boy yet. When she found out I was pregnant, she was ecstatic and immediately commenced praying for that redheaded boy.
During my pregnancy, we learned we were going to have a boy and joked with Gram about whether or not he would be red-haired, but never really thought seriously about it. I had been surprised years earlier, at the arrival of a redheaded girl, since my husband and I both have dark brown hair. Finally able to hold my baby boy in my arms, we leaned close and whispered, “Is that red hair?”
I called my grandma and told her it was a boy. With red hair. “Oh praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!” she said with tears in her voice.
I thought it was cute. I thought it was eccentric. I had never really cared about the color of my children’s hair.
But since then, I have become rather attached to that red hair. My grandma prayed that little boy into red hair. I’m pretty sure. But that little guy got sick. Leukemia caused him to lose all that hair.
I had a prayer-warrior for a grandmother, and although she was old enough to not be able to help much, she spent a lot of time at home, praying for her little redheaded great-grandson to beat the cancer. When Andrew lost his red-hair due to chemo, I found myself way more attached to it than I had known. I choked back sobs as we shaved it off because it was falling out so quickly and getting into the four-year-old’s mouth and eyes.
Andrew was cute bald, he really was, and he stayed that way for over a year. Finally, after many prayers from a lot of people Andrew began to pull through and to move into phases of treatment that allowed hair to grow. As the hair crept back in, it was an ugly yellow. Sickly looking, bent and scraggly. I quietly mourned the loss of that beautiful red-hair.
But Gram wasn’t done praying.
Gradually Andrew’s health returned and his hair turned back into the rich red color and came back in as full as it had been before.
Every time I look at thirteen-year-old Andrew’s thick red-hair, already scattered with a few white strands, I recall how blessed we are. My grandma passed away shortly after she turned 100, but she left me a legacy.
A legacy of love for red hair. A legacy of complete trust in her Heavenly Father and a strong enough will to talk to Him about everything, big things and little things, and wait for Him to grant you what you need.
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